by J. Daniels
“Nathan?” My voice hitched and was too quiet for him to hear, but God, I didn’t know if I had it in me to speak any louder.
I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t know if I could do this. I just knew I had to. I couldn’t know and let him forget.
I moved closer, close enough I wouldn’t need to raise my voice. Close enough I could hold his hand or wrap my arms around him if I needed to.
“Nathan,” I repeated at his back.
He closed the cabinet door and stirred the sauce. “It’s fine. I don’t need it. It’s good without the added heat.”
“Can you stop for a second?”
“It’s almost ready. Let me just put the garlic bread in…”
I wrapped my hand around Nathan’s elbow and held on to him when he attempted to step around me. “Nathan, stop,” I pleaded. “Please…”
He looked at me then. At my eyes as they watered. Then at my hand on his arm. My grip was severe.
“What?” he asked, lifting his gaze. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Your phone…Davis texted you.” I pressed the device into his hand. “I think you need to call your dad, Nathan.”
“I’ll call him later—I’m busy.” His eyes jumped between mine. “What’s going on? Why do you look like you’re about to cry? What the hell did Davis say?”
“It’s July twenty-ninth,” I whispered.
He stared at me for a long moment. “Okay…so it’s July twenty-ninth.” He shook his head, laughing a little. He was lost. He didn’t know…“Is that all he said? It’s also Thursday. I’m not sure why that’s something he thought I—”
Nathan blinked once, and then rapidly in succession, as if someone had just given him a hard shake. His lips parted as he gulped in a breath. There was suddenly so much shock and hurt in his eyes. And his breathing…It was labored now and so much louder than mine could have ever been.
“How do you know?” he asked quietly.
“Davis. His text…Your dad reached out to him. He was worried when you didn’t answer your phone.” I watched Nathan raise the device between us and pull up his messages. “I’m sorry I read it. It just popped up on the screen. I…What do you need right now? Do you need me to do something?”
“Like what?”
“I can call your parents, if you want. I don’t know…” My eyes burned with the threat of tears. “I don’t know what you need, Nathan. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.” His voice was gruff, thick with emotion, as he stuffed his phone into the pocket of his shorts. “I don’t need you to do anything. I just—” He peered over my head at the island. “Um, let me just…get this garlic bread in.”
I planted my hands on his chest. “Nathan, dinner can wait.”
“No, it can’t.” He spoke with finality, and he was holding on to my wrists now and tugging, lowering my arms between us. “Let me do this, Jenna. Everything else is ready.”
“Don’t you want to talk first?”
“No.” He moved past me then. “No, I don’t want to talk. I want to finish making you dinner. That’s the only thing I want to do right now.”
I plastered myself against the counter as Nathan slid the tray of garlic bread into the oven and set the timer for five minutes. He stayed facing away. He took the sauce off the heat, wiped the counter down with a towel, and stacked our plates.
I watched him move on autopilot. That had to be what he was doing…Nothing else explained how he was staying so focused right now. And I wanted to make him stop. I wanted to reach out and hold on to him so badly, but I didn’t.
Finally he had nothing left to do and stood still, flattening his hands on the granite. His back to me and his head lowered.
I moved to him then, hugging him from behind. “Nathan.”
His body went stiff the moment my arms linked around his waist. A reaction he couldn’t help or hide from me. We both felt it. Before I could ask or Nathan could explain, the oven timer sounded.
“Let me get that,” he said, slipping away from me.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach as Nathan pulled the sheet tray from the oven and set it on the stovetop. The edges of the bread were brown and crisp. He turned the oven off, then glanced at the sauce and the plates stacked on the counter as he tugged out his phone.
“I need to give my parents a call. You can start eating.”
“We can wait for you.”
Nathan shook his head as he brought the phone to his ear. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he said, moving past me.
“Of course.”
He wouldn’t rush this phone call. He shouldn’t rush it.
I felt helpless as I watched Nathan ascend the stairs. I would’ve done anything for him in that moment, anything he needed, and even though eating the meal Nathan had prepared seemed incredibly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, I knew I could at least get the girls fed. Taking care of Marley was something I could absolutely do for him.
After making their plates and getting them set up with drinks, I padded into the family room.
I smiled when they smiled and talked about how delicious the meal looked as we cleaned up their mess. Their joy was easy to latch on to. Especially Marley’s. I hugged her a little tighter on our walk to the kitchen.
“I love spaghetti,” Olivia announced, climbing into her chair. “Hey, where’s Nate?”
“He’ll be down soon. Napkin in your lap, please.” I got Marley buckled in her booster chair and handed her the cup she always used. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.” I took a seat beside her.
Olivia didn’t waste any time, twirling noodles on her fork and stuffing her mouth. She chewed loudly and licked sauce off her lip. “Mm.”
“Good?” I asked, helping Marley with her bite. She slurped a noodle, giggling at herself.
“So good,” Olivia said, concentrating hard as she spun her fork, getting her next bite ready. “Aren’t you eating too?”
