In the Stillness(85)

“There she is!” George claps his hands and smiles back.

As I lean in to hug him, the woman smiles. “You must be Natalie.”

“I am,” I extend my hand and she takes it, still smiling. “And you must be Marion.”

“What have you told her?” She playfully taps her husband’s arm.

Holding up his hands in mock defense, he laughs, “All good things, all good things.”

“If you two would like some time alone, I can come back another time, I don’t mind.”

“Nonsense, Dear,” Marion scolds playfully. “Sit. I’ve heard a lot about you from blabbermouth over here, and I wanted to come meet you myself.”

I’ve spent a few weeks visiting George. The Soldiers’ Home has an Adopt-a-Veteran program that provides one-on-one visits to residents with volunteers. I was terrified at first that he would assume I was there to make myself feel good, or something, but it turns out he was just happy to have someone to talk to. His wife, Marion, lives with their daughter, but George’s medical needs require 24-hour care. At 82, he looks strong and is of sound mind, but a lifelong love of smoking has left him with emphysema, amongst other issues. Marion visits as often as she can, George has told me, but she doesn’t drive anymore so it depends on their daughter’s work schedule.

“George tells me you have twins?” Marion’s face is bursting with that grandmotherly type of love as I take the seat across from them.

“I do. Max and Oliver; they turned five in July.”

“Boys,” she pretends to faint, “you must be busy! We have one boy and one girl and, I’ll tell you what, boys are easier, but gosh they’re a lot of work when they’re little! Where do they go to kindergarten?”

“Max goes to Amherst, and Oliver goes to the Clarke School in Northampton.”

I haven’t told George that I have a deaf son. Both of them look confused for a moment, until realization crosses Marion’s face.

“Is he deaf?” she asks with a furrowed brow.

I nod. “He is. He hasn’t been since birth . . . he has a degenerative condition.” I spend a couple of minutes telling them about our summer with Ollie’s hearing.

Marion places her cool hand on mine when I finish. “I’m sorry, dear. But, it sounds like you and your husband are taking it in stride and the boys are doing well.”

“We are, but,” I feel weird talking about divorce to a couple that’s managed to keep their shit together for however long they have, “we’re divorcing. It was in the works before Ollie’s diagnosis.” Shrugging, I look down for a split second before I talk myself out of it and face their looks head on.

Their eyes aren’t filled with condemnation, and not even sorrow. They look like they . . . understand.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Bug.” George taps my knee. He joked about my nickname “Nat” on day one, and has called me bug for the last month. Who would tell him to stop? He’s adorable.

“What branch of the military is he in?” Marion asks.

I’m thrown slightly off balance by her question. “What? Who?”

“Your soon-to-be ex-husband. Is he a Marine, too?”

“Oh,” I exhale, having misinterpreted the direction of her questioning, “he’s not in the military, never was.”

“Oh . . .” she seems confused, “what brings you in here then? Usually the young girls that volunteer here have husbands or boyfriends overseas, or did.”

Looking to the ceiling for an answer, I bite the inside of my cheek.

“Ah,” George cuts into my train of thought, “there’s a story there, I see. If you ladies will excuse me, I have to go get my place in line for dinner so the vultures don’t steal all the oranges.” Slowly getting up with a cough, he wheels his oxygen tank behind him as he leaves for the cafeteria.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” Marion asks with a smile.

My grin gives me away before I can explain. “Sort of . . .”

“Do you want to tell me about him?”

I sigh. “How much do you want to know?”

“As much as it takes for me to understand why he wasn’t the one you married in the first place.” Her smile elicits a chuckle from me.

I stare at her for a minute before I decide she can clearly handle whatever it is I have to tell her. So, I start at the beginning. The very beginning. Marion dabs at her eyes with a tissue when I tell her about Ryker pulling me into a kiss a minute or so after we met. While I don’t go into every single gory detail of the end of our relationship, I don’t sugarcoat it, either. By the end, finishing with the birthday present Ryker sent to my boys, both Marion and I are crying into what’s left of the hospital-grade tissues.

“That’s one of the most beautiful stories I’ve heard in a long time, Natalie.” Marion blows her nose and reaches for another tissue.

“Are you kidding? It’s a mess!” I laugh, drying my eyes and running a hand through my hair.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she whispers, “it only looks like a mess because it’s not over yet.”

My stomach lurches a little. “What?”

“It’s not over yet between you two. Not after what I’ve heard,” she states very matter-of-fact. “Listen, walk with me to the cafeteria and I’ll tell you about George and me.”