“You’re not sure if you need to eat? Are you drunk again? Boy, you were really wasted last night.”
“I know.” He didn’t say anything more.
Was he going back to his wife? If so, hadn’t last night meant anything to him? “Nate, just come over. We’ll eat, we’ll talk. I promise you, we’ll have a good time.”
“Mia, I’m sorry. But I can’t.” The line went dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Val had completely forgotten about the large envelope that had arrived in yesterday’s mail until she saw it the next afternoon on the foyer table. She sat on the bottom stair and ripped open the envelope. She skimmed what must’ve been ten pages of information. It had some bullet points that attracted her attention.
Is your child left-handed? Does your child have frequent ear infections? Was your child slow to choose a dominant hand? Was your child speech delayed? Does your child seem bright, yet struggle to read? Does someone in your family have dyslexia?
Her hands started shaking. She could answer “yes” to every one of these questions except the last one. She didn’t know of anyone who had dyslexia.
She read the materials thoroughly now, anxious to find information on getting Chip help. She scanned statistics and numbers, searching for answers. Eventually, she found a part that suggested seeing a neurologist for a diagnosis.
She sprang to her feet and went to the kitchen. Rummaging through the junk drawer, she pulled out the phone book and flipped to Physicians--Neurology. She read each name. When she read Dr. Chesney’s name, she smiled briefly. The man who had saved her husband’s life.
She dialed his number and a female receptionist answered. “I am wondering if Dr. Chesney can examine my son and determine if he’s dyslexic.”
“I’m afraid Dr. Chesney doesn’t do that. I could ask him for a referral, though.”
Val nodded. “Yes. Please do.” She paced between the kitchen and the foyer, stepping over the jagged line that separated orange and brown tiles. The border between scraped tiles and dirty ones had spread toward the kitchen like a slow-moving puddle. Once Nathan went back to work, however, the edge hadn’t budged.
“May I ask how did you choose to call our offices?” the woman asked. “We are doing a survey.”
“He was the neurosurgeon who operated on my husband after an accident.”
“Oh. How is your husband doing?”
Val stopped moving. She swallowed. “Not so good.” Her voice cracked. “He’s started drinking and he’s gotten violent.” She’d never admitted that last one to anyone. Tears of shame sprung to her eyes.
“I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, those are typical outcomes of brain injuries. Are you seeing a counselor?”
“We tried counseling, but it didn’t work.”
“I’m sorry.” The woman was full of sorries, but that didn’t help Val. “Was it someone who specializes in brain injuries? Because a lot of therapists aren’t trained to address the unique needs of patients and their families.”
Val thought about Barbara and how she kept trying to remind them of why they fell in love in the first place. “I picked someone out of the phone book.”
“I think you’d be much happier if you worked with Dr. Shouse. She’s amazing. Her own husband suffered a frontal lobe injury and she’s very compassionate and very knowledgeable.”
“I don’t know. . . I think it might be too late.” Val squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. The fear in Chip’s eyes when Nathan was yelling was just too much. “No, thanks.”
# # #
The piano woke Val up that night. It was a beautiful classical piece that she’d heard before. “Brahm’s Lullaby,” she thought it was called. She stayed in bed and spoke to the spirit. “I’m trying to be patient with Nathan, but it’s so hard.”
The melody continued. She wished she could afford to get Chip piano lessons. It seemed such a waste that they had an antique Steinway that only a spirit could play.
The phone rang and the piano went silent. Val answered it and heard a young woman’s voice ask for Nate.
Val squinted at the time on her alarm clock. Midnight. “Nathan isn’t here. Who is this? Why are you calling this late?” The woman hung up without answering. Val’s heart jolted. A woman calling in the middle of the night and hanging up could only mean one thing. Nathan was cheating on her. Val’s hormones flared and she threw the phone across the room.
