In the Stillness(22)

Still staring at the point on that pin, I brought it down to my wrist.

I’ll just try it once. Just to see if it still feels good.

I rolled up the sleeve of my jacket.

“Nat? Nat, are you okay in there?” Tosha startled me with a knock on the door.

“Yeah, I just need a minute, K?”

“K.” She mumbled to someone that I’d be out in a minute and the fading clomp of the heels of her boots announced her exit, while I continued rolling up my sleeve.

I brought the pin down to the top of my forearm, by my elbow, and barely pressed the pin in; I just dragged it lightly a few inches down my arm. Goosebumps sprang from my head to my toes and I watched the red mark trail the pin. Adrenaline immediately kicked in, and the sense of a rush took over. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at the popcorn ceiling of the bathroom and started again. Pushing a little harder this time, I closed my eyes and breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth, until I reached my wrist.

I cried a little more, but it wasn’t from a place of pain; it was from the euphoric rush of release. I wanted to slap the bitch that inferred my boyfriend and his friends were lazy rapists. I wanted to talk to Ryker whenever I wanted to, and I wanted to kiss him until my lips fell off. I wanted his body on top of mine as we made love in my dorm room. But, I couldn’t do or have any of that. All I could control was that pin running up and down my forearm until it started to bleed and I was high.

I quickly washed and dried my arm before rolling down the denim sleeve. I kissed the yellow ribbon once before pinning it back on my jacket.

Please come home.

*

Before I know it, I have to get my shit together and go get Max and Ollie from preschool. Looking down at my legs, I cringe; it looks like I ran through pricker bushes.

Shit. What did I just do?

I dump the last of the peroxide over my legs and throw my shorts in the hamper. I pull on a long, flowing skirt, plaster on my best mommy-smile and drive to pick up my boys.

“Hi Natalie, the boys had a good day today.” Miss Jennifer, the preschool teacher, is always smiling. Always. Why anyone chooses to work with 4-year-olds day in and day out is beyond me. But believe me, I’m glad someone does.

“Great! Hi guys, did you have fun today?” As I squat down to receive double-hugs, I feel the skin on my thighs pull against scabs that are working to form over my skin.

“So, any word yet from the university?” There are lots of upper-level students whose kids go to preschool here; this question isn’t uncommon.

“There is,” I force a proud smile, “but I need to wait for it to be official.”

“Well,” she leans in and whispers, “congratulations in advance.”

A few minutes later, as I’m buckling the boys into their car seats, visions of more car seats send my heart racing. Eric and I have never talked about having more kids. Hell, we didn’t even talk about having the kids we have now, and three seconds after telling me it was okay for me to start taking Ph.D. classes again he wants to knock me up?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I reach for my cell phone and call Eric’s mom.

“Hey Grace, it’s Natalie,” I say when she answers. “Listen, I just picked the boys up from preschool, but something’s come up with a friend of mine. Can I drop them off at your house for, like, two hours or so?”

The ever bubbly Grace doesn’t hesitate in her reply. “Oh, of course, dear! In fact, why don’t you have them stay here through dinner, and come pick them up after? Eric told me the good news!”

“Isn’t it great? Thanks, Grace, I’ll be over there in a few.”

After dropping them off at their grandmother’s house, I stop at the gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes before calling Tosha and asking her to meet me at her apartment.





Chapter 11





“Shit, I forgot to buy a lighter—can I borrow yours?” I reach for Tosha’s lighter on the front steps of her apartment building.

“You smoke now?” She half-chuckles as she takes the lighter back and ignites her own cigarette.

I lift my eyebrows as I take a long drag. “Apparently only on days where my husband tells me he’s got a permanent job at UMass and wants to have more kids.” I look at Tosha, whose cigarette is suspended a millimeter in front of her lips.

“Can we . . . um . . . break that down a bit?” she asks when she finally composes herself.

I recap the “good news” to Tosha, who keeps a striking poker face.

“So,” she starts when I’m in tears again, “it’s a good or bad thing that he has a job, now?”

“Good,” I sigh. “It’s excellent. What’s not excellent is he wants to start talking about more kids. Not, hey Nat, thanks for putting your entire life on hold to raise our boys while I finished my dream, let’s work on yours now. No, he said I could still take classes, but we both f*cking know there’s no way I can travel the way I would have been able to six years ago.”

“Do you think he actually wants to start having more kids right now? Maybe he just got wrapped up in the excitement of being done with school . . .” Tosha hesitates to finish as she studies my face.

“You’re probably right. Seriously, we’ve never discussed having more kids. We never even discussed having children when we first got together. Christ, we never discussed a future at all.”