Waters Fall (5 page)

“Wow, Jake.
My children? I thought they were your children, too.” She leaned back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger, eyes closed as she tried to sort out what he was really saying. “What’s up with you?”

“Will you be here?” His voice rose, demanding, impatient. “I don't have time to play games, Nora. I have
work to do.”

“
Ohhh. Work.” She knew her sarcasm would irk him, but she didn't know how else to respond to his odd behavior. “Well, good. It's about time. Since you're working, of course I'll be there to have dinner with my children, and to attend my son's open house.”

“Our children,” he growled.

“Oh dear. I can't keep up. My children, your children, our children.” Her voice was glacial, even to her own ears, but this was insane, he was insane. He was acting like a crazy man. What was his problem? “I'll be home to care for
the
children. How's that?”

More curious than she wanted to admit, Nora stared at the phone in her hand for several minutes after they hung up. What was he up to? What could possibly be more important than attending Felix's open house? He'd never missed one before. She frowned and returned to the file she'd been compiling, but her mind kept slipping back to Jake's mysterious plans for the evening.

That night, Nora actually missed him sitting beside her at Felix’s assigned seat. They enjoyed leafing through the kids' school-books together, perusing the samples of art and writing, and finding out what their children were studying in the months ahead. Being able to report back what their teachers said about them was part of the whole experience. She felt slightly bereft going through the event alone, and when she picked Felix and Leslie up from the neighbor’s house afterward, they seemed to sense her emotional state, and were fairly subdued themselves.

Jake arrived home a few minutes after midnight. She was putting away the dinner dishes before heading to bed, when she heard the front door open and close, and his footsteps on the entryway tile. She didn
’t acknowledge him.

“Well, well. Look at you. Usually, I'm the one in the apron, up to my elbows in soap suds. How does it feel?”
From the corner of her eye, she could see Jake lean against the wall at the entrance to the kitchen, apparently waiting for a response.

“Feels great.
How was your night?” She took a deep breath and turned around.

Wow
.

6

“You look nice, Jake. Really nice.” Sometimes she
forgot how handsome her husband was. His hair, a little messy, as though he’d run his fingers through it several times, could use a trim, but she liked it this length, because the ends curled this way and that, even when he tried to slick it back with her hair products.

“Thank you,” he replied, his chest swelling slightly under the lapels of his dark gray dinner jacket. The white shirt without a tie looked crisp, but casual, and the skinny cut dress pants gave him a retro look that greatly appealed to her, especially in light of how much she'd missed him this evening.

“So? How was Felix's classroom?” Jake stayed where he was, and it suddenly occurred to her that he often stood in the doorway of whatever room she was in. Through her mind flashed snapshot after snapshot of conversations between them, with her at the kitchen sink, at her desk, in the bed, in the shower, and Jake standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall like he was right now. What did it mean? Was he afraid to get too close to her? Did he feel threatened by her? Was he leaving his options open? Her pulse surged, and she felt her cheeks flush. Caught up in the whirlwind of revelation, she didn't answer him right away.

“Nora? You okay?” Jake pushed away from the wall, took a few steps toward her,
then stopped when she blinked. The spell was broken.

“Sorry. Yeah.
Just a little spacey. Long day.” She chuckled at the direction her thoughts had gone, but she was pretty sure there was some psychological explanation for his doorway leanings. She’d have to mention it to Vicky when she saw her again.
If
she saw her again.

“How was the open house?” he asked again.

“It was fine. Felix is doing great, as usual, and the teacher had only nice things to say about him. By the way, she said to say 'hi' to you.” Nora couldn’t help the slight frown that flitted across her face before she went on, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice. The third grade teacher was cute, like a pet mouse was cute, but lacked that certain charisma necessary to tempt any healthy male over the age of ten. “You probably already know this, but Felix's class has a big production coming up the end of this semester. He's going to be narrating a historical drama for the whole school, and he’s chosen to do it in the character of Abe Lincoln.”

“Yeah.
He told me. We were going to talk to you about a costume, but things got a little crazy around here.”

Nora nodded, not needing clarification.
“He wants you to help with the facial hair, though. He figures you should know better than I do what a beard and mustache look like, seeing as you're a man and I'm not.”

