Page 33 of Nights Without Night
Isadoro puts a hand between us on the bed, stopping me. “Iván…” he sighs, closing his eyes. He says nothing further, as if exhausted. The air inside my chest trembles. I don’t know what I’ve said wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize instantly. I don’t want him to kick me out. I don’t want him to close the door again.
I don’t want to lose him.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know…I’m sorry, I just don’t know…” I feel my eyes heat with tears. I close them.
I can’t do this. I can’t burden him with my own issues. With the guilt of seeing what this is doing to me. I try to get a hold of myself. To reach inside and just hold everything together, but it’s like the foundation of me is rocking back and forth. Like everything is shaking air and dust. My breath comes out wetly and I try to clamp my mouth shut but everything is crumbling.
There’s nothing to hold onto.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, and in the darkness of my closed eyes, Isadoro pulls me towards him. Before I know it, I’m crying again. I don’t know how to stop.
“Come back,” I plead, fisting my hands on the back of his shirt. He holds me tight.
“I’m right here,” he says.
But he’s not.
CHAPTER SIX
“Jesus, Iván.”
“Hello to you too,” I tell Jack. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, come…what happened?”
I take a moment to collect myself. Take off my lightweight jacket, my shoes.
“Can we go into the living room?” I ask. For some reason, my voice is already trembling.
“Iván…” she says, placing her hands on my arms and looking at me. I avoid her eyes. I feel like I’m constantly at the edge of breaking. “Come here,” she says softly and pulls me into her arms. The next moment, I’m crying. I wrap my arms around her, shaking, and she presses me close, stroking my hair.
She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t shush me. Doesn’t tell me it’s going to be okay. She just holds me while I cry.
When I’ve calmed down enough to move, she gets me some tissues and we sit on the couch.
It all comes spilling out.
The incident at the bar. How things changed. How he won’t go out, or eat, or shower, or even sleep, probably, despite being in bed all day. I tell her about the glass of water. About the freakout. About that moment when the door wouldn’t open, and it felt like I would never be able to reach him. I tell her about the fear eating me up. The helplessness. The hopelessness starting to creep.
What if?I ask.What if he doesn’t get better?
Jack listens to me silently until I’ve emptied myself of words. At the end, I feel hollow and scraped raw, but there’s relief too, to have it out there, to not be carrying this alone.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say finally. Jack is turned towards me on the couch, holding my hand.
“Iván…do you think that maybe you’re expecting more from yourself than is actually possible?” she asks. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“I don’t want to talk about that. I’m sorry. I just…” I take a shaky breath. “I can’t think about more problems. I just want something. One…I just, I need help…” I say. I try to not start crying again.
“Okay, how about you go to the nearest V.A. centre? There’s one not far from here. You’ll have to quote some information regarding Isadoro, but you can get a consultation meeting without him. Go, tell them what you’ve told me. Hear what they’ve got to say, what services they offer,” she suggests.
“I can do that myself?” I ask.
“Well, maybe not…on the books per say, due to confidentiality reasons, but the V.A. supports families and loved ones as well, so I think you’ll be able to get someone to talk to you. Try it and if not, we’ll think of something else. But don’t keep it inside for so long. Don’t isolate yourself along with him, Iván,” she says. I nod.
“And…” she starts. I look at her. “Never mind,” she says, shaking her head. I let it go. I already know what she’s going to say.