Marley reached for her plate I was holding, wanting more.
“Of course I am,” I said.
After helping Marley with her next bite, breaking off a piece of garlic bread and giving that to her as well, I slid the small portion I’d plated for myself in front of me and picked up my fork. Zero appetite aside, I was going to eat the dinner Nathan had prepared. He’d worked hard on it. I alternated taking bites for myself and assisting Marley with hers, and Olivia had been right. It was so good. The sauce was full of flavor.
As I ate, I watched the stairs, waiting for Nathan to return. I wanted him to see how much we were enjoying his meal. But he didn’t come back down. And we finished eating without him.
After cleanup, which including wiping off Marley, who had a face covered in sauce, and putting the leftovers into the fridge, I grabbed the bucket of dominoes from the family room and returned to the table with them.
“Olivia, I want you to play right here, okay?”
I handed Marley a couple of blocks. She was still in her booster seat, and I wanted her to stay there for now—she was safely confined and content.
“Stack them on the table. Try to make a snake again.” I set the bucket in front of Olivia. “I need to go upstairs and I’m not sure how long I’m going to be up there. If Marley wants to get down, come get me, okay?”
“Okay.” Olivia stood from her seat and dug around the bucket. “Is Nate coming back?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
“Is he sick?”
“Sweetheart, please…just play with your dominoes.”
“Okay, okay. That’s what I’m doing.”
Olivia began stacking the blocks in front of Marley. Kids occupied and self-control stretched thin, I gave in to the overwhelming urge I’d been battling against during our meal and finally slipped upstairs. The hallway was quiet as I walked past Marley’s nursery. I strained to listen.
Nathan’s bedroom door was open and the light was on. If he was still on the phone with his dad or someone else,
I wouldn’t eavesdrop. I’d let him know I was there to talk if he wanted, and then I’d leave him to his call.
But I didn’t hear his voice. I didn’t hear a sound.
Nathan was seated on the bed, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and his head lowered as he studied a spot on the carpet. The phone was beside him on the mattress.
“Hey,” I said softly, hovering in the doorway.
He didn’t look at me. “Did you eat?”
“Yes. The girls loved it. They both had seconds.”
“And you?”
God, he was so caught up in this meal. Why was this so important right now?
Nathan looked over at me when I didn’t answer. “Jenna, please, if you didn’t eat yet—”
“I ate. It was delicious, Nathan.” I took a small step forward. “Can I come in?”
He nodded. His dark, serious eyes followed me as I took a seat beside him on the bed. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“It was probably the best spaghetti I’ve ever had. Didn’t even need those red pepper flakes.” I gave him a smile he didn’t return. “Thank you for making me dinner.”
“I’ve wanted to do it for a while…”
“I wish we could’ve enjoyed it together.” I placed my hand on his thigh, and when Nathan looked away and resumed staring at the carpet, I asked the question eating away at my mind. “Are you okay?”
Breath moved through his body, lifting his chest and shoulders. He shook his head.
“What can I do for you?”
“Nothing.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” When he didn’t give me an answer, I pulsed my hand on his leg. “Nathan…”
“No, I…I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
I flinched, involuntarily squeezing his thigh again before I pulled away.
“I’m sorry, Jenna,” he rushed out. “I know how that sounded. That’s not…I don’t mean—”
“It’s okay.” Hurt filled my voice. I dropped my hands together in my lap. “I’m sorry for prying.”
“You’re not prying.”
“Do you want me to go back downstairs?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. He stood from the bed.
“Nathan, just be honest with me—if you want me to go, I’ll go.”
A heavy sigh left him as he pushed his hand through his hair. God, he seemed so conflicted right now. Why?
“Nathan.” I stood then too, getting in front of him. “Talk to me. Please…I can’t tell what you want me to do.” I cupped his face. “What are you thinking? What’s going through your head? Tell me…”
His neck rolled with a swallow. Reaching up, Nathan held on to my wrists and pulled my hands away from his face. “I don’t want you here right now.”
“Okay. I’ll go back downstairs.”
“I don’t mean here…”
My breath caught, the hand of rejection slamming me in the chest as his meaning became clear. He wanted me to leave leave?
“O-okay,” I stammered, shuffling back to separate us. I crossed my arms and then lowered them a second later. I stared at the carpet.
My discomfort was obvious, but how could I hide it? I wanted so badly to be here for Nathan, to help him, and he didn’t want me to be.
“Thank you again for dinner,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ll just grab my phone and then I’ll go.”
When I tried to move around him to get to the nightstand on the far side of the bed, Nathan’s arm shot out and caught me around the waist. He turned to me and fit us together.
“I’m sorry,” he said, grabbing my face now and tilting it up so I would look at him. His voice was pained. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“It’s fine.” I stared into his eyes, my lips trembling. “It’s fine, Nathan, r-really. It’s…I’ll go. You want me to go.”