“That, I am. And you’re definitely not.” Jake slowly crossed the kitchen toward her. He was looking at her in a raw way, one that made her uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“And he's helping to write it, too. Did you know that?” Nora picked up a dish from the drainer, turning away from him. Jake reached over her shoulder and took the bowl from her hands, setting it gingerly back in the rack, then turned her around so she was facing him.

“Yeah.
He told me that, too. I want to kiss you.” He reached up to slide a hand along the column of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “I've been thinking about kissing you since I walked in the front door.”

She released the breath she was holding, took another one... and shoved him away from her. He stumbled, but caught himself on edge of the counter before he went down.

“You're
drunk!
” Nora was stunned. An alcoholic who’d fought a terrible battle for sobriety, Jake reeked of whiskey and cigars. Up close, his eyes had that bleary, unfocused look she hadn't seen in over a decade. No wonder he'd been leaning against the wall. He was probably using it to keep himself upright.

“Drunk?
Hardly. A couple shots won't send me over.” He reached for her again, but she evaded his grasp, and he laughed. “Come on. Take advantage of me. You said I looked hot.”

“I said you looked nice, Jake.
" She tried to keep her voice steady, even as the ground rolled beneath her feet. "That was until you got up close. You don't look so nice now.” Her sentences came out choppy, her breath cutting in and out as she tried to find her footing again. Her lungs pressed against the inside of her ribcage. “I'm…I’m going to go to bed. You're sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh no,” he leered at her. “No one's sleeping on the couch. Not me. Not you. We share a bed and that's where we're both going.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You’re not sleeping in my bed tonight.” Nora turned off the light as she left the kitchen, her fingers trembling so badly she fumbled a few times before finding the switch.

Her head was filled with the sound of an angry beehive, and everything tingled as though she'd stuck her fingers in an electrical outlet.
“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe,” she chanted in time to her racing heartbeat, recognizing the old familiar signs of a panic attack in its early stages, something she hadn't experienced since the last of Jake's drinking days. She thought she was going to be sick and ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Leaning against the wall, she slid to the floor, and wrapped her arms around her knees. She left the light off; the cool darkness of the tiny room helping her focus on getting her body's involuntary response under control.

She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths in through her nose,
then blow long exhales out through her mouth. She counted in a soft, sing-song voice to the tune of 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star' until her heart rate slowed.

Sitting in the dark stillness, she listened, waiting, certain Jake would come after her.

Finally, she heard his footsteps in the hall. Every muscle in her body tensed, but he turned into the bedroom without even pausing outside the bathroom door. A few minutes later, she heard him pass by again, but his footsteps faded as he headed toward the other end of the house.

Nora
stood, blinking away the light-headedness from sitting with her knees bent for so long, and smoothed her hair back behind her ears. She bent over the sink, and using her cupped hands, she swallowed several mouthfuls of water. She brushed her teeth quickly and splashed her face a few times to cool her still flushed cheeks. She didn’t bother removing her makeup.

Feeling a little more in control, she opened the door slowly, peering down the hall in the direction Jake had gone. The coast clear, she crossed into the bedroom, leaving the light off in there as well. The dark comforted her tonight, and seemed to help her keep the panic at bay. She didn't need to see what she was doing. She and Jake had shared this room for long enough that she knew exactly where everything was.

Crawling into bed, she curled in on herself, debating whether or not to lock the bedroom door. She decided against it. If Jake wanted to come in, she'd rather deal with him in the privacy of their bedroom than out in the hall where the kids might hear.

“Don't let Felix or Les wake up and see their dad like this, please. Whatever Jake is up to, God, he's your problem to deal with. I can't.”

It wasn't much of a prayer, but Nora hoped God would understand. She rolled onto her back, her fingers splayed on Jake's cold pillow. She trembled a little as she slipped into the memories of their first years of marriage. How many nights had she spent like this, her hand reaching for him, finding only emptiness? At least tonight she knew where he was. At least tonight she knew he was home, safe. Alive. She turned back over to her side and lay facing the wall in the dark.

Her body longed for sleep, but her mind would not shut down. Where had he spent the evening?
With whom?

She still could hardly believe he would bail on an open house, but by all appearances, that's exactly what he'd done. He'd gone out—alone or not, she didn
’t know—had some drinks, a cigar or two, then stumbled home. Why? Why after all these years? Ten years last month, in fact. She’d given him an elegant tie pin to commemorate the date, and made his favorite meal. He’d smiled proudly, moved that she’d remembered.