She wished it weren’t so late, so she could call Joely. Instead, she looked at the phone on the scuffed hardwood floor. It wasn’t like her to lose her temper. Nathan was stressing her out. She tried to imagine how Joely would try to comfort her. She would say, “No one said marriage would be easy” or she would say, “Nathan isn’t the kind of man to cheat.” Which he wasn’t. But why did some young girl call asking for him? Joely would point out that if the woman was calling for him in the middle of the night that meant Nathan wasn’t in her bed, either. Val nodded her head and lay back down. “Thanks, Joely.” She smiled to herself. The piano downstairs started playing again, eventually lulling her to sleep.
# # #
Nathan sat on the opposite end of the beige couch from Val. Across from them in a wing back chair, sat their new therapist. This woman was older than Barbara, with a few laugh lines permanently etched on her face. She had short, gray-streaked hair that looked like it wouldn’t move if the wind blew. Her name was Dr. Shouse.
Yesterday his wife had called him, explaining that thanks to a referral from Dr. Chesney, this counselor agreed to see them right away. Apparently, Dr. Shouse had a medical license and could prescribe anti-depressants if necessary. As if he would ever agree to that.
Dr. Shouse crossed her legs and looked at Val. “Tell me what brings you in today.”
Val toyed with her cuticles. “As you know, my husband suffered an injury to his head. I’m afraid it has completely changed his personality and. . . I don’t know what to do.”
“What to do?” the woman prodded.
“Yes.” Val sounded impatient. “I keep waiting for the old Nathan to return, but I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”
He wondered what she meant by the “old” Nathan. He hoped the counselor would ask, but she didn’t. Instead she looked at Val. “Tell me about Nathan’s current personality.”
Val took a deep breath and glanced at him. “He’s different. He doesn’t think things through, he forgets things, he gets angry easily.”
He studied his wife, unable to tell whether she still loved him or not. “What did I forget?”
Val shook her head and picked up the brown throw pillow between them. She placed it in her lap and picked at it. “I don’t know. You forgot to finish cleaning the tile in the foyer. You forgot to rent a floor sander. You forgot to tell me you lost your job.”
The room went silent. The counselor made eye contact with him and then with Val. She waited for someone to speak.
He shifted in his seat. He stood and walked over to the bookshelves. “I’m sorry I got fired. I begged Rod to give me another chance, but he wouldn’t. It’s not my fault.”
Dr. Shouse turned so she could watch him as he pretended to read the titles of her books. “It’s not your fault.”
“No!” He faced her. “Nothing’s my fault. I do things and I don’t even know why. It’s like I can’t control myself. Especially when Val corners me.”
At that, Val squeezed the pillow across her chest. “Corner you? I have to tiptoe around you--worried that you’re going to attack me.” She averted her eyes and studied her cuticles again.
Her words stabbed his heart. His own wife was afraid of him. He hated himself. “I would never hurt you.”
Val’s lips pressed together into a straight line. “I don’t know that. I don’t think you know that for sure, either.” She released the pillow from her grip.
They all paused a beat to collect their thoughts. Fortunately, Dr. Shouse took the lead. “Is there domestic violence between you two?”
/>
Val shook her head. “No. But when Nathan gets mad, he turns into this crazed person. It’s scary more than anything. He throws things.” She pushed her black bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t think he’d ever hurt me. But. . .he’s done a lot of things I never thought he would.”
“Such as?” Dr. Shouse asked.
“I don’t know. Buy an antique car, take Chip out of school, get a tattoo, get a DUI.” She rubbed her temples as if she were getting a headache.
Part of him wanted to put his arm around her and tuck her head against his shoulder. But he knew better. Instead he fought back. “You have a tattoo. So what?”
Val nodded. “I didn’t say everything was bad. I just said you’re not yourself.” She took a deep breath. “The fact that you bought me that house wasn’t like you, but I love it.”
Dr. Shouse scribbled something on her notepad, then looked at Val. “Some of Nathan’s personality changes have been difficult to accept and some have been welcome.”
