In the Stillness(86)

You don’t say “no” to nice old ladies who just cried with you as you spilled your guts. You just don’t.

The walk to the cafeteria is rather long for someone as short as Marion, especially with her bad knee, but she makes it worth our while. George enlisted in the Marines in 1948, when he was eighteen years old. He and Marion had been high school sweethearts. When he was shipped to Korea in 1951, she lived with her parents until he came home.

“Did you save your letters from Ryker? Please tell me you did.” She holds my hand as we make our way down the hall.

“I did.” Thinking about the letters puts a lump in the center of my throat.

“Thank goodness. No matter whatever happens, never get rid of those, do you understand me? George’s letters got me through some very troubled days throughout our marriage. When he came home, we married right away. He was never injured in the line of duty, which was good, but it didn’t take me very long to figure out he’d seen things I wouldn’t ever understand.” Inexplicably, she pulls me to a set of chairs in the hallway a few feet from the cafeteria.

“The nightmares were the worst,” she admits. “I could handle him being distant at times during the day but . . . when he was yelling at things that I couldn’t see . . .” She pauses and shakes her head.

“I get it,” I whisper.

Marion goes on to tell me that it took several years for them to be able to have children, and by then a majority of the nightmares had stopped. She says that was no accident, as she looks to the sky.

“His drinking came in waves. He’d go months, or even years, without an issue. But, like a switch I couldn’t locate, he’d be down in that dark hole again.” She stands, letting me know we’re almost finished.

Gripping her hand, I lead her into the cafeteria. “How’d you get through it? The uncertainty, I mean.” I’ve spent a lot of time wondering what goes through Ryker’s head on a daily basis.

She stops and tilts her chin into the direction of her husband, who’s sitting with two plates in front of him. “Because I was never uncertain about our hearts.”

“Oh,” I whisper with a nod. “Well,” I clear my throat as we reach George’s table, “here’s your bride, George. Thank you for letting me borrow her for a few minutes.”

“Any time, Bug. See you next week?”

“Of course.” I kiss his cheek, and dip toward Marion.

“Take your time. But, it’s not over,” she whispers into my ear as she kisses my cheek.

The thread of impending tears causes me to simply nod and smile as I wave goodbye and walk to my car in a daze.

It’s not over.





Chapter 43





From the littlest mouths come the most sobering truths.

As I pack Max and Ollie’s bags to take them to Eric’s for Thanksgiving, Max tugs on my skirt.

“Mommy?” He doesn’t sign it, even though Ollie’s in the room. I’ve learned over the last three months that this means he’s sad or angry.

I sign to Ollie that I’m going to help Max in the bathroom and I’ll be right back. Once inside the bathroom, I sit on the toilet seat and hold Max’s hands.

“What’s up, Honey?” It feels weird not signing, but, admittedly, the break is nice sometimes.

“When will Ollie be able to hear again?” His round cheeks redden as he looks at the floor. He learned that from me, so I fix it.

Lifting his chin with my finger, I smile as his eyes meet mine. “He won’t be able to, Honey. Not anymore.”

“But I want him to.” His chin quivers as his dark eyes fill with tears.

With a heavy breath, I pull Max into a hug and tell him it’ll be okay. That’s something I miss terribly with Oliver, being able to hold him to my chest and comfort him with words at the same time. Hindsight might be 20/20, but it’s also a cruel bitch. It’s nothing worth beating myself up over, I’ve learned. I can’t go back and whisper stories to him as he falls asleep, or say anything that will comfort him when his eyes are closed in a screaming tantrum, but I’ve been able to form new traditions with him that make us both happy. It’s our new normal. And, it’s one in which I haven’t cut for five months. I’ll take it.

Eric and I arranged to have the boys be with him for Thanksgiving, and I’ll get them for Christmas Eve/ Morning, and they’ll go to his house on Christmas night. Last night the boys and I had our own Thanksgiving feast, and they’re mostly thrilled that they get two days of lots of food. I know we’ll have to adjust schedules as they get older, and maybe even try a holiday together but, for now, this is how it is.

“Hey guys!” Eric swoops them both in his arms when we arrive at his apartment.

He’s been dating someone for a couple of months, and he seems pretty happy about it. He says he hasn’t brought her around the boys, yet. I believe him, because I have to. We got into one argument last month when he asked if I was seeing anyone and I said no.

“Come on, Natalie, you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. You don’t need me to be with someone in order for it to be okay that you are, Eric. It’s fine. Really.”

“You’re not seeing Ryker?”