Page 11 of Estranged Heart
I open my eyes, looking around me, my face feeling wet with tears or sweat, I’m not sure. It’s been like this for the past month, off and on. I think I’ve moved past the nightmares and then I’m wrong. What’s wrong with me? Where are they coming from? They feel more like memories than dreams. Like real moments, so detailed and always playing out the same way.
“Silas? Talk to me.” Stacey runs her fingers through my hair and something about her touch sets me more on edge rather than calming me. That’s different. Come to think of it, there’sbeen this drift between us ever since I came home from the hospital. The connection we had before is nonexistent and I can’t find my way back. Not in our home or her arms. It has to be some side effect that will subside with time. I grab my chest and look up at her worried eyes.
“It was another bad dream.”
Her brow furrows and she leans down to kiss me on the forehead, the sensation weird against my skin—foreign, like a stranger’s touch. Yet this is the woman I’ve known and loved most of my life.
“Just like the last few?”
“Yeah.” I lift my head to rest it in her lap. How can being closer to her feel as if I’m further away?
“Are you watching too many scary movies while I’m away at work? Because I doubt my choice ofThe Proposaltonight is the cause of this.”
I laugh, the tension between us lessening a little. Lying with her still doesn’t feel as natural as it used to. Did what’s left of my heart forget it’s supposed to want her? It’s silly. We’re both the same people. Having most of someone else’s heart shouldn’t make a difference. I latch my fingers onto hers, closing my eyes, yearning for the same attachment I had before the surgery. How I got to the hospital is still a blur. I remember Stacey and the ambulance but not much else.
“It’s hard now but it’ll only get better from here. I promise. Life has given us a second chance. We can have everything we ever wanted now. You’ll see.”
I thought that too, once. All I needed was a new heart and life would be perfect. Things that were impossible before no longer would be. I’d have a full life. Except, all I feel now is emptiness. A different kind from before. I finally have everything and yet something’s missing. But what?
Stacey lowers herself in bed until we’re nose to nose. Stroking the side of my face with her soft fingers, she scoots closer, her smile a little sad. I hate being the reason for it so I lean in and capture her lips with mine. Our tongues tangle together and I think about how much I used to love being here, kissing her harder, desperately seeking out the passion we once shared. Our hands are everywhere and she undoes my pants before tugging off her shirt. Her chest rises and falls heavily. She’s beautiful, the white lace of her bra complementing her fair complexion, and her large gray eyes holding onto mine.
I love her. I do. It hasn’t lessened but it has changed. Focusing on her hopeful smile, I kiss her again and we roll around on the bed, her want for me appearing more dire. With flushed cheeks and a heated gaze, she removes the rest of my clothes, and when her mostly naked body rubs over mine I go rigid, my chest heavy from guilt. Nothing about this is wrong, yet a part of me is screaming otherwise. The voice inside is so loud it takes over and flashes of a man’s face enter my mind, his lips sealing over mine, and I lean into him, trying to reach for him when he pulls away. When I open my eyes, my hand is catching air instead and Stacey is back in his place.
Stacey stops writhing against me, her face wrinkling in confusion. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Not only didn’t I recognize the man I was thinking about while being intimate with my wife, but I also don’t understand why I want to see his face again. I can’t answer her question because I’m too busy trying to work through all the thoughts in my head. It had to be a memory from a nightmare. A bystander perhaps? Someone who tried to help me? Except no one ever does. What other explanation is there?
I can’t remember someone I’ve never met before and I’ve definitely never seen him in person. I’d know if I had. You don’t forget a pair of eyes like his. Dark and piercing.
“Silas?” Stacey rolls off me and sits up in bed. “Where did you go? You’re not having another seizure, are you?”
“I . . . I’m sorry. I can’t explain why something feels wrong but it does. I think it’s too soon.”
“Don’t be sorry. You underwent a major surgery and you’re still recovering. Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here waiting.” Her bottom lip trembles, her smile unconvincing.
“Yeah.” I sit up, bringing the blanket with me, and rest my back on the headboard. We stare at each other in silence for a little while before getting ready for bed. Stacey brushes her teeth and washes her face while I jump in the shower. She doesn’t join me and I’m more relieved than I should be. By the time I’m done drying off and putting on a pair of pajamas my mom bought me while I was in the hospital, Stacey is in bed, turned away from me with the covers to her shoulders. I climb in beside her, waiting for the urge to take her in my arms to come but it never does.
More time is all I need. When my heart finally feels like it belongs inside me, I’ll feel like I belong here with her again.
Six
Elijah
“I think this is the last of what was in his office,” Jessa says, setting a box on the table. Two days ago, I called up Landon’s best friend to help me box up most of his things. I don’t want to fully part with them yet but I can’t bear to look at them any longer, not when he can’t be here to use them. The book he was last reading sitting on the nightstand, his favorite apron he made breakfast in every morning hanging in the kitchen, and the quilt his grandma made him that he used to snuggle up with on the couch on his days off.
“Did you finish up in here and the living room already?” She speaks again when I don’t respond the first time.
She places a hand on my shoulder, her sniffling pulling my attention from the closed boxes in front of me. This isn’t him being shut away forever but it sure feels like it is. I’m at a crossroads here. I’m unsure what hurts more—seeing him everywhere or packing up most of what’s left. I look to hertrembling hand. Everyone else acts this way too, not sure how to be around me. I don’t blame them. I don’t know how to be around me anymore either.
“Elijah.”
Staring up into her red, swollen eyes, I nod and stand up from the chair I haven’t been able to move from for the last hour. Packing his stuff up is too final for me. Must have been for her too. She hasn’t stepped foot in this house since before the . . . I don’t even know what to call it. Accident? Murder? Unfortunate life-altering event?
It’s been over a month, and no matter how many times I tell myself he’s not coming back, it’s hard for my heart to fully accept it when our home is filled with his stuff. Our home. It’s only mine now. The large space is so big for one person.
I move toward the kitchen counter and put everything from the drying rack away, and she follows me, careful not to come too close. Do they think if they touch me too much I’ll break? If that’s the case, they’re too late. I’m already half of what I used to be—jagged and beyond repair.
“Do you want those to go too?” She points to my hand still holding a ladle and spatula. I didn’t put them up with others, not realizing I couldn’t let them go until now.
