Phantom Heartstrings Page 2
I sit in the chair next to the bed and take out the current People magazine. This is not the time to press my luck. Right now, I’ll wait him out. I’ll give him until she wakes up and he knows she’s okay, then he’s leaving.
Chapter 2
Drake
Nine weeks, I’ve been walking on eggshells. Sixty three days she’s been hurting. I see it in her eyes. It hurts me to watch her look away and find stupid damn tasks to fill her attention to distract her from what’s happening in her head.
She won’t talk about it to anyone. She’s kept it from our family, from our friends, hell… she won’t talk to me and I was in the damn room when our world turned upside down after the news from the doctor.
I was the one left sitting in an empty room when doctors and nurses rushed in after a few tests and took her away for emergency surgery. I was the one on my knees praying after the doctor told me the procedure and what we were dealing with. It was me the doctor told the possible risks and complications. While she was sedated, I was the one left to question how I could possibly survive if something happened to my wife in that operating room. And after the surgery was over it was me the doctor found to deliver the news.
Nine weeks isn’t long enough to get past what we lost, but for fuck’s sake, I see the pain every time I look at her. How can I not? She’s been my world for fourteen years. For every minute of those fourteen years, I was the one she ran to when her world wasn’t okay and it was always me she wanted to make it better. And here we are, dancing around the loss of our child pretending our world isn’t crumbling. I would take every bit of her pain if I could.
I would do anything for her to not pretend everything is okay, but if pretending that life goes on as normal is what she wants, that’s what I’ll do. I’m just not sure it’s going to make things better but it’s not like she’s given me any options. I can’t ask anyone for advice. No one fucking knew what was happening and I’m not sure she’d ever forgive me telling anyone, even if it’s just for advice on how to help her.
I check my phone again to see if by chance I missed a call or text notification and nope. Nothing. Zero. I want her to know I’m thinking about her, but I also don’t want her to think I’m checking up on her because I want her to come home and resume household obligations. This dancing on shards of eggshells is really starting to get to me.
Patience and tolerance has always come easy to me where my wife and children were concerned. Even though I’ve been called more names than I care to remember, I’d move heaven and hell to make that girl happy. I’d sacrifice my own happiness a million times over to please her. Not because I’m a pussy but because seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, watching her dance, tell stories to my kids, hell… just sit on the couch in my t-shirt is what drives me.
She’s what makes me a better man, what makes me work harder, want to be an amazing dad, better friend, whatever. She’s my driving vice and after fourteen years of always knowing what to do to help her or make things better, I’m lost. I’m so lost that I fear I’m lost from her, that I’ve lost her heart.
My frustration is at its boiling point and I tell myself to simmer down before I pick up the phone to send her a message that I can only hope she’ll care enough to read.
Me: How’s it going? Whit ok? Just wanted to tell you that the kids are all tucked in and sleeping soundly.
When my phone chimes it’s received response, my heartbeat picks up. That’s a good sign, I think.
Cami: She’s ok. We’re watching a movie. I think she’ll be released tomorrow. Glad the kids are sleeping. I’ll check on them when I get home. No need to wait up for me. I’ll be late.
Ha. Frustration creeping back into me. Don’t wait up! That’s what she wanted to say. Don’t fucking be around for me to have to look into your eyes and be reminded of what I lost. Don’t talk to me because I’m afraid you’ll bring it up again and remind me!
Me...I’m the problem for her. Nothing could ever hurt more than that.
Me: Cams, I’ll always wait up for you.
And with that I get no response. Worse than that, I knew I wouldn’t. I need a new plan. I’ve got to get this shit figured out. I’ve got to get her to talk, if not to me, then someone.
I know her better than anyone. I think I always thought that I’d be able to fix any of her issues because somehow, I thought I always had. I got cocky. I lost sight of the fact that something, someday may be out of my reach of repair for Cams and I’d have to ask someone else for help.
Every male instinct inside of me wants to toss her over my shoulder and take her to the bedroom and fuck this out of her. Make her remember our connections. Those same instincts are the only reason we are so far apart right now is because she hasn’t felt me between her legs in sixty three damn days. Our connection is broken because I can’t touch her without her wincing. I can’t hold her without her pulling away.
I toss my phone on the opposite couch. Reaching for my beer, I take a large gulp feeling absolutely fucking clueless how to fix this for my wife. I don’t know who to call or even if I should. Maybe this is normal. I wouldn’t know since I’m not a damn chick and this hasn’t ever happened to us.
“Fuuucccck!” I say loudly into the empty room as the throw pillow on the couch that my wife loves, and claims makes the room feel warmer. When it flies out of my hand and hits the fireplace mantle it narrowly misses the family photo of the six of us taken last year.
Chapter 3
Cami
She still doesn’t move to open her eyes or speak but I feel another gentle squeeze letting me know she hears me. She’s not talking much about what happened and I know that has more to do with there being too many people in this room, and her not feeling safe enough to let her emotions show. Now that we’re finally alone, I know it’s coming. I know she’s going to talk eventually and tell me what happened; but I also know pushing her to tell me will not help. She’ll tell me when she wants and I’ll be right here waiting for that moment.
