Layers (37 page)

I’m glad when we finally arrive.
I’ve run out of insignificant topics to discuss
.

~~~

Convincing my mother that I would eat after a short visit to the lakes is an exhausting battle, though with some miracle she eventually caves in.

Ever since we were toddlers she has been obsessed with our nutrition. Given both Steven and I are relatively skinny she takes it as her own life failure to have malnourished her children and future descendants and every chance she gets she tries to make amends.

“Hales, can you come over before heading out?” my father calls from his office and home clinic, giving me a chance to escape my mom before she shoves something edible down my throat.

“What is it, Dad?”

He sits behind his desk looking all authoritative, his broad body filling out the width of his brown leather chair. Under his half-moon glasses, he studies me for some beats before replying.

“What’s really going on, baby girl?” His eyes are tender brown with concern.

“What do you mean?” I try to look as casual as my conscience allows.
How can he see right through me
?

“My dear,” he sighs. “You can radiate as many smiles as you want to try to cover up whatever’s been eating at you, but you have to know your eyes aren’t cooperating. Hales, it’s been a while since I saw so much pain in these beautiful eyes of yours. Boy troubles?”

Leave it to the family doctor who’s been taking care of people for more than two decades to see right through my heart.

“What if I told you that it’s nothing that time can’t heal, Dad? I would much rather not dig into it.”

No matter how much time passes, I don’t think I’ll be able to remove him from my heart. I’m not even sure I’ll ever be able to look at anyone else in the same way again. How can anyone even measure up to him?

My dad inhales heavily. “Then I would say that I’ll respect your privacy and your wishes, and I would add that whenever you feel like talking I’ll be waiting here with open arms.” He looks deep in my eyes. “And as a certified physician I would say that talk and comfort ease a wounded heart.”

I stare down at my red sneakers so I can stifle back the tears before looking back at him. Even though he means well I feel more vulnerable than I did before.

“Lely, I think your phone is dying.” My mom’s voice reaches us from the kitchen, giving me a good excuse to flee my dad’s concerned gaze.

“I am pretty sure I haven’t brought my charger with me,” I murmur, annoyed.

“Perhaps ours could do the job?” she tries.

I shake my head, well aware of the fact that my parents haven’t upgraded their mobile devices since the Clinton administration.

Looking at the two screaming red lines, I figure it could last at least until tomorrow—I don’t plan to use it anyway.

~~~

Wearing my wetsuit, sunglasses and popping an Advil, I walk back to the kitchen to fetch the car keys. My mom’s at the counter cutting vegetables on a wooden chopping board with oldies playing in the background. Her kitchen is as spotless as the rest of the house. Daisies enrich the air with their fresh scent from their place in a clear vase on the dining table. My mom hums to the music, occasionally adding an almost unseen sway. Sanity is the word that comes to my mind as I observe this scene, this place.

Between the hideous pain that doesn’t leave my chest, work, Tasha, Ian’s constant hyperactivity, and no Daniel, this is the best place I could be right now. My sane place. Turning back as though sensing me my mom says, “Dad already secured your board to the car, Lely.”

My safe, comforting place.
I smile to myself.
Though being snug in Daniel’s arms beats even this
.

“Are you sure this is the best weather to surf?” my mom asks, looking skeptically out the window.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. If it gets stormier I’ll come back.”

She nods, utterly unconvinced, but lets me be.

Chapter 40: When It Rains It Pours

Nothing could be more symbolic of my current state than the great lakes spread in front of me with their raging gray waters. I need to battle the water, paddling frantically, to get to a point where I can catch waves; I am rocked by the manic water as I tread water waiting for the ultimate wave.
Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to surf in this weather after all
.
Do I have a death wish? Well, in my current state …
When I catch the wave it throws me forward; I almost lose my balance but regain it quickly and tune with the ride till I get to the shallow waters where it ends. I tire quickly from fighting the conditions and the water and am unable to stay out as long as I had planned. Heading back to shore, trying to make my way against strong currents, I’m viciously toppled off the board by a violent wave. My board is flung aside, tugging my leash, and ricochets forcefully back to my side. An instant, deep bruise radiates from where it hits my ribs. I catch my breath at the pain.
I need to get out of the water
. Any additional moment I stay could be highly dangerous, especially with this deep, throbbing ache that clouds my mind.

