WISHBONE (5 page)

Rachael looked down at him. “All done,” she said, extending a hand to help him up.  They were both weak from stress and not eating well; sedentary for way too long.

Julien accepted her hand, but hoisted himself up on his own merit, stretching out his stiff, crackling joints.

As if expecting to find a bed of nails, he looked down at the spot where he was sitting.

Maybe a pillow next time.
 

Julien walked away from the alcove. “Are you ready for bed?” he asked, forcing a chipper tone.

Rachael nodded but remained in the bathroom doorway waiting for her husband to perform the mandatory rituals. She knew how ridiculous it was, but her internal demons demanded the routine nonetheless.

Julien opened the closet and turned on the light above. Walking all the way in, he shifted clothes back and forth, allowing the hangers to noisily scrape the wood so she would know he was being thorough. He closed the closet and went to the locked window giving it a push upward. She watched his every move. The window refused to budge. He pressing his forehead to the cold glass for a thorough view of the balcony.  

“We’re good.” He sat down on his side of the unmade bed. “C’mon, get some sleep. We have a big drive again tomorrow.”

“You’re sure you locked the front door, right?” She stood waiting for his response.

“Yes, you watched me…twice. Now c’mon. We have to wake early for the trip.”

The thought of being forced to venture out of the apartment for another long ride Upstate was enough to start Rachael’s heart pounding again. They made three trips in the last month to various destinations up North and she wasn’t sure she could withstand another. Getting away from the apartment should have been a comfort, yet she feared leaving its confines. Her thoughts were no longer rational; her mind would say one thing and her anxiety another. At times, she would try to reason with herself, knowing that most of her fears were unfounded, but regardless, her rational mind no longer had any say. 

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she opened the top drawer of the nightstand, took a sip of water and consumed a Zoloft/Xanax cocktail with one swallow. Situating herself beneath the covers, she curled into the fetal position, her back to Julien. She thought about him lying silently behind her and wondered what might be going through his mind.

Julien immediately recognized his wife’s turned back as a bad sign, and he knew all too well what was soon to follow, but he tried to remain optimistic. He turned off the bedside lamp; the room remained bathed in a dim glow, illuminated by two nightlights on either side of the room. He placed a pillow over his head to block out the light but within seconds Rachael’s soft voice interrupted his solitude. 

“Why do you stay, Jules?” she asked.

Aye, here we go…

If he played his cards right, he might be able to satisfy her quickly and they would both be allowed some much-needed rest. If he pretended to be asleep and chose to ignore her, there would be no rest for either of them. He rolled over to face her back.

“Why would I leave? Everything is okay, Rachael. Just go to sleep.” Forgetfully, he reached out to touch his wife’s shoulder. 

Rachael’s startle-response, hair-trigger since the attack, she nearly lept from the bed beneath the brush of his fingertips. 

Julien pulled his hand back quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I should have warned you”

“If you want to go alone tomorrow…so you can have some time to yourself…”

“I don’t want to go alone,” he insisted. 

Even if
I wanted to, I wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

  The last time he tried to leave Rachael’s side was the day he planned to clean out his office at the firm. Lily arrived to spend the day and keep Rachael company. Julien had only travelled as far as one train stop when his phone rang; Rachael was in a rapid manic spiral. She quickly launched threats at Lily and accused her of not locking the door properly; not taking her seriously. Lily tried to calm and reassure her friend, but the situation escalated and she realized she was in over her head. Lily had dialed Julien, pleading for him to return home immediately; Julien exited the train at the next platform and hopped a cab back. The moment he entered the apartment, Rachael turned her accusations on him. The scene rapidly grew out of control and he feared they would have to call for an ambulance this time. It had taken more than an hour and a hefty dose of Valium to reason with Rachael and lull her to sleep. When he eventually slipped from the room, he found Lily waiting in the foyer. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. She went to Julien, giving him a long hug then backed away.