Ten years sober, and suddenly, it was as though the last decade had never existed. In a single moment, it all came rushing back; the anger, the shame, the panic.

I'm not crying.
The thought crossed her weary mind, and she drifted off thinking about tears, and wondering if she’d finally run dry.

She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but she was instantly awake as the door to the bedroom opened, a faint stream of light coming from the night-light in the hallway. Jake stumbled into the room and around to his side of the bed. Already stripped down to his boxers, he slowly lowered himself to the mattress and worked his legs under the covers. Fumbling clumsily with his pillow, he made himself comfortable,
then he pulled her up against him. His skin was icy; he must have fallen asleep on the sofa without a blanket. It was unexpectedly chilly tonight, especially for early fall in Southern California, and he was probably beginning to feel the effects of the evening’s indulgence. His body relaxed against hers, and he let out a heavy sigh behind her, making the hair on her cheek flutter against her ear. She wrinkled her nose at the rank smell of his breath, and gingerly shoved his arm off of her. Reaching up, she cracked open the window above their heads, breathing deeply of the brisk night air.

~ ~ ~

Nora and the children were gone by the time he
pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. The room was cold, and he squinted in the undiluted light shining in through the open window. If his breath smelled half as bad as his mouth tasted, he should be thankful she hadn't left him fumigating in his own stench.

“What have I done?” It was only a murmur, but the vibrations his raspy voice sent rumbling through his head had him clutching his stomach.

He didn't remember coming to bed. He barely remembered standing in the middle of the living room, stripping off his clothes, then sitting down on the couch to think about where he might find a blanket.

He had to get to the shower. Slowly, with as little movement as possible, he stood up and braced his hand against the wall. The room was deep and narrow with only a few feet of space on either side of the bed for nightstands. Pretty convenient for drunks, he thought to himself. He made his way along the wall, head down, eyes cracked open only a fraction, and pushed open the bedroom door. The hallway was markedly warmer.

The rush of the shower sounded like Niagara Falls to his ears, and he finally opted for a bath instead. He sat against the wall in the hallway while the tub filled, then crawled back into the bathroom and eased his body into it, dragging the edge of the shower curtain in with him. He left it, already seeing Nora’s eyes rolling with disgust. It couldn’t be helped.

It was too hot, but that couldn
’t be helped either. He couldn’t move; his body simply refused to listen to his brain. He sat there in the shadows of the darkened bathroom, his flesh prickling sharply from the heat, sweating profusely. Lightheaded and dizzy, he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the cool tile, praying he wouldn’t hurl in his bathwater.

~ ~ ~

“Jake? Jake! Are you in here?” Nora jerked back the
shower curtain, splashing water across the tops of her shoes with the dripping hem of it. Fear clutching at her heart as her eyes fell on his prone figure in the tepid water. “Jake!” Her terrified cry ricocheted around the tiny room.

His foot, resting on the edge of the tub, twitched, then his whole body slipped beneath the surface of the water. He burst up out of it, gasping and sputtering, his hands grasping frantically for something, anything. The language that erupted from his mouth made Nora step back as though struck, and she tripped on his discarded boxers. She flipped the light on, anger and relief vying for position in her heart,
then she grabbed his towel from behind the door and tossed it on the floor next to the tub. Her voice came out high and tight, sharp.

“Clean up the water you just sloshed all over the place. You’ll slip and crack your head open. We don’t want that, do we?” Then she left the room.

Her heart was racing from the sight of him floating so lifelessly in the bathtub. He’d left the light off just like she did the night before, and even in the middle of the day, the bathroom was dark because of the absence of even a single small window. But he'd found comfort from the shadows for different reasons than she had, most likely because the light hurt his eyes. Apparently, he'd only fallen asleep in the tub, but the shock of finding him like that was subsiding way too slowly.

Nora headed toward the kitchen where she filled the kettle with water and put it on a burner to boil. She'd come
home to pick up her lunch she'd forgotten on the kitchen counter, and also to check on Jake. He'd been nearly comatose that morning, and she was worried enough to want to make sure he was okay. Now she wished she had stayed away.
I should have let him drown,
she told herself, anger finally taking precedence over fear.

Knowing he would give anything for some coffee, she deliberately chose to make herself a cup of tea. Pushing the sleeves of her thin sweater up, she crossed her arms over her stomach, and leaned against the counter to wait for the hot water. She was a little afraid that if she sat down, her shaking knees wouldn
’t let her stand up again.