bang on the door, interrupting my stare-down with Eric.
“The only reason,” I purr venomously, “that I’m unemployed is because you begged me not to have an abortion. Then, you continued on your merry way to your Ph.D. while I became a stay-at-home mom because we couldn’t afford for me to continue school, and we didn’t want our kids in daycare for the hours that I’d have to work at the job I already had.”
He swallows hard as I step slowly toward him.
“As for the cutting? If you think it has nothing to do with you, then you’re as sick as I am.” I push past him and open the bedroom door, addressing my boys, “Guys go sit back down please, Mommy’s coming out to make you breakfast.”
They turn and scramble back toward the TV as Eric stops me. “What do you mean it has to do with me?”
“It’s us, Eric. I’ve been horribly unhappy for months, trying to deal with being basically a single mom while you were at the lab—”
“Getting my doctorate, Natalie. It’s not like I was screwing off.”
“I know!” I huff. “But three seconds after you get a job you’re talking about buying a house and knocking me up again. What about my plans?” My strained whisper is starting to turn into a yell.
Eric’s eyes burn through me. “It’s not just about you anymore, when will you accept that?”
“Never, because it wasn’t about me when this happened, either. I never wanted any of this, and I refuse to serve a life-long sentence because of it.”
Eric shakes his head rapidly in frustration. “Look,” he whispers, “that’s not how this started.” He grabs my arm, pointing to the nearly faded marks. “This is how it started. It stops. Today.” He squeezes my arm a little before throwing it down to my side.
We stare at each other in a silent standoff. I’ve threatened to take his kids and he’s threatened to tell my mother about the cutting—which would ruin things even more than they already are.
Shit.
Placing a smile on my face, I walk to the kitchen and proceed to make my children breakfast. Eric kisses the boys on the head before he leaves for work, but says nothing to me. I need to keep my shit together long enough to make a plan, so I silently resolve not to cut until after his graduation. I’ll have to wear a fancy summer dress, anyway.
Chapter 14
Apparently I smoke now. Thankfully, since the boys were up early this morning, they went down for a nap shortly after lunch. Honestly, my first thought was to go to the bathroom and cut. This morning’s fight with Eric was the nastiest one we’ve ever had. I can’t cut, though, and it’s driving me insane. I just want to a little. Just a little. I need a release from this pressure cooker Eric and I are living in—I need to exercise some control. So, when the boys fall asleep I thankfully remember the cigarettes I bought before I went to visit Tosha.
I’m two cigarettes in when Tosha walks up our back stairs.
“Jesus, you look like hell.” She sits next to me and holds out two fingers. I hand her a cigarette and a lighter. After the first long drag, she looks at me. “Eric called me today.”
“Shocking.” I was truly prepared for this. “What’d he say?”
She leans forward, resting her arms on her knees. “He said he knows you’re cutting . . . wanted to know if I knew anything about it. I lied.”
“Thanks.”
“He said you threatened to take the kids away?”
I exhale long and slow. “It’s my trump card, Tosh. It’s all I had when he was staring at my hips . . .”
“Your hips? I thought the cuts on your arm were the last time you were going to . . . never mind. Look, you’re starting to scare me.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. I interlace my fingers with hers as tears work their way down my cheeks.
“I need to leave him, Tosh.”
“So leave. Don’t take yourself down in the process, Nat. He’ll just take it out against you during custody hearings.” She squeezes my hand. “You have to be in control of you.”
* * *
Finally, the call came. Ryker was coming home. After surgery in Germany to reconstruct what they could of his right shoulder, he was shipped to Walter Reed. He was only there for a couple of weeks, but we didn’t talk during that time. I was taking finals