Val raised her eyebrows as if she were having a light bulb moment. “I guess so. Here’s the thing. I want to be the impulsive one and he’s supposed to be the one who thinks things through. We used to balance each other out. Now we’re drowning in debt. We can’t afford to pay the roofers, the medical bills have started coming in and we don’t have the money to pay them either.”
The counselor cleared her throat. “It sounds like you had what I call a parent-child relationship. Val liked being the one who had fun and Nathan was the one who would do all of the worrying.”
Val had never thought of herself as a child. Although she’d liked having someone else balance the checkbook and pay the bills. “I guess so. I used to be fun, but all that changed when I became a single mom. I was hoping that Nathan could take over the worrying for me.”
Scratching her salt-and-pepper hair, Dr. Shouse watched Nathan nod in agreement. “For some reason, married couples sometimes reenact their childhood with one person stuck in the child’s role and the other, the grown-up. The problem is it’s not healthy. In those kind of relationships, you’re not equals.”
Val’s blue eyes shimmered with tears. “But this isn’t working, either. I’m afraid we’re going to have to sell the house.”
At that statement, Nathan couldn’t resist. He sat next to her and rubbed her knee. “But you love that house. It was my gift to you.”
She nodded. “I don’t want to, but I don’t see any other options.”
“It has a backyard for Chip and Homer to run around in. It’s your home.”
Dr. Shouse tilted her head at him. “It’s your home, too, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think Val wants me to live there anymore.”
Val looked at him, still fighting the tears. “I do want you to live there. But I need you to help me figure things out, not blow up all the time.”
He put his arms around his wife and hugged her. “God, it feels good to hear you say that.” But guilt oozed through his system. Mia. He’d broken his wedding vows with Mia. He pulled away from Val. “I don’t deserve you.”
Val scrunched up her face in confusion. “I used to feel that I didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.”
Dr. Shouse chimed in. “You used to feel that way?”
Nathan watched Val impatiently push her hair behind her ears. No one spoke for a moment. Finally, Val looked up at Dr. Shouse. “Please help us. I don’t want a divorce. But I don’t want to live like this either.”
His heart stretched like a serpentine belt that was about to snap. He longed to make his wife happy again, but he knew he’d gone too far. Kissing another woman was one thing, something he’d done without too much remorse. Something he could live with. But actually having sex was unforgivable. Val was right. He wasn’t dependable, upstanding Nathan Sullivan anymore.
He’d become a monster.
And no one hated him more than he hated himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
After their counseling session, Nathan and Val lingered in the parking lot. He didn’t know where to go next. He kicked a rock near his tire and swallowed. “What do you think of Dr. Shouse?”
Val twisted her mouth to the side. “I’m not sure. I thought she might give us some great ideas on how to cope since she has personal experience with brain injuries. But it’s a little early to tell.”
He nodded. The wind blew and he caught a glimpse of her pink locks hidden beneath her black bangs. How he missed his creative, spunky wife. “She did suggest that I carry a notebook and write things down so I don’t forget.”
She leaned against her car. “Are you going to do that?”
“Sure. It’s frustrating that I can remember the name of my third-grade teacher, but I forget what you asked me to do five minutes ago.” What really sucked was that he forgot to add labor to estimates for repairs at work. How could he be so dumb? “What made you decide to try counseling again?”
“I can’t call it quits until I know I’ve exhausted every option.” She crossed her arms. “So, are you coming home tonight?” It didn’t sound like she really wanted him to.
He studied the pavement beneath his feet. “Maybe I should find some place to stay until. . . .” Until what? She filed for divorce? She settled for a pathetic, unemployed husband? She found out about his fling with Mia?
“Until we work some things out?” she offered.
“Right.” He dared to look at her big, blue eyes. How he longed to tell her everything and have her forgive him! But that was unlikely. She was mad he’d kept his work situation a secret. She’d totally lose it if she found out he’d been with another woman. And he wouldn’t blame her.
“Where are you going to go?” Her face softened and she looked concerned. “The same place you’ve been staying?”
