Without You Here (16 page)

"No...it wasn't like that. It was more like, he was just always trying to make her happy. And at some point, he should have realized there was nothing he could do to make that happen. So...I guess...he should have given up on that and concentrated on doing what was best for her and himself and our family. I mean, I was here, too. And so much of his energy was spent worrying over Mom. Even when she wasn't sick. I don't know. I just...I don't know what I'm trying to say. I just want him to see things for what they really were. You'll hear him say shit like, 'She was the strong one,' or 'I'm nothing without her.' And...that's just not the way it was."

He had paused the video. Now he pushed play. "This is one of those videos Dad wanted to erase, but Mom said she wanted to keep it to remind her of her mistakes."

It looked like the aftermath of Christmas morning. Three-year-old Blake and Wyatt were sitting on the floor with a bucket of soldiers, standing them up in battle lines. Wrapping paper was everywhere. Amberlee was laying on the couch in her robe with an empty coffee mug dangling from her fingers.

"She'd been like that the whole time. The whole Christmas morning," Blake said. "The only time she got up was to fix the camera."

Blake and Wyatt played. Their soldiers attacked each other, made shooting noises and grenade explosions and dying sounds. Wyatt tousled Blake's hair and then stood and took Amberlee's mug. He left and came back with it filled. "Come on, A," he said. He seemed to have forgotten there was a camera on. He sat on the edge of the couch and sat the coffee on the end table. "Sit up. It's Christmas. We gotta get ready to go up to Mom and Dad's."

She sat up and Wyatt handed her the coffee. She hugged it to her chest. She sighed loudly. "I just don't want to go."

He pushed her hair off her face. "You don't? We always go up there on Christmas."

"Well I don't want to, this time."

He glanced back at Blake. "I think he'd miss seeing his grandparents."

"I don't want to go, alright!" she shouted. And then she burst into tears.

Wyatt set her mug aside again and brought her into his arms. "It's fine. We'll stay here. But pull it together, sweetheart, please. Just for today. It's Christmas."

"Oh, so I'm supposed to just switch off my feelings for the day so you won't be uncomfortable."

"Of course not. But just...be with us, today. Be here."

"And do what? You want me to bounce around the house and act all excited? I'm sorry I'm bringing you down."

Wyatt stood, shoved his hands through his hair and paced the floor. "Jesus Christ, Amberlee! I'm fucking trying here. I don't know what you want. I don't know what to do for you."

"Just leave me alone!"

"Leave you alone? I'm your husband. I'm the father of your child. I love you with all my heart. I'm not supposed to leave you alone, Amberlee. And you're not supposed to run away. Fight this, baby. Whatever the fuck is wrong with you...fight it. Tell me what to do and I'll help you."

She was sobbing into her hands. Blake had crawled off next to the tree. He was hugging a bear close to his chest and watching. He didn't seem upset. He was just observing. Wyatt's back was to him and to the camera. He sat on the edge of the couch next to Amberlee. "I know you're having a hard time. But you're missing everything."

"It's going too fast." It was hard to make out her words with her face in her hands like that. "He's already three. I try to get enough pictures and videos, but it's going too fast."

"We've talked about this, Amberlee. When you spend all your time trying to record everything, you forget to actually experience it."

"I want to be able to remember it all."

"If you don't live, then there's nothing to remember. You're not in any of these pictures and videos. You're off on the sidelines."

She was sobbing again. "We were supposed to have more babies."

"Shit," he muttered. He stood and moved to his recliner. He looked exhausted. "Amberlee, we've got the most perfect kid in the world. We've got a perfect family. I love our family. Why can't it be enough for you?"

"It's just not, okay?"

"He's not enough for you?"

"No!" Amberlee cried.

"I'm not enough for you?"

"No!"

The camera wasn't close enough to pick up on his expression. But for a long time it was silent except for Amberlee's sniffles. Blake toddled over to his mom's side. He climbed up next to her and stroked her hair. She didn't respond. Finally, Wyatt stood and picked up his son. "Let's go watch cartoons in Mommy and Daddy's room, okay?"

