In the Stillness(83)

She crosses her legs. “And, have you found it too intense?”

I shake my head. “It’s been intense, for sure. But . . . not too intense . . .” I look to the ground.

“What is it, Natalie?”

“I really do still love him, Dr. Greene. For the longest time I’ve tried to tell myself that our crazy, mad love story was a product of the drama of war and being in college, but—”

“But what?”

“It was real. True.” I grab a fresh tissue. “Either way, I don’t want him to disappear again. I’m not saying I want to be with him, or anything . . . I just don’t want to say goodbye again.” Even saying “goodbye” in a sentence involving Ryker tugs at my insides.

Dr. Greene nods, licking her lips. “I think your honesty about your feelings is an excellent step, Natalie. I’d say how you’re handling it so far is working, wouldn’t you?”

I nod.

“How was the boys’ birthday?” She changes course, and I’m thankful for the relative break.

I quickly recount the events of the day to Dr. Greene, who nods along like she belongs on a car dashboard.

“Do you think your mother’s apology was sincere?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. She’s never apologized for anything before. I guess it doesn’t really matter if she’s actually sorry, though, does it? That’s kind of on her at this point.”

Dr. Greene smiles. “That’s very good, Natalie, and you’re right. But you know she might want to revisit the conversation, especially if your father tells her about Ryker?”

I tell Dr. Greene there’s no way on God’s green earth that my dad will tell my mom about Ryker. He knows I’ll tell her if and when I’m ready. We discuss some conversational techniques I can use if my mom should want to bring up our conversation again.

“What coping strategies have you been developing to stand in for the cutting?”

“I’ve been really busy, actually, which has been great. Classes at Mount Holyoke start again in a few weeks, so I’ve been gathering materials and preparing lectures. Also, the boys are starting school around then, too, and we’ve been preparing them for that.”

Dr. Greene raises her perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Busy isn’t a coping strategy, Natalie.”

Is so.

“Well, before I was married and had kids, I was a student. That’s what I did, that’s who I was. I read, wrote, and read some more. I loved to study and learn. I never really did anything else.”

“So, have you thought about some things you might want to do with your time, especially on the weeks you don’t have the boys? You’ll be very busy on the “on” weeks that I’m concerned for the “off” weeks. You, yourself, have said that the downtime is a trigger for you.”

“There’s one thing I’ve been tossing around . . .” I shift a little, and have to remind myself that my mother’s not sitting next to me. “When I first saw you, back when I came back to school after taking the semester off, I saw a flyer in my dorm for volunteering at the Holyoke Soldiers’ Home. It probably would have been too soon for me to do something like that, but I wanted to. I know my mom would have had a complete meltdowns, though, so I never did.”

She nods. “Why do you want to do that now?”

Oh, Dr. Greene, you and your loaded questions ...

“I know a little bit about what it’s like, I guess. Most of the men in there are very elderly, with little—if any—family left. I guess . . . I guess I picture Ryker in there someday, and it breaks my heart to think of him sitting alone.”

Dr. Greene and I agree that it’s worth me checking into the volunteer opportunities at the Soldiers’ Home, and soon I’m on my way back home. Pulling out of the parking lot, I scroll to Ryker’s number in my cell phone.

“Hello?”

I love that people still say “hello” with a question, as if they don’t have caller ID.

“Hey, Ry,” my voice starts to shake so I speak as quickly as possible, “I got the flowers, and the card . . . and the book.”

“Are you crying?”

I nod, like he can see me. “Yeah, uh, um . . . it was really sweet of you to . . . and the inscription . . .” I’ve pulled over on the side of the road, since crying and talking while driving is probably not a great idea.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Natalie . . . shit, I’m sorry.” His voice is melodic, like a lullaby. “I just want your boys to know, someday, how awesome you are. I mean, they’ll know, obviously, but about that . . . ah, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“I do,” I chuckle through the emotion, “and it was sweet. And completely unnecessary. You’re the hero, you know. You always have been.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You didn’t sign your name . . . after your note.”

There’s a short pause before Ryker speaks. “I just wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t know what you’d want them to know about me, if anything. I wanted them to have the book, either way.”

“I appreciate your concern, but . . . I want you to sign it. When you’re ready.”

“Where are you now?” he asks, seeming to hold my statement somewhere in the air.