“No.” He squeezed the back of his neck hoping that she didn’t suspect where he’d stayed the first night. “I’ll ask Rod if I can crash with him. If not, I’ll find something.”
“What about your mom’s house?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want her to know I lost my job.”
“She would understand.”
“I’m not like my brother. I hate how he runs to Mom to bail him out whenever he does something irresponsible.” He paused, realizing he, too, had been irresponsible. He was more like his brother than he’d like to admit.
She didn’t respond. The night air blew a few strands of her ebony hair across her face. He started to reach for them, but stopped himself. Instead, she tucked them back into place.
The two of them stood there, as ill-at-ease with each other as if they were on a blind date. He wanted to talk more, but his confession lodged in his throat.
She looked at her watch. “I’d better go pick up Chip. Joely’s babysitting him.”
Chip. Nathan wanted to be the father the boy never had. The kind of father who would not only bring home a puppy, but stick around long enough to train it how to fetch. The kind of father who not only built shelves for his Matchbox cars, but got down on the floor with his son and raced them. The kind of father who not only took him to antique car shows, but taught him how to drive a stick shift when he was sixteen.
Instead he was the kind of father Chip didn’t need. The kind who cheated on his mom and broke up the family. He was no better than Chip’s biological father, a man so self-involved they’d never even met.
Nathan sighed. “Tell Chip ‘hi’ for me.” He watched Val climb into her car. She waved halfheartedly as she drove away.
God, he needed a drink.
# # #
After work, Mia staked out Nate’s house. He hadn’t been returning her calls and he’d skipped his last PT appointment. From across the street, she saw a Honda Accord pull in, driven by a woman she assumed was Nate’s wife. She had short, dark hair and looked as if she never smiled. Poor Nate.
Mia could be the perfect match for him. If he liked antique cars, she did, too. If he liked harmonica music, she did, too. And if he liked
to get drunk before they made love, then she did, too.
It hit her. Why she hadn’t seen Nate’s car come home. She turned the key and drove to the bar.
Once she found a nearby parking spot, she headed into the dark establishment. Several men turned and gave her the once-over when she entered. One guy even winked, but she looked away, scanning the stools for Nate. Bingo! He sat on the far end today.
She licked her lips and tried to walk like a model, exuding femininity. He didn’t notice because he was busy peeling the label off of his beer bottle. She hopped up on the barstool next to him. “Hi there. I missed you.” She leaned close to him, hoping he’d catch a whiff of her vanilla perfume. He’d mentioned how much he liked it that night in her bedroom.
His head turned her way, but he offered only a fading smile. “Hi.” He finished off his beer and ordered another one. Then, as if he’d forgotten his manners, he asked what she’d like.
What was going on with him? He’d called her when he’d needed to be bailed out of jail and he’d gone back to her place all worked up and ready for action. And now, he was lukewarm. She stroked the hairs on his forearm. The tail of his scorpion tattoo peeked out from underneath his shirt sleeve and she fondled it. “Want to do something crazy again?”
He shook his head. “I’ve done too much already.”
“Sounds like you had a bad day. Want to come back to my place and talk about it?” She raised her eyebrows a couple of times. Guys never said ‘no’ to guaranteed sex. And if that’s what it took to get someone to keep her warm at night, she was glad to do it. Nate was different only in the fact that he wasn’t afraid of commitment. He might become so infatuated with her that he’d decide he needed her around for the rest of his life.
His eyes squeezed closed. “No thanks, Mia.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’ve screwed up my life, that’s what. My wife doesn’t like me anymore. . . and I don’t blame her.”
She put her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “I like you.” He didn’t even smile. She thought about the stern look on his wife’s face as she pulled into that awesome house. That woman did not appreciate what a prize she had in Nate. “You’ve had some bad luck, but I understand you.” She studied his drooping eyelids. “I promise if you come with me, your luck will change.” She smiled and squeezed his shoulder again.
On the Verge (Sisters Series Book 3) Page 18
