In the Stillness(71)

“Thanks again for dinner, Bill.” Extending my arms, he comes in for a hug.

“Anytime, Natalie. I mean that. Let’s not go another ten years, eh?” Bill kisses my cheek and gives my shoulder a firm pat before making eye contact with Ryker behind me.

“I’ll walk you to your car, Nat.” Ryker tugs my pinky finger once before heading around the side of the house.

Walking to my car, I suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. Closure seems to be introducing itself to my bleeding heart a little at a time.

“Thanks for having me over, Ryker. I’m glad I got a chance to talk to your dad.” I lean against my door.

“No problem, I know he’s really missed you and . . .you guys went through a lot together.” A flash of uneasiness passes through his eyes, and I wish I could grab his face and kiss him, telling him it’s really okay. But, the thing about guilt is, no one can take it away for you; you have to unpack it yourself. And, I probably shouldn’t kiss him.

Before I stare at his lips any longer, I decide to get in my car. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer to bring the boys to the farm. Maybe mid-August, right before school starts? That way I think we’ll be in more of a routine with Ollie.”

“Sounds good, Nat. Whenever you’re ready, you’ve got my number.” A smile and a hug later, Ryker strolls back up to his dad’s house with his hands in his pockets.





Chapter 35





“Man, you’ve had a hell of a few weeks, huh?” Tosha stretches across my gorgeous pre-Eric couch in my post-Eric apartment. Though, I guess we’ll never really be “post” each other, given the boys.

“Yeah, but . . . you know how they say things get worse before they get better?” I set wine glasses in front of us.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m kind of in the middle of that right now. All this purging with Ryker, and talking with his dad, and filing the papers for my divorce with Eric,” I pause for a sip of Syrah, “I almost feel like more of a mess than I did before.”

Tosha rests her hand on my leg. “That’s because you haven’t been cutting. And, Nat, I’m so f*cking proud of you for that.”

I haven’t cut in weeks. Not since the time I discussed with Dr. Greene. My reasons for not doing it vary each time the urge comes. Sometimes I’m worried Eric will turn and use it against me, other times I’m worried about the boys finding out somehow. And still, despite the endless amount of self-talk against my guilt, I sometimes feel like I’d be betraying Ryker. I’m fully aware that there needs to be a reason within me not to do it, a reason for me, but I haven’t gotten there yet. It’s like a crystal vase on the highest shelf you put off dusting for a year. It’s there. You’ll get to it. Just not now.

It drives me crazy to not cut. Sometimes I’ll be watching TV and find myself dragging my thumb nail across my wrist until it feels raw, or I’ll clench my fists so tight that little crescent-moons stay on my palm for an hour. I thought getting myself to stop cutting would be the hurdle; it turns out it’s getting myself not to want to.

“Dr. Greene thinks I should ask Ryker to come to a session of mine,” I blurt out.

Tosha spits some wine.

“Oh come on,” I tease, “watch the nice couch, would ya?”

“Sorry. What?”

“Yeah. She said she would have suggested it the last time I was a patient of hers, but Ryker was still on probation . . . then he disappeared. It was all just a little too fresh at that point.”

“Are you going to ask him?” She’s suddenly quite alert, sitting cross-legged and bright-eyed.

“I’m scared a little . . .”

“That means you have to, you know.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“So call him.” Tosha nudges my thigh with her foot.

“What? Like now? Are we thirteen?”

She stares, unamused. Rolling my eyes, I thumb through my phone, hover over his name, and finally tap “call.”

“Hello?” He’s smiling.

“Hey you.” I try to smile, but it’s feeling more like a tic.

I haven’t talked to Ryker since we had dinner at his dad’s house two weeks ago. Again, he hasn’t called me either. Although, he did text me the next day letting me know what a nice time he had.

“What’s going on?”

There’s nothing we can small talk about. I hate that. I just have to get right to the point.

“So, as you know, I’m seeing Dr. Greene again.”

His voice takes on a business-like tone, “I do.”

“Well . . .” Looking at Tosh, who gives me thumbs up, I’m grateful she made me call while she was here or I might never have had the guts to do it. “She suggested it might be a good idea if you come with me to one of my sessions. Evidently there are some things she thinks I should say to you in a therapeutic setting . . .” I try to sound sarcastic, but this isn’t particularly funny.

Well, this is quite a long pause.

Ryker clears his throat. “Can I think about it?”

My stomach drops. “Oh, of course.” For some reason tears prick at my eyes.

“It’s just—”

“No, Ryker, really, it’s fine. It’s a lot, I know.” Pinning my phone between my ear and shoulder, I start picking at my nails. “So, just in case, my next session is Wednesday at her Northampton office at two-thirty.”