After the last of the guests had gone, and the lower level was cleaned up and put back together, The Manning Family headed up to bed at last. It was a Thanksgiving to remember, in so many ways, and Todd and Blair were both tired enough to fall into sleep easily.
Blair turned over and saw the clock glowing 3:15 a.m. and realized what had woken her. Todd had jerked awake, and was sitting at the edge of the bed in the dark. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that he was slightly rocking and holding his head with both hands. She sat up, quietly, and said, "Todd?"
He didn't answer her. She could hear faint mumbling, and whatever he was saying it was at a very fast pace.
"Todd?" she tried a second time.
Since he did not respond, she slid closer, and then remembering things she had learned since he returned, she was careful with what to do next. Instead of approaching him from behind, she went to her side of the bed, got down, and walked around to his side so she could kneel in front of him. It had been so long since he had been in night terror, she tried to shake herself from sleep and focus.
Getting closer to him, she could see he was shaking, and could hear him more clearly.
I have a wife, her name is Blair. I have a daughter, her name is Starr. I have a son, his name is Jack. I have a new baby, his name is Ray. I have a life. I have a life. It repeated, over and over, and as if there were no feelings attached; it rambled off his tongue at high speed. In between, she could hear, It's going to stop. It's going to stop.
She got down on the floor in front of him, and tried to catch his eye.
His eyes were closed. He held his head almost as if he were trying to close out sound. His breathing was rapid and he was trembling so much, that she could not stand to watch him any longer. She decided to take a chance. She called his name, much louder than a whisper, and reached out her hand to touch his face.
He gasped in air once, loud enough to make her jump, and then his eyes opened and fell on hers. His desolate expression twisted her heart. She took her hands and pulled both of his off his head, still looking into his face. He lowered them, her hands still covering his. He didn't speak: she didn't speak. Instead, he just leaned forward and went to her arms, falling from the edge of the bed to the floor in front of her as he did. She held him, and both of them embraced that way, in the dark, for a long time.
Finally, she said, "You have to let this out. Whatever it is."
He was silent. This made her afraid, and she prayed he would say something, anything. She longed to hear his voice to know he had not left her.
She waited. Then she said, "Can you just let me know you're here, that you're okay?"
The room was still, and maddeningly soundless. Just as she felt a sob building in her chest, she heard him say, "I'm here."
The sound of her relief was audible. "Okay," he was still in her arms, "okay."
"It's bad. I can tell."
"We've been through bad before."
"I don't think it was this kind of bad."
"Maybe. But, we got through it all, right?"
She felt him nod. He said, "I want to disappear. . ."
"I know," she said, and her fear gripped her stomach with an iron hand.
". . . and never come out."
"You won't. You love us too much to leave," she said.
She felt him relax more. "The boys."
"Yes, the boys."
"Starr, and Little Hope."
"Yes."
His voice cracked, "You."
Hers cracked, and faded to whisper. "Yes." Her faltering angered her, because she wanted to be strong. She cleared her throat and said in a more forceful tone, "You won't leave us. Todd, just tell me. Let me help."
He pulled out of their embrace at last, and realized his tank was damp from sweating. He said, "I'm a mess, sorry for sweating on you."
"I like your sweat. You know that." She was hoping he wouldn't do the Todd Manning deflection.
He said, "I used to think . . . these memory flashes were about something bad I did. I was so afraid I'd done something else terrible."
"I know, but you worked that out with Ray."
"Yeah. Now I know it's not that."
"Okay," she said, still stroking his hair as he spoke. It was more of a question than a comment.
"I'm scared of what it is. I'm afraid to find out."
"I know. But it's tearing you up. Maybe it's better . . ."
"No!" he exploded, and got up of the floor. He started pacing. "I can't. I just . . . no!"
She watched him, and had to turn her head for a moment. She felt like his torment was killing both of them. She got up and went to him. "Stand still, Todd."
He ignored her, pacing back and forth. Frantic, he said, "I have a wife . . ."
"No, Todd!" she raised her voice, "no, listen. Stop." She tried to grab his arms and hold him still. "Stop. Once you remember, once you know . . ."