We know the facts of what happened. What we don’t know is what drove her to that gym with a tear stained face. We don’t know what emotions she desperately needed to work out, and why she was feeling that way to begin with.
Even Jon is unsure what’s happened and has a black cloud of guilt haunting him for not being there to help. He was here in this very hospital that they’ve all seen far too often in the past couple months, first, with Jon’s accident and then with a friend of his and now with our Whit.
He was less than pleased when I kindly demanded he go home for the rest of the day. He needed sleep and most importantly, I needed time with Whit alone for the very reason that’s happening now. For her to feel safe enough to let go knowing I would one, keep her secrets and two, love her through this in the only way that we best friends know how.
“I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it, you know.”
I gently remind her.
She nods her head barely. If you blinked you would have missed it and shakily whispered a response.
“I do know, Cams. I always know. Please give me some time. I just can’t yet.”
And with that, I have no argument. I’ll give her time. I’ll give her anything she needs even though time is the hardest of all. I just want to help. It’s killing me to know something is hurting her and I’d do anything to figure it out. I want to be strong enough that she feels she could break down a little. That I could talk her through this but like she said, she’s not ready and needs time, so time I’ll give.
“Want to watch a movie? I brought my laptop.” I ask, hopeful that will help her get out of her head and focus on something else.
She nods her acceptance and I let go to retrieve my laptop and slide the chair next to the bed but she releases the lever lowering the handle on the bed.
“Come lay next to me. There’s enough room for both of us.” She says, scooting over and leaving plenty of room for me.
I climb in bed with her and open my iTunes mov
ie folder and let her pick the movie of the night, and it doesn’t shock me when she selects Sweet Home Alabama. It’s our favorite. We laugh and giggle our way through Reece Witherspoon’s sassy humor and I think to myself how similarly Whitney’s personality matches Melanie’s and how lucky we all are to have her comic relief in real life most times. I find myself silently hoping this movie will awaken that in her so we can have our very own Melanie back into our little world. I could use it in my life right about now.
My phone chimes with a text and I feel sure it’s Alexis telling me she’s on the way, but when I look at my phone and see the words ‘Hubby’ my heart falls to my stomach.
Drake: How’s it going? Whit ok? Just wanted to tell you that the kids are all tucked in and sleeping soundly.
I’m relieved to see his text is somewhat normal. I really was unsure with how things ended when I left, if he even cares if I checked in.
Me: She’s ok. We’re watching a movie. I think she’ll be released tomorrow. Glad the kids are sleeping. I’ll check on them when I get home. No need to wait up for me. I’ll be late.
I’m sure he just wanted permission not to have to be around when I get home. The least I can do is absolve him of his duty of waiting up for his wife since he sacrificed his evening with his friends to ‘babysit’ his children. Ugh…
Me: Cams, I’ll always wait up for you.
Well shit. What is happening? I don’t know how to respond to that.
***
It feels later than it actually is when Alexis comes back for her evening visit while we are finishing the movie. I know that I’ll need to leave soon to make it home to my family and as much as my little escape from home was a nice break. I want to be home, but I’m scared. The wanted separation I was feeling only hours ago is now clouded by the anxiety of wanting the comfort of even, at the very least, lying next to my husband while he sleeps, and my children sleep down the hall. I’m not good with change. I like being close to the people that complete my world.
The thought of Drake ever being comfortable without me is torture even though it’s likely not far from the truth right now, but I try to convince myself that maybe this is a phase and we’ll get past it. I mean, fourteen years is not something that just happens because people get acclimated and don’t like change, right?
The part of me that doesn’t want that answer shakes it off and tries to engage in the conversation that Whitney and Alexis are having about the schedule of the next couple days after her release tomorrow. But the other part of me knows the issues are deeper and if we don’t actually acknowledge them we’re going to have far greater issues I fear. But how? Confrontation isn’t our thing, obviously. But worse than that, conversation about anything less than emotionally superficial isn’t either anymore.
He was my person. I had Whitney, Alexis and Kelsey to talk to about girl things and when I needed a break. But if I ever had a real problem, the only person that had the capability to right my sails was Drake. Almost from the moment I met him, I could see right through his badass jock persona to a man that had a heart of gold and, that heart that I wanted to win.
“Ahhhmmmm… Earth to Cami.” I look up jumping out of the thoughts happening in my head. “Are you even listening to us?” Alexis is asking, clearly now very curious and clued into my unintentional distraction.
“Oh… sorry. I guess when you started talking schedules my mom brain clicked in and I started going through the kids schedules this week too.” I lie with a small apologetic smile on my face.
Alexis accepts my lie easily and carries on taking control of Whitney’s schedule, consulting her agenda and writing fiercely, assigning responsibilities and duties to help Whit this week. However, when I glance at Whit to see how she’s taking the fact that Alexis is taking complete control of her life without even bothering to ask, she’s not annoyed as I expect. She’s looking at me with narrowing eyes and lips set in a fine line. She’s reading me. The patient has now taken over the asylum. Shit. I smile. No response. I ignore her and continue to talk to Whit and accept my responsibilities for the week, but in the pit of my stomach, I know that Whit has somehow climbed into my thoughts and is suspecting something is off with me. Well... you know what she says, Fake it, Until You Make It so I pull on big girl panties and do just that.
