Page 50 of The Sound in Silence

I’ll be there.

I type it, but don’t send the text. Ariella is likely asleep by now and wouldn’t notice me gone and yet, my thumb is hovering over the send button before backspacing and replacing it with different words:

Me

Pass.

Still tired from travel.

The races are held on a few different roads—one in Brooklyn, some in Queens—and all are far away from here. After the race, it’d be quicker to return to my condo rather than the hours-long drive back here, which is a benefit, but still…

Knowing Caladin, he’ll question me since I almost never turn down the offer of a race, and though a part of me desperately needs the exhilaration, the escape driving that fast brings, my lie remains as I exit my office and head to my bedroom where my sleeping wife is.

Christ.

She doesn’t know this, and never will, but Ariella’s the first woman to be in my bed. First woman other than my mother and staff to even be in this house. Previous hookups are not brought here because I enjoy my privacy and won’t risk a stranger in my space—whether that’s here or my condo. Having a woman be aware of where I live, or even internal facts such as my love for tropical fish, can be risky. People can do insane shit with basic facts, and in my role, one can never be too careful.

My wife will own many firsts.

The bedroom doors tap gently as they shut, and I realize I have no idea if she’s a light sleeper and the subtle noise woke her up. She hasn’t moved, but she could be faking. I tread to the closet, stripping as I go.

The closet’s light casts a strip over the carpeted floor and right onto her. She’s sleeping on her side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow while the other is against her chest. She’d look so peaceful, if not for the slight furrow to her brow, the tightness in her jaw. Whatever’s in her head, it’s preventing her body from completely relaxing. Nonetheless, she’s breathing evenly, the blanket rising and falling in gentle movements. She’s on the very edge of the bed, almost like pushing herself farthest away from my side.

After slipping on pyjama pants, so she doesn’t find me naked, I go to the bathroom to quickly wash up, making a mental note to shower in the morning, and then walk toward the bed.

But not my side. Not right away.

I go to hers, inspecting that dip in her brow that I touch. Her skin is smooth and for once, her guard is down, so I can’t help myself but trying to ease her. When she shifts, I yank my hand away, and return to my side of the bed.

My side.Before days ago, this entire bed was mine, and now there’s sides.

Once I’m beneath the blankets, the space between us feels even greater. Emotional, mental, and physical.

This is good.

But not what I want.

I lie down facing her, wondering if she’s felt me slip into bed. Probably not because she’s stillonthe bed. Somehow, I get the sense if she knew, she’d suddenly find the floor to be a better place to rest.

Right when I close my eyes, Ariella whimpers. She lets out a pained moan that has me reaching for her. Her head rolls back and forth on the pillow, the dip between her eyes growing more prominent. Her mouth moves, her eyelids fluttering.

Nightmare?

Is this what the last few nights have been like? What herlifehas been like? Restless sleeper or nightmares from her traumatic accident?

I reach for her again, when her mouth parts, her sound freezing me.

“Mom!”

A sob, a scream, a thrashing, and then like the accident: sudden silence.

Sleep takes her under again.

I don’t move. Ican’tmove.

She spoke.

Well, screamed.

---