by E. J. Noyes
He took it, turning it over. “I think you’ve given me a wonderful overview, Rebecca. Thank you so much for being so candid.”
“I’m pleased to have helped,” I said, meaning it.
Vanessa returned and escorted me outside. We exchanged goodbyes with her son and began to make our way back toward the hospital. Vanessa looked up, buttoning her overcoat. “Goodness I hope we have early snow this year.”
“Me too. I am definitely a winter person.” As was Sabine who loved to pull on a jacket, scarf and her Ugg boots to sit on the deck with coffee and a book while snow fell on our backyard.
“Oh? So how did you cope working in the desert heat?”
“Not very well.” I laughed. “But most of our time is indoors, so it’s semi-bearable.” I caught myself. “Was indoors.”
We crossed the road and continued toward the hospital’s staff parking lot. An ambulance was pulling away and we stopped to let it pass. Once we’d started walking again, Vanessa said, “I’d like to hear more about your time in the Army. More stories as opposed to dry facts and statistics.”
I smiled up at her. “Well, I have a number of stories.” Some of which I would never tell. Could never. I unlocked my car and set my handbag on the passenger seat.
“How about dinner in the next few weeks?”
Something felt odd and it was on the tip of my tongue to say something about Sabine, to remind Vanessa about my partner. That I have a partner. A partner I loved and was still very much in love with. Instead, I thought about my presumption that her invite was anything more than just friendly, and the possibility of conversation removed from my current home situation. Conversation that wasn’t fraught and what often felt futile, trying to get Sabine to open up to me. Conversation I didn’t need to moderate. I sometimes thought trying to moderate myself was pointless, because by nature Sabine was prone to take any discussion of her mental health as evidence of her being less than perfect.
So I nodded, and agreed, “Sure. I’d like that.”
“Wonderful.” Vanessa gently squeezed my arm. “Thank you, Rebecca. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to talk to Nick. And I certainly learned something too.”
“It was my pleasure.” I paused. “What about your…husband? Does he have an opinion on Nicholas joining the military?”
“My ex-husband doesn’t care about much except spending what he got in the divorce settlement and telling our son that my bisexuality is the reason we split. Thankfully Nick is smart enough to realize the truth is I simply wanted to divorce a cheating, emotionally abusive alcoholic.”
My cheeks heated. “Ah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
Vanessa laughed, reaching to grasp my forearm. “You didn’t.”
“All right then. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“You’re welcome, and I had a great time.” After gently squeezing my arm, she closed the door for me, waved through the window and waited until I’d driven off. I made it home before ten and hadn’t even closed the door before Titus sprinted from out of nowhere, howling insistently at me.
“No way, buddy. I know your mom’s fed you.” Probably more than once, knowing Sabine. He wound around my legs, still making hopeful sounds, while I walked into the kitchen and set my bags and coat down. When I didn’t feed him, he walked away with his tail aloft, in that cat version of screw you I’d come to know well.
I murmured to nobody, “Speaking of, where is your mom?” Her car was in the garage but most of the lights in the house were off, with the exception of the kitchen and upstairs hallway. I plugged my phone in to charge. “Sabine?” There was no answer.
It was too early for her to be in bed. Wandering through the lower level, I checked the gym room and office without success. In the dark den, the streetlights illuminated a blanket-covered lump stretched out on the couch. “Sweetheart?”
The lump shifted and then sat up quickly. “Hey,” she mumbled. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten.” I flicked on the light, immediately twisting the knob to dim it for her just-woken eyes.
Sabine stretched, groaning. “How lame. I can’t believe I fell asleep on the couch.” Blinking, she studied me and let out a low whistle, a grin lifting the edges of her mouth. “You haven’t worn that dress in a while. God you look totally fuckable.”