“I want to help, Julien…,” she said.

But…

He knew it was coming; he could see it in her eyes. Lily was trembling with anxiety now.

She began gathering her things. “I just can’t do this. I have my own shit to deal with ya know…and seeing her like this…it’s just too much.” 

 Julien felt immediately that it would be the last time they heard from Lily for a long while. He had been right.

 Rachael had no one to rely on but Julien. Her father had passed away some years earlier, her brother killed at the age of nineteen serving in Desert Storm, and her mother, slowly deteriorating from Alzheimer’s, miles away in a New Jersey nursing home. Julien was solely responsible for Rachael’s care. Something he had never thought twice about prior to her illness.

He lay in the bedroom now listening to Rachael cry. “Rach, I’m going to touch you, okay?” He said, then ran a fingertip gently down her spine. Her sensual curves and feminine figure seemed to be dwindling before his eyes.

“Please Rach, don’t do this tonight. Everything is okay.” He offered her the usual reassurances.

Rachael found no solace in his words. “You can’t live this way…with what I’m putting you through.”

Julien closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. He began chewing a hangnail on his thumb, digging his teeth deep into the fold between nail and flesh; he felt nothing.

Did she miss a dose of medication today?

 
His mind was unclear, the days, each blending with the next. He could not recall the last time he saw her take the medication before moments ago.

He sat up and lit a smoke from a pack he rummaged out of the nightstand. Looking out into the navy-blue sky, he watched the slow, flashing, light of an airplane far in the distance, high above Manhattan.

Rachael, now propped up on one elbow, glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Don’t be mad,” she pleaded. 

Before Julien could muster the energy to patiently reassure her again, in an instant, she flipped from one extreme to the next.

Her tone intensified. “I want you to go make a new life for yourself with someone else. Someone who won’t make you sit outside bathrooms…someone normal.”

Julien knew she was afraid of just that; that he would leave her. He took a long drag off his smoke as the plane disappeared from view.

Rachael was relentless. “You hate being here,” she insisted, “and you hate me.”

Julien got to his feet, experienced enough to know what would be next. “C’mon Rach, let’s get up.” He dropped his cigarette into a water glass.

“Just pack your shit and go…I’m serious.” She grabbed a book off the nightstand and threw it at him, missing his face by an inch. 

He was surprised when a laugh escaped him. He wiped away a smile. Luckily, she had not noticed.

 “I’ll go make you some tea.” He threatened to walk away from her; leave her alone in the bedroom.

“I’m trying to help you Julien, and you’re too fucking stupid to see it. You don’t want to live like this. You think about it every day…you know you do.”

Her voice lowered again and she shrugged, staring into the distance, “I don’t blame you.  Who would want to live like this?” She spoke in his defense.

Here it is coming.

He stood at the foot of their bed staring at the open book now face-down in the carpet; he fended off her words silently.

She will either start to cry or beg me to stay.

Nothing I say now will help.

Just take the ride.

Ride the roller coaster…again.

Rachael sat up. “Look what I’m doing to you. You look like shit, Julien.” She said matter-of-factly. Her eyes darted toward the door then back at him.

Ah, she’s worried I will walk away. 

This is good, no?

“Let’s go make some tea. The medication will kick in and you will start to feel better.” He moved closer to her.

“The medication…is that all you think about now? Praying that the pills kick in and I go to sleep? Oh that’s right…you don’t pray.” She smirked. “Let’s keep her in some fucked up coma, fucked up on pills. Maybe you
should
pray!” Her emotions oscillating, “Keep her fucking loaded and she’ll shut the fuck up, right?” Rachael opened the drawer and grabbed the bottle of Xanax.

“Here,” she said, rushing to get the bottle open. “I’ll take some more. That way I’ll shut the fuck up for you.”

Julien’s blood began to boil.

Okay, that’s it… 

He lunged toward her, dropping at her knees and grabbing for the bottle in her grasp.