“I don’t want you to go, okay?” He leaned down, putting his face closer to mine. “If you’re asking me what I want, it’s not that. It would never be that. Jesus Christ…I couldn’t want you with me more, Jenna. I want you next to me all the time. You’re never close enough…I just can’t do this right now. You don’t understand.”
“So, help me understand. Talk to me.”
He just needed to let me in. We’d work through this together. I could help him…I knew I could.
“I know how this must look, how I must look to you.”
“What do you mean?” I pulled back to see him better. His arms dropped. “Nathan.” I placed my hand on his chest. “I’m not judging you…Is that what you’re talking about?”
No…How could he think that?
“I forgot.” His voice deepened and shook. “You know I forgot…you were the one who had to tell me.” Nathan read my thoughts and continued before I could correct him. “Through Davis—I know, but it was you who told me, Jenna. It shouldn’t have been you.”
The text? Really? Didn’t I already apologize for that?
“I’m sorry I read your text. I really wasn’t trying to…”
Nathan shook his head and sighed. He was obviously getting frustrated. “This is why I asked you to go. I knew if we did this now, you wouldn’t understand…”
“I’m trying to understand.” I spoke slowly, my voice pitching louder. “You’re not making it easy, Nathan. I still don’t know if you want me to apologize for reading your text or not.”
“I don’t give a shit about you reading my texts.”
“Then what is it?”
“I could’ve dealt with this on my own!”
I stormed around him to close the door. “The girls…”
“Fuck. Sorry…I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I don’t think they heard you.” I spun around to face him and moved closer, urging him with my hand. “Keep going. You could’ve dealt with this on your own. Okay. And with me here, you can’t?” What does that mean?
Nathan looked down. I could hear his breathing.
“Come on, Nathan. How am I supposed to understand if you don’t tell me?” I stopped right in front of him.
He lifted his head. Here we go.
“It’s fucked up, okay?” he nearly growled. “I know it is. I know how this looks. Who the fuck forgets the day their wife committed suicide? Who needs a reminder of the worst day of their life? I never should’ve had you here today, Jenna. I didn’t need you telling me Sadie died two years ago. That shouldn’t have been you!”
Heat burned across my face. I suddenly felt cornered, blamed for Nathan’s distress and the anger he was feeling.
“I don’t know what you would’ve wanted me to do…just hand you your phone back and act like I didn’t know? I couldn’t do that.”
His nostrils flared. I wasn’t the only one getting irritated with this exchange.
“If you weren’t here, it wouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have been you telling me.”
“Okay. Coming over today was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened.”
He shook his head as if to argue.
“What? Nathan, that’s what you just said…”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t regret what happened four hours ago in this room or how I felt…I don’t regret any of that. Do you?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not saying that was a mistake.”
“Then what are you saying?” he asked.
“I’m still trying to understand why you’re mad at me for this.”
“I’m not mad at you. Jesus Christ.” He gripped his hair. “How could you think I’m mad at you?”
“How could I not? You keep saying it’s me. I shouldn’t have been here. I shouldn’t have told you…”
“I’m not mad at you for telling me. I’m angry that it was you who told me, okay? It’s—” He paused, his jaw tight. “Fuck, this is frustrating…”
“It is.”
He wanted me here. He didn’t. He wasn’t mad at me. He was absolutely mad—that was c
ertain. My head was spinning.
“I don’t know how else to say it. I can’t explain this to you…”
“You’re not really trying to explain it though.”
He stared at me. “What? Yes, I am.”
“You just keep repeating the same thing, Nathan. That’s not explaining.”
“Because I don’t know how else to tell you! It shouldn’t have been you, Jenna! That’s it! And if you weren’t here right now, it wouldn’t have been you.”
“Well, maybe if you would’ve remembered…”
Nathan blinked, jerking back as if I’d slapped him. I might as well have.
My mouth immediately dropped open, which I quickly covered with my hand. Oh my God. How could I say that? I shook my head, gearing up for the apology of my life. I didn’t mean that at all…
“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out, my hand sliding down my neck. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t feel that way, Nathan. I swear.”
God, how did this conversation get so out of control?
“No, you’re right,” he said somberly. “This is on me. I mean, I should’ve remembered…” He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I should’ve done a lot of things…” His voice trailed off.
“I don’t know where that came from. I think it’s just, we’re having difficulty understanding each other and we’re both getting frustrated…We were bound to say something we didn’t mean.”
“This is why I didn’t want to get into this tonight.”
He hadn’t, and he’d made that known. This was on me.
“I pushed you. It’s my fault.”
“I’m too angry with myself. I never should’ve raised my voice to you.” He lifted his head, and there was so much sadness and regret in his eyes now, it stole my breath.
I went to move closer. I wanted to hold on to Nathan so badly, I felt like I needed it, but he gestured at the door with his hand, halting me where I stood.
“I should go downstairs and get Marley,” he said. He left off and you should leave, but I still heard it. How could I not?
Our conversation might’ve been a string of misunderstandings and misspoken words, but Nathan was clear on one thing. He didn’t want me here right now. He didn’t want to do this tonight, with me.