“Mmm, thank you.” Bending down, I kissed her lightly in greeting. I couldn’t help myself and leaned in for another longer, firmer kiss. My tongue traced lightly over her lower lip, tasting her vanilla lip balm. I could have easily taken her suggestive comment and run with it, but Sabine ended the kiss, pulling back to drop a soft peck on the tip of my nose. I settled on the arm of the couch, stretching down to pull my heels off. “How was work? Did you have any surgical cases? Did you see Andrew today?” Aware I was pushing, I left it at those three questions.
“Work was work, just one, and yeah I did.” She pushed a hand through her dark hair, leaving it even more disheveled. “He suggested I try yoga because it’s relaxation but with some sort of structure.” She made air quotes.
“Yoga,” I repeated, trying to conjure the mental image of Sabine, who could barely sit still watching a movie, doing yoga.
“Mhmm. I might take a look next week.” Sabine frowned, her mouth twisting the way it always did when she was gnawing the inside of her cheek. I knew the expression and exactly what it meant—she was thinking, and she was worried. After a long pause, she admitted, “I feel a bit weird about learning something new.” Her unspoken what if I’m no good at it hung between us. “But if he thinks it’ll help, I guess I’ll try?”
I was surprised that frenetic Sabine had actually taken the suggestion that yoga might help. Alongside my surprise was a little spark of hope that she was still working toward listening and taking advice to help herself. I smoothed strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ears. “Plenty of people start yoga and all manner of things when they’re adults. Think of how flexible you’ll be.”
“Bec, if I were any more flexible, you’d bend me in half.” Sabine bounced her eyebrows comically, then scooted over, patting the couch beside her. “How was your dinner?”
“It was lovely.” I shifted from the arm to the seat and settled close to her. “Nicholas is a nice boy. Man,” I corrected myself. “Well-mannered, confident, just what they need in an officer, which Vanessa insists he becomes if he’s committed to the Army as a career. He qualifies for Officer Candidate School so I assume he’ll go that route.”
She tucked Ugg-clad feet underneath herself. “Where’d you go?”
“That French restaurant close to the hospital.”
“What did you order?”
“Mushroom tart, sea bass, shared cheese platter for dessert.”
“No wine?”
“Just one glass. A very nice white Pinot Noir.”
She rested her elbow on the back of the couch, gazing intently at me. “What would I have eaten if I was there?”
It was beginning to feel a little like an interrogation, but I played along, unsure if she was trying to insert herself into the event to remind me that she was my girlfriend, or if she was considering it as a place for us to have dinner. I pushed aside my fleeting thoughts about not mentioning Sabine to Vanessa, and responded, “Hmmm, beet salad starter, veal main and profiteroles for dessert.”
She grinned. “That sounds awesome. Maybe we could go sometime?” Sabine drew in a deep breath, the rest of her words coming out in a rush. “And take a cab so we can both drink?”
“Of course, darling, I’d like that very much,” I said evenly. Even just suggesting allowing someone else to drive us was another huge step. I wanted to tell her how proud I was, but to acknowledge it would only draw attention to something she saw as a failing. So I said nothing.
Sabine took some of my hair in her fingers, winding it around in a loop. “So, this friend of yours doesn’t mind if her kid joins the military, but he has to be an officer?�
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“That’s about it.”
She scoffed. “Can you imagine? Pushing your child to be an officer.”
I smiled, well aware of the unspoken expectations of her own family and sure she hadn’t even realized what she was saying. In response, I hmmed.
Sabine let go of my hair. “What would you do if your kid wanted to join the Army?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I asked,” she said, seeming confused by me questioning her question.
“I don’t think I can answer that. I’ve never thought about it because I don’t want children. You know that.” I’d never wanted children, not even when I was younger.
“Maybe something will change.”
“Sabine, it’s definitely not something I want to start now, not that I ever did. What makes you think I want a child all of a sudden?”
“Nothing, I just thought…something made me think…never mind.” Sabine looked down at her splayed fingers. “Maybe I just dreamed it,” she murmured absently.
A dream? Gently, I squeezed her thigh. “Is everything okay? Do you need to talk about anything?”