He broke free of her grasp and grabbed a sweat jacket off the sofa, and in one movement, he was out of her sight, and plummeting down the stairs. She ran to the balcony, and after two or three minutes, she saw him come into view. He was running. She was in a scant nightie, and it took a few minutes to dress in something warm, before she raced down after him and went out into the yard. Of course, by the time she got out there, she couldn't see him anywhere. It was still dark, and even with the motion detector lights that had snapped on, the cold and dark sky made it surreal. The grass was coated in frost, and her feet through her shoes could feel the algidity through the leather. He had no shoes. He's afraid. What if he . . . if he goes inside himself out there, we'll never find him. He'll freeze. He'll die. She panicked, and calling to him at the top of her lungs, frantically began to search all around the property, stopping just short of the woods. That she feared most.
***
Jack woke, hearing his mother's voice in the distance somewhere calling his father's name. At first, he thought he was dreaming it; they had all had a beautiful Thanksgiving, and his father seemed to be doing better. He listened again, and he was sure. It was her. She was outside? He got up, and threw on his sweats and sneakers, and, pulling a sweatshirt out of his closet, threw it on as he walked toward their bedroom. The door was wide open and they were not inside. What the hell? He went to the stairs and barreled down, and found himself in the yard. After scanning the whole thing, he saw her. "Mom?" he said, running to her side.
"Jack," she said, and he could tell she was putting on an expression of artificial calm. "Why are you up?"
"I heard you calling him. Where is he?"
She pulled herself together the best she could. "He's around here somewhere. We . . . had a fight and he wanted to get some air." Jack looked into her eyes in total disbelief, and she said, "No, that's not true . . ." and stopped herself. She couldn't say more.
"He's been remembering bad things. I heard him talking about it. Something, he doesn't know what is it. But whatever it is, it's scary. He told me."
She looked with shock at her son, and then said, "Go back inside and call John. Now. I'm afraid, Jack, he could . . . go catatonic and then . . . he could freeze out here. He's got bare feet, he's only got a light jacket. Go, please, call John."
"You go, Mom. For real. I'll find him."
"No, Jack. Go inside, now, young man, and call John. I . . . don't want you to see him like this, and I know he wouldn't either."
"No. Sorry to disobey you, but I want to stay and help. You can't go looking for him alone. You don't know the woods, and you're all upset and girlie and stuff."
She cracked a smile, and a tear escaped her eye. "My son," she said, touching his cheek, "I'm proud to be your Mom."
"And that makes two of us. Except, I'm not proud to be your Mom, I'm proud to be your Dad." Todd said, from behind them, and they both turned to his voice. "Blair, you know I like to take these night runs. You shouldn't have worried."
She looked at him, without shoes, one foot she thought might be bloodied, and his appearance was totally disheveled and haggard. But, she went with it. "Oh, that's true. I just got nervous, that's all. I was overreacting, as always." She turned back, "Sorry, Jack."
Jack knew his father and mother were attempting to protect him. With his own drinking of late, and needing help with everything on his head, his father was struggling not to put more on his shoulders. Knowing this, he accepted the story and said, "Gee, Dad, you ought to tell someone. Or leave a note."
"You're right. I'll do that. Go inside, Jack. All right?"
"Yeah, okay Dad. I'll go." He looked at his father a bit longer, and then turned and went in.
Blair just looked after Jack, and then turned back to Todd. She said, "Are you . . ."
"All right? Fuck, Blair, when have I been? I can't stay here, Blair. I can't. I'm ruining Jack, and Sam's next."
"Stop, please."
"I should leave until I'm . . . better. I'm going after Christmas."
"No," she said.
"I should leave, Blair," he was adamant. "Until I'm okay. It's the way it has to be."
"We'll talk about this later, just come inside."
"We'll talk about it later, but it has to happen. And you know it does." He put out his hand to her, and she took it, and hesitated, as they walked, hand in hand, back to the house.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Your comments are 'payment' for the work of the authors. Our writers like to hear your feedback. Please leave a comment when you read.
oh poor Todd..
ReplyDelete