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“Where are they?” I ask Gavin, who stands by the entryway with his packed suitcase still in hand. He’s halfway through the door which means he’s just made the decision.
“I had your mother take him to her place for a few days.”
“Oh,” I say, wiping at my eyes with my fingers, “because you’re leaving me.”
His face contorts in pain. “Katy, I need some space. We need a break.”
“Space,” I say with a laugh. He gauges my reaction, but I’m done with this show. “Because there’s no shortage of that.”
“I’m so fucking mad. I don’t want to turn this house into a war zone.”
“I get it,” I say, pulling my suitcase away from the door and dropping it on the floor between us. “But tell me something. The truth. It doesn’t matter that I chose you, does it? It doesn’t matter that I love you more, or that I want this marriage to work. You don’t even believe me.” I shake my head as he stands speechless. “Jesus. Go get your break, Gavin.”
Tears are falling heavily between us. “I’ll be here if you ever decide you can love me again.”
“Katy—”
“Think I’ll go enjoy some lemonade on my porch swing.”
“Baby—”
“Just in case you’re wondering, I still love you,” I say before hauling ass through the back door, unable to bear the sight of him walking out on me. I slam it shut and take a seat on the swing just as the sun begins to set. After a minute I hear his truck start up and allow myself to absorb the loss of him as I continue swinging until I’m blissfully numb.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Katy
I’ve been to therapy every day this week, going at Dr. Schmidt’s pace. I’ve shared far more in the past five days than I have in the last four months. She considers it a breakthrough, but it just feels like ranting to me. I still feel the anger, the frustration, and I’m not sure how much farther we can possibly go discussing the same issues. But somewhere deep down, I feel a part of me starting to let it go as I exorcize some of the hurts. I’ll keep pushing myself for the greatest love of my life. For Noah. Because I want more than anything to be the mother he deserves. Once I’d managed to pull myself back together after Gavin left, I went to get my son. Noah had a thousand questions when we got home, and his father was nowhere in sight. I was able to pacify him for the first few days with a made-up business trip, but eventually, that lie got old. Our son is no dummy. But there was no way I was confessing anything more to him until Gavin and I had discussed it.
Gavin FaceTimed him every night, and there were a few times that Noah turned the screen, bringing us face to face. Those moments ripped me in two. Gavin’s eyes would fill, or mine would. We’d clear our throats and lead the conversation elsewhere, or I’d find an excuse to leave the room. We speak only about Noah, and it’s usually in the form of a text.
Noah is my focus. During the day, I spend all my energy on him, while at night I look into applying for the VBSN program to transition from an army medic to a registered nurse.
You’re a housewife.
“Eat shit, Briggs,” I mutter under my breath. I know the comment was meant to sting, and I’d asked for it. But it struck deep. A career outside of the home was always my plan before I got knocked off course. Giving up my dreams means letting them win, and I won’t let that be my legacy.
“Who’s Briggs?” Noah asks from the kitchen table, where he’s doing his homework.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” I curse my stupidity. It’s the first time I’ve said his name in our home. Guilt threatens, but I push it away as Dr. Schmidt’s words from earlier today filter in.
“Statistically, do you know where you are sitting?”
“What?”
“I’m going to trade my hat for a minute. It’s not exactly ethical, but I feel like it’s necessary. I just want your permission to speak freely.”
I nod.
“You’re blaming yourself for having limits. You’re so ready for everything to go back to the way it was. Do you have any idea how many veterans don’t make it as far as you have?”
“I’m aware.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think you are. One in five gets diagnosed with PTSD.”
I nod. I know that.
“One in five, Katy. Do you know how many American soldiers there are?”
“Not sure.”
“A million point three. I looked it up last night, and that’s just the army.”
I sit there, stunned, as she goes on. One in five. One in five.
“Right now, two hundred thousand are homeless. Some can’t adapt back into their old lives. Some never even make it home after they get off the bus.”
I stew on her words. I know this is to give me a point of reference for my own progress, but my empathy is winning, and my heart is breaking.
She looks at me pointedly. “Twenty-two soldiers kill themselves every single day.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as she gives me sympathetic eyes. At my lowest, for the briefest of moments, I wished I’d never made it out of that bunker. But even in my most desperate times, I could never have taken my own life. It makes me realize I’m not alone, and things could be worse.
She sets her notepad on the table in front of me and clasps her hands between designer slacks. “You see weakness in your inability to adapt fast enough, in your inability to choose what path to take, but the fact that you get up every day determined to resume your life is enough. I’m telling you, it is enough. Right here, right now, the steps you’re taking, it’s enough and…” She pauses. “I admire your strength.”
I remain quiet, allowing her words to sink in.
“I want you to remember on bad days that you’ve come very far in little time.”
Briggs’s words from Germany come back to me: They failed. You need to remember that on bad days.
“Mom-my,” Noah scorns, “Who is Briggs, and why are you telling him to eat poop?”
I stop my knife on the cutting board, taking a seat across from him.
“He’s Mommy’s friend from Baghdad.”
“Like Mullins?”
“Yes,” I say. “Like Mullins.”
He wrinkles his nose in concentration. “I wish she came home too.”
We haven’t discussed her since I’ve been back. I’m assuming Gavin hasn’t said anything about her passing.
As I stare at my little boy, I can’t bring myself to break his heart. Steps have to be taken, before leaps and bounds, and I’ve taken enough for one day.
“Me too, buddy. I miss her so much.”
“Grandma says at Disney we can go on all the rides.” His eyes get big. I’m thankful for his inability to keep to one topic for very long.
“I know you’re excited, baby. That was so nice of them.”
I dread the quiet of the house when spring break hits. It’s just a few weeks away. All I have to look forward to is spending time with Noah, and with Gavin gone, the nights seem longer. I miss his quiet strength, his encouragement. I miss having him here.
And I was such a bitch.
Guilt wracks me, and I stand and turn back toward the kitchen, wiping a lone tear away. I pick up my phone and shoot off a text to my husband. It’s been five days, and I came home with the intention of fixing my marriage. It’s time for me to prove it.
Me: Remember that time we were at the laundromat packing up, and I reached out of your truck from the seat to pick up a hanger I had dropped, and fell out? I thought of that today. You laughed so hard, you had tears pouring down your face. It’s one of my favorite “us” moments, as insignificant as it may be to you. I love you.
The message gets read immediately, and then the dots start. For minutes they bounce up and down before they stop.
He’s still angry.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Katy
Ripping up the carpet, I see a shitload of tiny nails and holler for Noah. He comes barreling into the room.
“Yeah?”
“Baby, stay out of Daddy’s office until I’m done, okay? See these nails?”