Whitney’s parents are reluctantly going back home and leaving her in our care since her wounds are mostly healed. I think we are all skating around the truth that her wounds are far deeper than skin deep, but no one will talk about that right now. We know it will take time before any real healing can begin and we have to get her to talk and tell us what happened. Soon, that time will come. I can be patient for only so long.
Whitney’s mom is spending the last night in the hospital with her and when she walks into the room with a tray of Starbucks Frappuccino’s and a big smile on her face telling us it’s time to celebrate Whit’s last night in this hell hole, we all laugh. Even though I don’t typically drink Frappuccino’s, I know I can’t refuse it when I see the smile across Whitney’s face and her soft laugh. That’s worth its weight in gold.
As we sit chatting about all the latest celebrity gossip and sipping our calorie laden drinks with an excess of chocolate syrup and whipped cream, everything feels normal with the exception of our location, but even we can look past that for a minute. The only person missing from this little party is our other quarter of this little posse Kelsey. She’s dating a Tampa Bay Ray’s player and she flew out to Boston to surprise him and watch him play a few days ago. I think she wanted to immediately come home when she got the news but we’ve encouraged her to stay and promised regular updates. I think things are getting more serious between them and that has been exciting to watch. She’ll be home late tonight and I know she’ll be running these halls to get to Whit tomorrow morning.
We are all scouring the large collection of celebrity gossip magazines that Whit’s mom has collected for her in case she got bored. I’m looking for a good story to make us laugh but before I find something, Whit tells us about an older celebrity that passed away and her mom looks a little sad when she replies,
“Awww, that’s so sad. She was a tremendous actress. I used to watch her on my soaps all the time.” And I see the sparkle in her eyes as tears form.
Without skipping a beat, Whitney responds in her sarcastic yet brutally honest approach.
“I thought she was dead like ten years ago. Are you seriously going to cry?” Looking at her mom with a smirk before quickly moving on to the next story without acknowledging the sad moment anymore.
I can’t help but laugh and Alexis being the other outspoken one of our group, glares at Whit as she looks to Whit’s mom asking, “Catherine, by any chance have you ever had Whit’s tear ducts checked? I feel confident she was born without them or at the very least without a heart?”
This brings on fits of laughter from the group and since it’s late on the hospital floor, it also earns us a visit from the nurse telling us we need to keep it down and that Whitney needs her rest so we should wrap up our little goodbye party.
I don’t really want to leave the girls anymore even though it wasn’t too many minutes ago that I was craving the closeness of my own family. But finally, for the first time in several weeks, the distractions of my best friends have been not only welcomed, but refreshing. The rollercoaster of emotions and wishy-washy feelings of whether I want to be home or not is a whole different issue.
The reality of my situation was far from my mind at any point today but given the topics of conversations and being busy caring for Whit, it didn’t feel like my entire life was spinning out of control. This part of my life feels secure, even with the guilt of knowing they don’t know all that I’ve lost, and that I have been keeping this heartbreak from them. I know they wouldn’t understand now. Too much time has passed and I can’t bear hurting anyone else, especially not with something like this that they would have wanted to know and be supportive. They will have questions. Que
stions, I understand. Questions, I’m not capable of answering. Questions that would show my flaws and cut straight to my heart. And more importantly, Whitney is in need of love and attention. I convince myself that my issues are not important at this point. Hoping that information will relieve some of the guilt I feel for keeping it from them.
I give Whit a gentle hug and remind her that I’ll be back in the morning after I get the kids off to school to spend time with her before she’s released. She’ll be staying with Alexis for a few days. Normally, I’d demand that she stay with me but this time I didn’t put up much of a fight knowing that tensions are a little high in my house right now.
It’s late and knowing that my children are all sound asleep and unsure if Drake actually meant what he said about waiting up for me, leaves a ball of anxiousness in my stomach. I’m not sure I’m actually up for the task of dancing around his disappointed glances and aloofness.
Drake is a man that is accustomed to the perfections and accolades we’ve received on the appearance of our family. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of the family and the home that we’ve built. We’ve both worked hard and our children, although crazy at times, are lovely and very well mannered. We’ve had our struggles but we’ve always handled them privately and in the scheme of things they have been all minor.
Everyone has always thought and said how lucky we are to have this perfect life. Perfect marriage. Perfect children. Perfect house. Perfect job. Perfect EVERYTHING. I can’t tell you the times he and I have heard it from our friends and family. It’s almost like we’ve been living in this glass house with everyone outside watching, waiting for the walls to start crumbling.
I’ve often felt it was my duty to keep up appearances. To always look my best. To show the world my happy face. To smile even when I feel like I just want to climb into bed and forget a day ever occurred. To pretend that I want to actually go to all the school party days for my children, instead of staying home in my jammies and reading all day. To accept all the compliments and ignore the jealous stares at Drake’s corporate functions even though I want to scream that behind every great business man, is a wife who likely does everything!