She shook her head no, but I didn’t know if it was no, things aren’t okay or no she didn’t want to talk. I tilted my head, studying her. What was I missing? This was weird, erratic and completely out of character. Something clicked into place. Things had been tumultuous these past few years. She was thirty-seven, maybe she’d changed her mind about kids. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing. I had to take a breath before I asked, “Do you want to have a baby?”
She almost choked in her haste to get the words out. “Oh, fuck no. No!”
Relief flooded over me. “Okay, all right. I thought I should ask.” My mouth was dry as I asked another question, in as neutral a tone as I could muster. “Sabine, seriously, what’s going on?”
Sabine’s coal-dark eyes were wide. “Nothing. I just have this weird feeling, like we’d had this conversation where you told me you wouldn’t mind having a baby if it was accidental. And I can’t help but worry about the…accidental part of it.”
“Sweetheart, no, I have never said that. That’s craz—” I paused, rethought was I was about to say, and tried a different tack. “How could it possibly be accidental? We’ve talked about both of us not wanting children and my stance certainly hasn’t changed. I’m certain you just dreamed it or something.” I smiled at her, trying to soften my words and keep her relaxed. This was getting really bizarre.
“Okay.” She seemed to accept what I was saying but her expression remained confused.
Confusion was right, but I had to know what was going on in her head. I tried to pick my way around the right words, but there was no other way to phrase it. “Honey, have you spoken to Andrew about this? It kind of sounds a little bit like a…delusion?” I readied myself for her to come out swinging.
Her jaw tightened, working back and forth. “No I haven’t.” She gave a long exasperated sigh. “I guess I’ll tell him. On top of all the other shit I have to tell him,” she added in a mumble.
“Sure, okay. Good.”
We sat in the semi-dark, not speaking, just looking at one another with our fingers lightly entwined. Every now and then, Sabine absently pawed at the right side of her torso, under her armpit like she was pulling too-tight clothing away from her body. She looked strangely uncomfortable, as though she didn’t like her own skin.
The silence stretched until it became strained and uncomfortable, and I couldn’t help thinking of my earlier conversation with Vanessa. How it would feel to be with a woman without thinking through everything I wanted to say and worrying how it would be taken. To have just one day where this didn’t intrude into our lives. As soon as I’d thought it, I felt the flush of shame.
I had no right to think such things, and the fact I had made me feel sick. Sabine was my partner and I belonged right here. With the woman I loved with every cell of my body. With the woman who was suffering because of my decision when I’d already made so many wrong decisions.
But it was just so damned hard at the moment. I just wanted us to be the way we were, before The Incident. But I knew that would never happen. I swallowed, shifting on the couch until my back hit the armrest. Suddenly, I was desperate for Sabine’s touch. For the comfort of her body against mine. “Come here, cuddle with me.”
She popped up onto her knees, and we shuffled until I was stretched full length on the couch, my head against the cushions. Sabine lowered herself to lie between my legs, her torso pressed to mine half-on and half-off me. With one arm tucked up between us, the other wrapped loosely around my waist, she carefully rested her head against my breasts.
Sabine exhaled, a long and contented release. I felt the relaxation mirrored in my own body, finally having made it to the place I’d wanted to be all day. I cupped the back of her head, fingers massaging her scalp, then moved my hand to stroke up and down her neck. Kneading gently, feeling the raised edges of one of her shrapnel scars under my fingertips, I kept up the rhythmic movement.
“Feels really good,” she mumbled, her fist tightening on the fabric of my dress. “I love you, Bec.”
“I love you too, darling.” I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift wherever they wanted, until they inevitably came back around to the thing that stood like a fence between us, and the only explanation I could come up with for her behavior. PTSD. Not an unconquerable obstacle, but an obstacle nonetheless, made more difficult by the fact that being forthright about such matters was unnatural for her.