Blake laid his head on Wyatt's shoulder. "Grammy's Christmas?"

"We'll go do Grammy's Christmas in a little while." They disappeared. When Wyatt came back, he was alone. He stood over Amberlee for a long moment. Then, once again, he sat next to her on the edge of the sofa. "I think we should go to that doctor Pastor Aiden told us about."

She looked up from her hands, then. "Therapy? You think I'm crazy?"

"I think you're depressed and I think I've run out of ideas how to help, baby. Let's give it a try."

"No. No way. God, Wyatt, am I really that bad? Am I really so bad you think I need to see a shrink?"

He leaned in and kissed her. "It's Christmas morning. And you're on the couch crying instead of holding your son. Just let that sink in."

Blake stopped the video. He backed it up to where they started. "I'm leaving it here. He needs to watch this one."

I just stared at the now blank screen. "You were a real cutie pie, Blake."

He snorted. "Thanks."

I thought how sexy Wyatt had looked taking care of a baby and then a toddler. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd like to do it again someday. "Did she ever go? To the therapist?"

"Never. I don't know what her hang up was. She refused. And truthfully, she wasn't as bad as in that video. It's just, she moped around a lot. Sometimes Dad could pull her up for a while, but she always ended up sinking back down. When she had the double mastectomy, she just gave up. She didn't care whether the cancer was gone or not. Which it turned out not to be. But she just quit on everything. And Dad tried to hold up his end and hers in the marriage."

It was enough information for me. I would never hurt Blake. But if it weren't for him, I think I'd jump into this thing with Wyatt aggressively. Really push him to get past this. I knew he loved his wife and I was glad for him he was so happy with her. But I was going to be so freaking low maintenance compared to her, I almost wished we could be together just so I could be something light and fun in his life for a change. "Why'd they get married so young?" I asked. "I mean it almost seems like she didn't want to be married."

"They were nineteen. Got pregnant. I'm not sure, but I get the feeling Dad was thrilled. He'd proposed to her before and she'd said no. With the pregnancy, she kind of had to say yes, I guess."

I watched him as he read through some of the labels on other videos. "You and your mother?"

"Got along great. She figured out mothering pretty well. I could always talk to her. But as I get older, I almost think I've got Dad to thank for it. When I was a teenager I almost hated him. He seemed hard and cold, you know? But now I see he was just pouring everything he had into her. Which if he hadn't done that, she probably wouldn't have had the energy to be good to me."

The phone rang from somewhere in the kitchen. Blake rose and went to answer it. I sat there thinking about Wyatt and how cruel I'd been to him earlier. How cruel he'd been to me. I wondered if he could hurt me even more. I wondered how far he would go to hang on to Amberlee.                                                                     

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Wyatt fled to the cemetery. He hadn't seen Amberlee in two days. During the winter he very often drove to the wooded, church cemetery. But in the Spring, he much preferred to walk. He followed the path and came out on the other side, immediately locking eyes on Amberlee's grave. The flowers from last week had wilted. He hadn't gone to get fresh ones this morning like he usually did on Saturdays. Instead, he'd spent the morning fishing, flirting, and fighting with another woman. Now it would be Monday before he could get to the florist for Amberlee's lilies.

He sat with his back against the side of the stone like usual, reached for his whiskey bottle, and then realized he hadn't brought it. He closed his eyes and waited for the memories to come to the surface. He loved remembering the good times with Amberlee. This was often the best part of his day. There were so many good memories.

The first to surface wasn't of Amberlee. It was of Ettie, catching her first fish last week. Her laugh and her smile...he felt he could lose himself in her.

He opened his eyes and tried to banish her from the moment. This wasn’t his time to indulge in fantasies. It was Amberlee’s time to be honored.

He laid his head back, closed his eyes, and tried to think of Amberlee. Of making love with Amberlee. But his vision was suddenly filled with Ettie, the way she'd been last Saturday night, naked and sweaty and riding him with all the passion she had. He remembered he'd watched her. Her long throat. Down her chest to where her breasts bounced rhythmically. Lower past her abdomen to where the small, triangle of hair between her legs mingled with his own. To where their bodies joined in slick, hot pressure.