I sit on the sand for a while, nursing my physical and emotional wounds. Staring at the endless waters, I try to focus my mind on the movement and the shadows without much luck, as a pair of hazel eyes invade every other thought.

I start to revive fragments of sentences from our conversations, starting with the perfect weekend in Baja when he told me for the first time that he loved me. He’d whispered the words I longed to hear: “I am in love with you, Hales.” And how, when we came home, he told me he couldn’t bear the thought of being away from me. The more I think about it, the more I miss him, if that’s even possible. I miss every single part of him. The sense of security and serenity I felt in the indulging cage of his embrace, the body that makes my heart race at the mere thought of it, his taste, his unbelievable heavenly Daniel taste. I think about how perfect his weight feels pressed against me. How he played my song by the fire. The tenderness of his stare and the way it made me feel.

And just as the good memories swirl through my head, the less soothing ones appear. I’ll never be able to forget the look in his eyes when he asked me to read that awful gossip column. A look of disappointment, agony and betrayal, the one look that said what we had was over. I can still feel the exact, sharp pain of seeing the look that shattered my soul.

And then, again, the sweetest memory intrudes on my ache. A memory of when he tried to convince me to move in with him. “So, Hales, to summarize, my gut feeling tells me I have found
the one
.” Tears well up in my eyes from the unbearable, colossal loss.
I just can’t do without him.

We had it so good. I never imagined I would connect to someone on that level. I never thought it was possible to love anyone that way. I can’t grasp the fact that this pain won’t subside. It began with a shock, evolved to numbness and remains, a steady scorching, at the center of my core. With every breath I take, I physically feel the aching. I miss him more than I can even begin to admit to myself.

~~~

“Dad, can you have a look at something for me in your office?” I ask, trying to mask the hurt in my voice for the sake of my mom, who’s watching us closely.

“What is it?” he asks, while we walk side by side to his office. My mom’s forehead continues to increase until we’re out of sight.

“I got a little bump from the board.”

“Show me,” he demands, patiently wearing his physician’s persona. His eyes narrow as I pull up my pink shirt. He observes the blue and purple bruise diffusing heat between my ribs and shakes his head with an audible inhale.

“Ouch,” I breathe through gritted teeth as he presses against it.

“It doesn’t seem fractured, but I would like to bandage it just to protect it.” He turns to his mahogany and glass medicine cabinet while murmuring, “It must have been some hell of a blow,” and shakes his head again.

“Come closer.” I take two steps to stand next to him. “You should be taking better care of yourself.” Behind his glasses his eyes wear a soft expression and I know there is so much more laying under his words.

He tips my chin up to look at him. “Promise?”

I nod in silent agreement as he secures the bandage with two clips.

“Thanks, Dad.” I inch up to kiss his bearded cheek. He pulls me into a hug, carefully avoiding my bruise.

“Take these twice a day for the next few days. It should take care of the pain.” He hands me a small container with painkillers. “Again, Hales, Doctor’s orders. You … Take … Care.” He embraces me again before I leave his room.

~~~

“Lely, should I heat up your food now?” My mom, anxious for me to eat, welcomes me as I get back to the kitchen. Just to refrain from breaking her heart I agree, and her face lights up in response. I look at her affectionately.
Such simple little things please her.

The phone rings. “You want me to get it, Mom?” I say.

She shakes her head as she starts the microwave with a faint beep.

“Hello,” she answers calmly. “What is it, Amanda?”

I shift my stare to look at her, worried by the change in her tone. Her face has fallen and lost all its usual vitality and color.

“When did you hear that? How much does he know?” She listens, the knuckles on her right hand turning white from her intense grip on the counter. A cold shudder creeps through me, beginning at the bottom of my spine. It could only be something related to Steven; I can sense it too clearly. As she puts the phone on its cradle she turns to look at me, panic decorating her pale face.

