In the Stillness(76)

I smack my lips. “You’d know what to do if you bothered working with his therapists when they were here.”

“Oh, and you’re so perfect?” His tone is suddenly sharp.

“Ha. Hardly. I just want to feel as prepared as possible, Eric, and that means learning every tool I can.”

He anchors himself in the center of the room with his hands on his hips. “And you don’t think I do?”

Eric and I haven’t talked this much alone since after I found him with what’s-her-name over a month ago. We’re able to play nice long enough to hand off the boys and get through meeting with our attorneys, but that’s it. Eric’s been functioning under some warped paradigm of denial from the second the doctor told us about Ollie’s diagnosis. He wants Ollie to be the rare case whose hearing returns and stays. Of course I do, too, but for the sake of my child, I have to operate in reality.

“What I think is that you’re hoping if you don’t learn sign language, or work with his therapists, or learn any of the coping techniques, that means he’ll magically have to start hearing again. All you’re doing is a disservice to you both.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

My stomach churns at the desperation in his voice, and I decide to put my sword down for a second.

Realizing I’ve been absentmindedly picking up toys and dishes from around Eric’s apartment, I drop the Transformer currently in my hand, cross my arms, and stare at him.

“Okay,” I breathe, “I think we have to start researching those nannies his OT gave us. The ones who know sign language and are certified in some of the therapies we’ve been learning. We’re lucky that neither one of us has to work much this summer, but you’ve seen how it is, it’s incredibly stressful to even take them to the playground by yourself . . . I think we both need some extra help for a while.” I walk over to a kitchen chair and sit, crossing my legs.

Eric follows, sitting across from me. “I agree. It’ll help take some stress off Max, too. The boy has to have his own childhood, you know . . .”

“Eric, I know he does. But, his life has changed just as much as ours and Oliver’s. He’s not being robbed of his childhood by learning how to live with a brother with a disability. It’s a new reality for all of us—Max included.”

Eric and I spend the next hour going over some of the nannies given to us, and decide to interview them over the next several days. We decide it’s best to use the same nanny to maintain consistency for the boys, and we agree to leave our marriage and divorce issues out of it.

“I really am sorry . . .” I nearly have my hand on the door when Eric starts in.

“Eric,” I sigh, “even if I believed that, I’m too tired to talk about it right now.”

“What do you mean, if you believed it?”

I can’t put any disdain into my voice; I’m too exhausted. “You say sorry after an accident. Was every day of the last year, when you carried out the affair, an accident?”

“It’s not just about the affair, Natalie.” Eric walks toward me.

“I know it’s not, but . . .” A tear finally falls and I think Eric’s going to break into a million pieces. He’s rarely seen me cry. Mad? Yes, a lot. In tears? Not often. “The affair was calculated and intentional,” I continue. “And, even though we both made choices about all the other things, we weren’t sure of the outcomes then, you know? How could you have thought an affair would work out well?”

“Natalie . . .” I still don’t hate those honey brown eyes, I just wish they had a shred of honesty behind them.

“Eric, don’t. I don’t want to rehash it. I’m just trying to move forward from it, okay? I had a bitch of a therapy session today, and I just want to go home and go to sleep.” Wiping under my eyes, I replace my hand on the doorknob.

“You’re in therapy?” he asks, barely sounding surprised.

“I don’t want to cut anymore, Eric. In order for that to happen, I need to start getting really honest with myself. I’ll see you Sunday when you drop off the boys.” I open the door a crack.

“Thank you for coming. I—”

“Any time, Eric. And I mean that. We’re still their parents.” With a smile I step out of the door.

“Natalie,” Eric calls quietly after me.

“Yeah?”

Eric runs a hand through toddler-messy hair. “I’m glad you don’t want to cut anymore. That scares the shit out of me.”

“I know, me too. I’m working on it though, okay?”

“Yeah. Bye,” he sighs and walks back into the apartment.

“Bye,” I whisper to the closed door.





Chapter 38





“How did you feel when you got to Eric’s apartment?” Dr. Greene tilts her head to the side, and I absently wonder if she has any neck muscles.

I told her about the frantic call from Eric, and having to go settle things.

“At first, I was just nervous. I heard the boys crying in the background when he called, and I had to get there. Then, I got a little pissed . . .” I shake my head.

“Why are you frustrated with Eric, Natalie?”

“Because for Christ’s sake, for five years I’ve been essentially handling the boys from morning till dark by myself. He has a few single-weeks alone with them and he’s already pulling his hair out. Give me a break. It’s like he feels there’s a different reality when he’s with them than when I’m with them.”