“Enough!” Julien snapped; pills spilled and scattering around her feet. 

Caught completely off guard, Rachael’s hand came up across his face, slapping him with every ounce of her strength. 

She froze then gasped and recoiled as if awaiting retaliation. She stared at him, her eyes wide as saucers, shaking her head slowly in disbelief.

Don’t react.

Julien, motionless, his eyes closed tight, his jaw clenched, he fought every ounce of his soul to keep from raising his hand. He drew a long breath through his nose, exhaled, and began collecting the pills methodically; one by one, he replaced them into the plastic bottle.

“Oh, Julien…” Rachael scooted forward on the bed. She tried to take his face into her hands. He ignored her, leaning out of her reach, and continuing to collect the pills.

“I’m so sorry, Jules. I’m so sorry.” She was sobbing now.

Stop crying…just stop the crying.

I need a fucking Xanax!

It’s not her fault. She didn’t mean it. 

He reached under the bed for the last visible pill. “It’s okay. Let me clean this up and we’ll go make some tea.” At times, he was amazed by his own ability to cope and recover.

“I didn’t mean it.” She whispered, staring at the blazing red handprint on the left side of his face. She shook her head slowly. “What have I done?”

You slapped the shit out of me; that’s what you did.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Julien’s father passed briefly through his thoughts.

She repeated herself several times, “What have I done? What have I done?”

  Julien thought he had ultimately won control over his emotions, but his psyche found its breaking point. His eyes shot upward, locking on hers.

“No! What have
I
done?” He slammed his chest with a clenched fist, fighting for his own emotional well-being now. “What the fuck I am supposed to do, Rachael? What do I do?” His accent began to garble his words along with his crumbling emotions.

She flinched and Julien slammed the pill bottle back into the drawer and got to his feet.

He was more upset over having lost his cool than anything Rachael had done. He turned away from her, pacing at the foot of the bed and tugging at on his hair in frustration.

It’s not her fault. 

Don’t do this.

It’s not her fault.

Let it go.

He turned back to her again. She was rocking now, mumbling to herself. Rachael’s roller coaster was taking its final tour of the night; he was sure the ride would end soon.

He sat down beside his sobbing wife; her face buried in her hands.

She whispered, “It’s not fair to you. You can’t live like this.” The argument had come full circle.

“
I’m not leaving you, Rachael. We’ll get through this. It is not your fault.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “If the police would do their job, they would catch the piece of shit that did this to you…to us! Maybe then our life could go back to normal.” He rocked her until he felt her body relax. 

They can’t even tell us how the bastard got in.

They’re never going to find him.

He talked her through his plan again as he had on so many nights. “I promise you,” he offered, “when we move away from the city, everything will be better.” He positioned her back against the pillow. Her eyes were beginning to glaze over as the medication took effect. “Our country life will be peaceful and safe. We’re going to get through this. I promise.” 

By morning she won’t even remember what happened tonight.

 He brought the blankets up over her body. He caressed her cheek then pushed the hair away from her eyes.

He whispered, “I will die an old man sitting on hallway floors if that is what it takes.  Nothing could make me abandon you, Rachael.” 

In a last ditch attempt, Rachael said groggily, “I just wanted you to know I would understand if you did want to leave.”

“Shhh
…” Julien took her hand and kissed her palm. The faint smell of vanilla lotion calmed him. Seconds later, she was asleep.

Quietly, he left their room. She had no idea that he sometimes left her at night, either to house hunt on the computer, or to stand out on the balcony in the cold, invigorating night air, overlooking the lights and chaos of Manhattan, which, in contrast to what their lives had become, offered him peace.

He stepped outside tonight and lit another cigarette. He rubbed at his cheek where her slap had caught him. He was desperate for the old Rachael. He wanted to return to work. He wanted some semblance of normalcy in their lives. It had been three very long months.

CHAPTER FIVE