He opened his eyes again. He wouldn’t close them anymore. Somehow the girl had hijacked his mind. And how could that be? How could she take Amberlee’s place against his will?

Maybe it was natural. Inevitable. Maybe there was no way to hang on to his wife forever. The thought made his heart ache. He pulled out his cell phone. He’d saved the last of her voicemails as mp3s to listen to whenever he needed to hear her voice.

“Baby, I’d love some cinnamon ice cream. Can you pick some up on your way home?” By the time she’d left that one, her voice had become frail. Wyatt smiled at the memory of how he’d fed her small spoonfuls of ice cream, grateful in that moment that she was taking a little bit of pleasure out of life.

“Wyatt, can you pick up some candles for Blake’s birthday cake? And also, can you pick up a cake?” He laughed at that one, as he always did.

“Wyatt, please call me back.” In this one she was crying. “Oh, God, I don’t want to do this anymore. Please call me back.” This one he punished himself with. He’d been out working and hadn’t gotten the message for an hour. He’d gone home and found her crying on the bathroom floor, lying in her own vomit. She hadn’t even had the strength to make it to the toilet.

His throat tightened. Why was he doing this? All this did was hurt him. His thumb hovered over the delete button. Just this one message. Shouldn’t he delete this one? He held the phone out until his hand was shaking. At last he exited the app. He couldn’t bear to get rid of even this much of his wife. He deserved the pain. After what she’d lived through and done for him, the least he could do was feel this pain.

His phone buzzed with a text. He held it up again.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled sadly. She had nothing to be sorry for. “Don’t be,” he texted back.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

“Yes, I did.”

The texting stopped for a while and he found himself smiling at nothing. The girl just made him happy.

“Blake’s gonna teach me how to ride,” she texted again.

“A horse?” he asked, grinning.

“Ha. Yes. A horse.”

“You already know how to ride a cowboy.” He imagined her blushing and then giving him a lascivious look with those big, brown eyes of hers.

“For the most part. Could use practice. To improve my form.”

“I volunteer.”

“You’re so bad. Gotta go now. Bye.”

“Bye.”

That was it. He didn’t have the first clue as to how he was supposed to be behaving towards his wife or his family or this girl. But he was going to see her ride her first horse. He stood and shoved his phone into his pocket and walked away before he could second-guess himself.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Wyatt met us at the stables. I wasn't sure why or where he'd been. It was close to lunch. Blake had told me we were going to ride to Liza's, have lunch, and then ride around some more until some party that had come up. Their friend had called and invited us all to a moonshine party. I’d never had real moonshine and thought it sounded like a lot of fun.

I was petting a light brown mare when Wyatt walked up.

"Which one should we let her ride, Dad?" Blake asked.

"Take Willie and Nelson. They've been needing to get out anyway."

"I was thinking of Tilly."

"Then why'd you ask me?"

"Jeez, Dad, relax. I just figured...you know, Tilly's real mild."

"No offense to Tilly," I said, "but don't give me the horse you give little kids. I can handle anything you guys can."

Blake rolled his eyes and Wyatt pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. There they both were, standing in front of me, jeans and t-shirts and hip-shot stances. Wyatt was a bigger man, but Blake would fill out, too. Blake was very handsome, but lacked Wyatt's ruggedness. And as much as I hated the pain Wyatt was going through, the emotional depth it gave him was very attractive. I felt morbid even thinking of it. But seeing all those nerves, exposed and raw, made me want to take him in my arms and make love with him forever so that he'd never have to be unhappy again.

"Hell, I'll put you on Tornado, then," Wyatt said.

"Dad—“

"Tornado!" I squealed, bouncing up and down. "That's the perfect name for a horse for me."

He brought out a big, black horse and introduced us. Blake was saddling up Nelson while Wyatt showed me how to put on Tornado's saddle. "I guess this is your horse," I asked.