Page 57 of Insidious

The night was sleepless, but clarity has come at last, unwelcome and inescapable. I tried to unalive myself, and that has consequences. Therefore, I cannot leave Isaac until social services back off. I have to be smart because I cannot be apart from Amelie—a piece of my heart and a slice of my soul. Finally, I understand the violent connection mothers feel when they see their child, how they are willing to do what it takes. And if that means temporarily staying with Isaac, so be it. It feels great not to be wading through mental quicksand anymore.

***

Everyone comes to help with the bags, and there are lots of hugs and goodbyes. I have cards placed in my hands, details of who to contact, and mentions of a discharge summary being sent to my GP. Amelie is a good baby, sleeping through it all … so well-behaved that I would have begun to wonder if her hearing is alright if we hadn’t gotten it checked when she was born. Manon is here, but she keeps the chit-chat to the minimum, and for that, I am grateful.

There is no time to think as we try to stuff the million things a baby needs into the boot of the car and leave like a wedding procession of three cars. Lily has tried calling, but I can’t talk to her right now. I need to feel like not strangling my best friend is a good idea.

***

I am home, and everyone is busy putting things away. Then it’s time for dinner, and finally—finally—Mum is off to sleep in her guest bedroom after Papa went back to Bradford.

We face each other in the bedroom like gladiators in an arena.

The bed sits between us like a line drawn in chalk. I laugh inside at the irony because of course it would come to this: two people who once couldn’t keep their hands off each other, now standing on opposite sides of a mattress, like it’s no-man’s land.

It’s no different from a ceasefire.

“Luna …”

His voice sounds like it’s been dragged over gravel.

I don’t answer as I feel him hovering. Waiting.

But I have nothing left to give. The day has been too much, and now, I only want to take my magic pill and sleep.

“Can we—”

“So—”

Our words crash into each other, just like the way our lives have been going. Out of sync. I can’t bear the softness in his voice. Maybe because I am afraid he will convince me to change my mind.

I lift my head and look at him for the first time since … everything. Not through the corner of my eye or just a glance and away.

Isaac looks—

He looks like hell.

There’s a slump to his shoulders I’ve never seen before. My husband is always like a titan. Never hesitant …

Now, he looks like he’s folding in on himself.

His blue eyes meet mine.

And something in them—hope, maybe—flares for a second before it flickers and dies.

Because I know what he sees. There’s no love for him to find. No warmth, or even the exhausted, aching despair I used to carry around like a second skin.

Just … distance. And maybe hatred.

It feels like I’ve stepped back from my own life and I’m watching it happen to someone else.

“So,” I say again, because the silence is worse than anything else. “You don’t need to stay, you know.”

His brow furrows slightly.

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “Play the devoted husband. Mum’s going to be here. You don’t have to … stay here out of obligation.”