Page 36 of The Caretaker
“Are you sure?” I asked, leaving the memory of that night behind. “We can watch whatever you want.”
“I want to watch Gavin,” he assured me, brushing his knuckles over my warm cheek. “If you’re up for it.”
Noon made it impossible to keep the scales even between us. I had to constantly remind myself that allowing him to care for me was my way of giving back to him.
I grabbed my laptop and cuddled up next to him on the couch, going through the options in the Gavin folder before deciding to start from the beginning. I’d never watched any of these videos since taking them. Had been too busy before he’d passed, and too afraid to after.
Our movie night started out well enough, and I knew I’d made great strides with my grief when I found myself laughing instead of crying. Things took a turn when video after video played and I began to pick up on a central theme I hadn’t noticed before.
“You’re doing it all wrong,”Patrick could be heard shouting in the background as I attempted to light Gavin’s birthday cake. He’d turned two.
“Where would you be without me?”he said in another clip as I recorded Gavin strapped into his booster seat. He’d officially graduated from the car seat. I hadn’t gotten the buckling of it correct. Patrick had stepped in to fix it.
“Can you do anything right?”he asked over Christmas breakfast. I’d burned the toast.“Who can’t toast bread?”
Through it all, Gavin remained cheerful. His life hadn’t been wrecked by my supposed mistakes, but for whatever reason, Patrick’s had. I could see it in the thinning of his lips, andhear it in his long-suffering sighs. To anyone else watching, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, wouldn’t have been something they noticed.Ihadn’t even noticed at the time. I likely thought it was just Patrick being Patrick. Grumpy and impatient.
But now, looking back at the state of my self-confidence prior to Noon showing me what it meant to be treated with dignity and respect, and looking back on Patrick’s affair, and the way he’d treated me after Gavin’s death… It became crystal clear. He’d been gradually beating me down from the start, and I’d let him.
“Even this he’s ruined for me,” I said into the now quiet living room after pausing the video I could no longer enjoy.
“Solace,” Noon started, but I was already heading for the stairs.
After a hot shower and a decent amount of self-loathing, I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom Patrick and I shared, wiping away the condensation so I could see myself better. So I could see myself better than Patrick did. It wasn’t easy, because on the heels of every mental self-affirmation came his put-downs from the home videos. By the time Noon knocked before entering and stepping in behind me, I couldn’t even think of a good reason for still being here, for existing.
He removed the brush from my hand and began the process of detangling my wet hair while he watched me through the mirror. Droplets of water trickled down my spine, vanishing below the towel wrapped around my waist.
“For the life of me, I can’t understand how he could possibly take you for granted,” he whispered in astonishment. “Being around you is comparable to the experience of watching a flower bloom. You’re guileless, generous with your emotions, soft-hearted in a world full of vipers.”
“All the things he hated about me,” I said in a flat tone, so numb I couldn’t even blink.
“Because they were all the things he didn’t deserve, and he knew it. He had to find reasons to justify hurting you to make himself feel better about it, Solace. Even your name speaks to the heart of who you are. The world needs more of you and less of him.” Once the brush glided through my hair without snagging, he set it aside to braid the strands the way I’d taught him to.
“What do you see when you look at yourself?” he asked, observing me as he worked.
“I…I don’t know,” I admitted. I was too tired to fight the bad voices anymore.
“Okay. What do you see whenIlook at you?” It was as if he knew focusing on him would be a task much easier for me to complete right then. His green eyes were wide open to me, as always, but this time I paid attention to what they said about me instead of what they said about him.
“I see respect,” I said. “For me.”
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“Admiration. Appreciation…”
“And?” he prompted, beaming at me, and without realizing it, my shoulders drew back.
“Strength. You see me as strong. I see fascination there too. I see…wonder.”
“And the list of adjectives keeps growing every day,” he said. “What else do you see reflected in my eyes, Solace?”
“I see my smile,” I said, reaching up to touch my upturned lips. “I see myself.”
“Whenever you forget, whenever he makes you forget your worth, what you have to offer, you look at me. Your reassurance will always be here.” He pointed to his eyes. “And here.” He laid a hand over his heart.
“What about when this ends? We can’t stay in this bubble forever, Care Bear.” I’d had to remind myself several times that what we shared under this tainted roof was for this specific spaceof time only, that our trauma bond would end once our spouses returned and reality kicked in. Those reminders typically came when I found myself admiring not only the attributes of his heart and soul, but his physical ones as well. The way his strong arms and body cocooned me at night, protecting me from my worst thoughts. And the way that powerful body ate up any distance that separated us when he could tell that I needed a hug. The idea of us going our separate ways saddened me on a daily basis.
He finished up with my braid before turning me around by my shoulders. “I was under the impression that no matter what happened next, we’d always be friends.”