With painful clarity I realized that Sabine was right the other night, when she’d said that we weren’t connecting. It wasn’t just physically—we’d only made love once since she came home, or rather she’d made love to me—but emotionally as well. I felt like we were drifting past one another and I didn’t know how to stop it. I couldn’t tether us together. She’d rail against being forced or constrained. All I could do was follow her, keep her in my sights and hope that with everything we were fighting against, I could keep up.
Chapter Eleven
Sabine
Halfway to the lunch room, I realized I hadn’t counted my steps. Do I turn around? If I turn around should I count back to the locker room and then from the—
No. Don’t be such an idiot. My stomach turned over, a portentous fluttering in my chest stealing my breath. Stop it. Nothing’s going to happen, Sabine. It’s just numbers in your head that have absolutely no bearing on anything. The muscle of my jaw ached, tension radiating and coalescing into a sharp pain at my temple. Clenching my fists, I strode up the hall and into the lunch room. Not counting. And not having anxiety about not counting, no sir, not me.
Mitch sat at a table in the middle of the bland institutional space, a thick sandwich in one hand, a book in the other. Fruit and another sandwich spilled from the cooler bag he’d dumped on the table. We’d both choked down far too many disgusting meals on deployment to want what was on offer at the hospital cafeterias, and like most of our coworkers, brought food from home. After collecting mine from the communal fridge and waving to people dotted around the room, I slid into the seat opposite him. “Hey.”
Mitch set down his book. “Hey, darlin’. How’re things?” He bit off an enormous hunk of sandwich and swallowed almost without chewing.
“Usual. Busy-ass morning and looking like a busy-ass afternoon.” I pulled part of my lunch from the cooler bag and peeled the lid from my salad bowl. “You?”
“Same.” Mitch stared, not even bothering to disguise his disgust. “And what the fuck is that? Mix’n match day at the rabbit food factory?” To him, salad was the thing that you pulled off burgers and threw away with the wrapper.
Moving things around to make sure my lunch was evenly mixed, I said, “There’s chicken and cheese in there. And I have a Snickers for later.” Plus a protein drink, two bananas, and a container of crackers and dip. Bec was going a little overboard, making my lunches before work when I was not only perfectly
capable of doing it myself but actually had more time in the morning than her.
It seemed extra pointless that she was going to that much trouble, because as she’d know, I rarely had time to actually sit and finish a meal during a shift. So I usually snacked, ate whatever I could on the run and left the rest in the fridge for anyone who wanted it. Then I took my empty containers home like a Good Sabine.
His eyes lit up. “Sharesies?”
“Whatever. If you don’t tell Bec I’m giving away calories.”
“Deal.” Mitch frowned, the last of his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “She won’t really be mad, will she?”
“Not mad, no, because she won’t know. But she’s practically been force feeding me since I got back.” And watching me eat, while trying not to be too obvious about it. It was adorably sweet but also made me uncomfortable because it added to my feeling that I was doing something wrong.
“She loves you and wants you to be healthy. Nothin’ wrong with that. And she’s right, darlin’.” Despite his agreement that I needed to gain back a few pounds, a sneaky hand still came forward for my chocolate bar.
I suppressed a sigh. “I know. And I know she wants to talk more about it and I just can’t. Every time I think about it, I just feel like screaming.” I stuffed a forkful of salad in my mouth.
He didn’t even need to ask what about, he just knew. “You told her how you’re feelin’? Really told her?” Ever so kindly, he’d only taken half the Snickers, folded the wrapper back on itself and stuffed the remainder back in my lunch bag.
“Sort of.” I shrugged. “I can’t tell her everything because she’ll just worry all the time, and it’s bad enough now. I can’t stand how she looks at me differently.” Not to mention the odd way she’d looked at me the other night after she’d been out to dinner and I’d brought up the kids thing. The kids thing… Which according to Pace when I’d mentioned it to him that morning was nothing more than another fucked up fake thing in my brain. I couldn’t even trust some of my own memories as being real anymore. Just another symptom to keep an eye on.