“Is it Steven?” I ask, already knowing the answer but still waiting for some sort of dreadful confirmation. She looks at me, then her gaze slips away; introspective, she stares at an unmarked spot behind me.

“Is it Steven?” I’m shocked by my own loud voice when I repeat my question. My already loose nerves leave no place for composed behavior. I’m far from being able to control myself.
I cannot mentally or physically endure further agony
. My father’s appearance in the kitchen distracts us, and we both turn to look at him

“What’s going on in here?” He stares at us together, then at each of us individually. Finally, my mom snaps out of her shock and tells us about the call.

“Remember Ron, Amanda’s son? The one that was deployed with Steven and returned last month injured?”

My dad nods affirmative. I gape at them.

“He was watching the news about an attack on our forces in Kabul and he said he could tell it was Steven’s platoon by the few news shots he saw.”

I sink into the nearest chair; I am too much of an emotional wreck to hear this standing up.

“They don’t know for sure, but they’re talking about some missing and dead soldiers.” At the last fragment of her sentence her voice breaks. My father reassures us calmly, with a straight face. “There’s no need for panic. We don’t know anything for sure, which means we don’t know anything. Let’s go and check the news.” He takes off his glasses and cleans them at the hem of his shirt. Putting them back on, he holds out a firm hand for my mom to hold and she takes it with her unsteady one.

“Are you coming, Lely?” His eyes ask me to join.

“I want to call Tasha first.” I hug myself. There’s a sudden chill over me.

~~~

“Hey, Tash.”

“What’s wrong?” she asks at the sound of my voice.

I scratch the side of my thumb with my index finger nervously. “It’s Steven.” My voice turns fragile.

“Steven? What is it, Hales?” Her response is shaky and at my momentary silence she goes on. “Hales, you are freaking me out here. What happened?”

I fill her in as best I can.

“Is there anyone who can provide you with some sort of information?” she asks.

“No,” I sigh, in despair. All I can think in that moment is that I want to hear Daniel’s voice, but I cut off the thought before it evolves further into agony. We speak for a while till Tasha has to go. Before hanging up she offers to fly over to be with us.

“No need, Tash. I’ll be coming back in a day and a half.” My voice is weary.

~~~

When I share the news with Ian, his serious tone amplifies the way I feel. When I hear the worry in his voice I find myself unraveling.

“So how are we really doing, gorgeous?”

“Nothing that a combination of hard booze, yoga and heavy sedation won’t fix.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad to learn you’re uber fine.”

I snicker. “You know I’m just a phone call away, day or night,” he says as we hang up.

I stop myself before I dial the last digit of the number I so want to call and walk to the living room to join my parents.

We sit in silence, watching the repetitive news, even though they haven’t revealed anything in the past few hours. We sit glued to the screen drinking in each and every word, holding on to any piece of information that might give us hope. Same headlines, same images, same information about the ‘nine casualties in central Kabul today when a suicide bomber struck a vehicle in a military convoy’. The only elaboration is that of those killed in the attack, four were troops and five were civilians.

My eyes burn and my head aches. I’m nauseated, physically and emotionally drained.

“I’m heading to bed,” I say listlessly, finding the mere task of standing up challenging.

“Good night, Lely.” My parents’ soft voices blend into one. I hug both of them. Passing by the kitchen, I grab my phone before climbing upstairs to my childhood den.

~~~

Everything looks so familiar and yet so alien: the innocent lilac wallpaper that has slightly started to peel and fade at the left corner, the soft white, twin-sized bed still neatly covered by the lavender duvet decorated with feathery white clouds. With my mother’s preference for order my CDs and books are all in place. Only the fading shades and some stains on the cream rug in the center of the wooden floor reveal that it’s been a long while since the room was in its prime.

The teen I used to be is far from recognizable to the woman I’ve become. It feels as if a million years have passed since I last slept in this place, in this bed.