In the Stillness - By Andrea Randall Page 0,59

and having told him before that I hate him, Eric pulls me into a comforting embrace. My arms hang uselessly at my side. He knows everything, Eric does. He knows I missed school for a semester because I was a cutter with a borderline-abusive boyfriend, and that we’d made a spectacular mess of both of our lives. He knows I didn’t want to have his children, or get married just because it was the “proper” thing to do. Eric knows I resentfully put my aspirations on hold so he could fulfill his. And, still, he tries to hug my pain away.

“I’m sorry, Eric.” I apologize for things I can’t verbalize. Things from ten years ago and things from yesterday. I’m just sorry we’ve gotten in this far before I’ve had the clarity to leave. It’s like I never considered it an option.

“Me too, Hon,” he whispers as he softly rubs my back. “I know this is stressful, Nat, but we’ll get through it, okay?” He pulls away, holding me at arm’s length. “You’re an amazing mom to those boys. They’re lucky to have you.” His eyes say something else, something I can’t quite read, but I appreciate his sentiment. “Look,” he continues, “graduation is Friday, then the boys are going to your parents’, and we can have some alone time to figure things out.”

“I don’t really know what there is to figure out, Eric.” I’m not trying to be cruel, but I don’t want him to interpret my tears as surrender. He’ll want to talk about getting us back on track. There’s no track. Either way, I can’t have that conversation now.

My eyes must look as empty as they feel, because Eric takes one look at me and drops his hands.

“Whatever.” He walks back to the recliner and resumes his responsibilities to his Fantasy Baseball team.

“Yeah, whatever.”

I trudge to our bedroom and rifle through my closet until I find my old denim jacket, still proudly displaying its yellow ribbon. The silk under my fingers suggests a lightness and comfort that doesn’t exist between its fibers. I replay Ryker’s smile and honest hug today, letting myself wonder if he’s finally come home. Shaking my head, I shove the jacket back into my closet. Today was just some sort of sentimental wormhole through which Ryker and I slipped together for a short time. He’s alive and, honestly, that’s more than I expected.

Chapter 24

Finally. Eric’s graduation. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been equally anticipating the boys’ vacation when this day is over.

“I bet you’re looking forward to getting out of this tiny apartment and getting into a house.” My mom cuts right to the chase as she helps me dress the boys. They drove up last night and stayed at a hotel down the road.

“It’ll be nice,” I half-heartedly confirm, not wanting to give her any more. Like, how I don’t think Eric and I will ever live anywhere else . . . together.

“You look tired, Dear.” Bless her heart, she can dress up any insult into concern. The boys get their blonde hair from her. It sits in a glassy bob that falls just below her chin.

“I’m ready for a break. Thank you for taking these two monsters.” I laugh as I tickle the bellies of their freshly-pressed shirts. “Go find Grampa, then we’ll go.” We’re all meeting for a late lunch at Eric’s parents’ house before the evening ceremony. He had to leave early for a reception with his department and said he’d stop by his parents’ house before the ceremony. We’ll see.

I told my parents over the phone about Ollie’s hearing. Despite my trepidation regarding their potential reaction, they were quite understanding and even more excited to take the boys.

My mom fusses with the back of my knee-length “doctor’s wife” dress as I check my lipstick in the mirror. “I’m sure you and Eric could use some quiet time after the stress he’s had over the last several months.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle and mutter, “he’s had,” under my breath.

“What’s that?” She asks, catching my stare in the mirror.

I smack my lips together one final time and smile. “Nothing.”

“Navy looks lovely on you, though you look a little pale. Are you okay?”

She doesn’t care if I’m okay. We’ve never been close, my mother and I. I don’t know if it’s just that my dad and I always bonded over books and scotch—yeah, he let me try scotch at fifteen and I was in love—or if she just wasn’t cut

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