Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 10

The noise he heard was himself, waking with a gasp.  He turned immediately toward Blair, who turned over toward him and opened her eyes.  "I heard you."  She said.  "You're suffering, Todd.  Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"I can't. . ."

He sat up, gasping.  He looked around, then to the lump in the sheets next to him that was his wife.  Her breathing was regular, and soft.  Her hair was shining in the moonlight against the pillow like strands of gold.  He touched it, and she turned over.  To his surprise, she had her eyes open already, and she reached out and touched his mouth.  "Todd, why are you lying to me?"

***

Jack, waking from another nightmare, sat up.  His pajama tank top was soaked through with sweat.  He fumbled in the dark for the small light by his bed.  Get it together.  It was just a dream.  He didn't even remember what the dream was, just that it shook him up.  He pulled the covers back, and searched for his Ipod in his bookbag.  There was the drawing Jenna had given him.  It was of an angel, a male one, with large, outstretched wings.  He was looking into a graveyard.  He studied her art.  The pencil lines were so deliberate and smooth.  The corner held a small signature, with nothing more:  Jenna.  He lay back down, looking at the picture that he held over his face, and studied each line.  He imagined her face, and found himself calming.  

***

He heard her.  He just wasn't sure what to say.  "Lying?"

"Yes, lying.  You're in trouble, emotionally.  And you don't want to tell me.  Now, why?  Have I made you think I can't handle it?  Have I been a neglectful wife?"

He turned to her in the dark.  He recited Ray's words in his mind:  How do you know you did something?  They could be anything.  Memories, imaginings, things from books, movies, horror stories.  Memories. . . "No.  You're a perfect wife."

"Don't you love me anymore?  Don't you love us?"

"Blair, you know I do.  That's . . . I can't believe you're even saying it."

"I can't believe we're talking about this.  You promised me."

He felt a pang of guilt, then sense took over.  "What makes you think I am breaking any promise?"

***

Jack sat up again, jerked completely out of sleep.  He sat up, and saw the picture, lying on the floor by the bed.  He swallowed.  Shane's mother, she's dead because of you.  Dead.  In the grave.  He'll never see her again.  You kill people. . .

I just want to sleep.  No dreams.  He tossed and turned for a while.  Finally, he threw the covers off again and planned to tiptoe toward the stairs.  But first, he would have to get by his parents' bedroom to make it downstairs to the liquor cabinet.

***

"Todd," she said, scooting closer.  She put her hand behind his head and played with his hair.  "You're struggling, with something.  We're supposed to be here for each other.  What did you tell Dorian?  We get each other?"

He closed his eyes.  "Just . . . hold me, Babe."

She did.  He felt her creep close enough that her body was touching his, and she wrapped one leg around him and pulled him to her.  "Okay, I'm holding you.  What would make you keep something from me?"

His voice sounded far away and smaller.  "I was afraid what it means.  I still am."

"Are you ready to talk about it?"

"No.  Not yet.  I tried today.  When I do, my chest tightens and I can't breathe."

"Like panic."

"I guess, yeah."

She smoothed his shoulders.  "When you're ready, my love.  But don't keep anything from me, you promised you wouldn't.  Nothing will change for us, Todd.  You have to trust me."

You have to trust me.  Trust me.  

A key in a door.  The door is small. . .

"I do," he said, "I trust you more than anyone, you know that."

"All right then, no more hiding things.  When you're ready to talk about it, you just tell me."  She pulled back from him a minute, "I want to be there for you, and you know this.  Remember the other night?  I never could have made it through that without you.  You have to let me do the same.  That's what couples do.  Let me take care of you, Todd."

***

He was able to get by the door of the master bedroom suite without alerting them, and because he could hear the sound of them softly talking, he didn't stand still and listen this time.  He made his way to the lower level, and the cabinet where his father kept the booze.  Opening it softly, he grabbed the first bottle he saw, and slugged.  A few more times, and he found himself putting it back, like a thief in the night, and then sat back, looking into the dark.

***

He didn't know how to respond to her except to kiss her, passionately, and let her know how deeply she moved him.  His hands were in her hair, and she pulled him closer, her hand in his long strands, moving his mouth harder to hers.  They broke the kiss and he said, "Please, understand.  I just . . . can't.  Not now. I don't know what it's about yet, it's all flashes.  They're not . . . I can't make sense of them."

"Maybe I can help," she said, propping herself on her elbows.

He turned onto his back, looking to the ceiling.  He contemplated telling her everything, but in his fear, he just said, "There are flashes.  Little snapshots in my head.  Sometimes they wake me.  Sometimes I'm already awake."

"What are they of?  Are they bad?"  She had the worried softness to her voice.

"They're not that bad alone.  Only one of them is sort of, scary.  Together, they're creepy."

She went forward carefully.  "Okay.  Once you say them, maybe they won't be so bad."

"Tried that.  Well, with one of them.  Ray had me try and remember the context of one and I had a little attack."

"Panic, like tightness in here," she touched his chest.

"Yeah."

"It's okay.  I'm right here.  You don't have to think about it if you don't want to, Todd."

He wasn't sure he could say it without feeling the stress in his chest, but he ventured ahead, and said, "One's a lightbulb.  In the ceiling, with a pull chain.  Today I remembered I couldn't reach it, which means I was a child.  When it first started happening, I was afraid that . . . that maybe . . ."

"That maybe it was something terrible you did, as a man?"

He turned and looked at her, and the child-like need for acceptance in his eyes made her swallow and stroke his scar with her fingers.  She said, "It's all right.  I know how you think.  At least you know this is not about that."

He turned his face to the ceiling again and she noticed a single tear pouring out of the side of his eye.  He said, "Right.  The only thing is, Ray thinks I avoid it because it's going to be worse.  Maybe I know that somewhere in here, I don't know."  He pointed to his head.

"We'll find out.  Together.  Look at me, Todd."

He did.  She smiled before she said, "Nothing is going to change, do you understand that?  Not between us, ever.  That's over with, those separations.  Behind us."  She crept close to him, sliding her arms in his arm, and putting her head against his shoulder.  

He said, "I don't know how I got this, but I couldn't live if I didn't have it.  I love you, Blair."

"I love you, Todd," she whispered.

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