mine {h.s.} | {b3}

CHAPTER TWENTY

— CHAPTER TWENTY —

december, year two.

Christmas is two days away and tensions are still running high.

Our Christmas party is tomorrow. For all intents and purposes, our Christmas spirit should be at a high. All of our decorating is done and Harry and I have done all of our shopping for Edie. The issue falls in our communication. Communication is still at a low between us in regards to everything but our daughter. With her, we are still highly communicative and effective in what we are saying. There's a sort of fear between both of us about what happens when we lose that dialogue. Our entire parenting style has always been about being better than our parents. This is something that is hard to do when we find ourselves falling down the same paths that our parents did. It all starts with losing that primary sense of communication.

I know that the strain is centric around Will. Worse, I know that Will is still around. Things are worse than they were before, but I can't prove anything concretely. He's getting riskier and it's making me feel like I'm losing my mind. Sometimes I walk back into the house after a long shift and I swear that my laptop is in a slightly different position than I left it. But, I can't prove anything. Not when I have three adult roommates and a child living with us that could account for anything that moves, if even slightly. Not when half of the time I am convincing myself that I'm making this up. That I just want some sort of proof that Will is still around so that I can blame that as the reason that I am still thinking about him. Not because of Harry's accusation that I still love him. Not because I find myself thinking it over every chance I get.

Though there is no proof, I just know that Will has to still be around. He's growing more daring. In response, I find myself growing meeker. I'm afraid to speak my mind. I'm afraid to talk, to tell anyone what I think is happening.

Accordingly, everyone around me is oblivious. Either they don't notice what is happening, or they don't want to. They don't know to be looking for it. They're not hyperactive in the way that I am. Unlike me, all the residents of our house—Harry, Ruth, and Fitzy—don't know how severe Will's determination is. They don't know that he won't quit until he is satisfied. Bitterly, I know that he won't stop until we surrender, making me think about the tattoo on my husband's arm. Once, it might have made me smile. Now, it just makes my stomach coil.

My silence remains such because of my fear. They're woven together so tightly, I can't tell them apart anymore. After Harry's reaction to me saying that I would call Will, I knew that it would be best to limit all conversation about Will. Monitoring quickly became omission. Things are tense as it is. I know that he's waiting for an apology and I am waiting to be able to give him one. I don't know how to apologize for something that is still going on. The second part of that is that I don't know when it will be over. Every day seems like another nightmare building on itself.

All of this comes at a great personal cost. As the only person looking for Will—the only person who knows to be looking for Will, I start second guessing everything. Now, I'm at the point of mania. Every time I walk into a room, I give it a once over. I make sure that he isn't in it. Every time that I hear an unexpected sound, I pause until I can identify the source. Insanity is this and it's all my doing. I made my choice when I shut Harry out. Or maybe he made the choice when he refused to shove himself in. Neither of us is free of blame. For the first time, we are realizing that we might not be the best communicators in the world.

Dark clings to the night sky as I exit the hospital. My feet sludge along the entryway to the hospital, waiting for Fitzy to walk me to my car. I'm afraid of being alone these days. I don't speak about these fears aloud, but everyone knows that they're there. All of my friends have noticed that I refuse to be in the house alone, especially with Edie there. My heart seizes being in that house without protection when Edie and/or Zana is around. Similarly, I refuse to walk out of the hospital alone. Now more than ever I'm aware of how vulnerable I am after a long shift, walking out alone in the dark.