Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“What do you need?” Alex asked, coming to my side, his hands out in front of him as if I were going to fall over or something.
“Just tired,” I replied, never meeting his eyes. “I’m going to go back to sleep.”
I shuffled back into our room and crawled into bed, leaving my robe on as I pulled the blankets up around my shoulders. I stared at my cast as I lay there, running my fingers over the ridges and the smooth cotton that peeked out near my thumb. I’d never broken a bone before, not even a finger. My dad had called me Gumby because he’d said that my bones must have been able to bend, considering the number of times I’d fallen out of trees and crashed my bike as a child.
I missed them so much. My mom would know what to say right now. She’d know exactly what to do. Please take care of her, Mama, I thought, sending it out into the universe. Love her until I get there.
It hadn’t been a good idea to come back to Missouri. In hindsight, I realized that it wasn’t where I wanted to be. I’d wanted to somehow bring back the feeling I’d had when my parents were alive, but I’d never found it. Twice now, this place had completely shattered my life, and I was left trying to find all the pieces.
If I closed my eyes tight enough, I could almost imagine that I was somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t constantly bombard me with bad memories.
* * *
The next few days went by in a fog of prescription pain medication and lack of interest on my part. Alex and his brother put up a Christmas tree, and I sat in the living room to open presents before going back to bed. Even Arie’s excitement wasn’t enough to hold my attention.
Hailey showed up to visit, unharmed from the accident, and I could barely look at her. I knew that none of this was her fault. I knew that. But it was still so goddamn unfair that she’d somehow come out of it all unscathed, but my world had been shattered.
I existed. Nine days after the accident, after Bram’s family had flown back to Oregon and I’d gotten the okay from my doctor, I went back to work and school. Just like that, as if nothing had changed.
I studied and I did my job, but nothing and no one could pull me out of the fog. I just didn’t care. My drive was gone, and I couldn’t seem to get it back.
I barely spoke to Alex, and after I’d flinched away from him enough, I was glad when he’d finally stopped trying to touch me. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want him to keep bothering me. Couldn’t he see that I was holding everything together by a thread? Why did he always have to push? Why couldn’t I just be left alone to heal?
“I don’t know how to help you,” he finally said, standing in the doorway of our bathroom as I pulled the plastic bag off my cast. I knew I’d locked the door before I’d gotten into the shower, and I glared when I realized he must have broken in somehow.
“I don’t need your help,” I replied, stepping into my underwear. I’d finally stopped bleeding.
“You need something,” he said, frustration making his words heavy and painful. “You barely talk. You barely leave the house.”
“I go to work every day,” I said calmly, brushing off his concern. He didn’t know how hard it was for me to even sit in the driver’s seat of my car.
“You don’t talk to me,” he said. “Maybe you should see someone. If you can’t talk to me, maybe you could talk to a doctor.”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink.”
Ignoring the sadness in his eyes, I edged around him and walked back to our room. I couldn’t take on his sadness. Didn’t he see that? I was barely functioning with my own. I went to bed and didn’t wake up until the next afternoon.
My husband continued to talk to me, telling me random things about his day, what his mom had told him on the phone, and whatever food he’d brought for dinner, but he didn’t expect responses, and I didn’t give him any. His last day in the Army was the following week, and even though I knew that the change was going to be difficult for him, I didn’t bring it up. I didn’t initiate any conversations anymore. I didn’t go to his going-away party, either.
I’d curled into myself like a potato bug, hiding all my soft parts behind a hard outer shell. It was the only way I could make it through each day. I knew how bad I was hurting Alex; I could feel it chipping at me a little more each time we spoke, but I couldn’t seem to stop. He was so good, so steady and strong, that I was afraid that the minute I let him back in, I’d completely fall apart because I knew he’d be there to catch me. I couldn’t let that happen. I was terrified to let go of my tightly held emotions.