42. Derek
I try to pull in some slow, cleansing breaths and follow them with a not-so-cleansing glug of my bourbon.
When I busted the bathroom lock with plans to join her in the tub, I was first thrown that the room seemed empty. When I saw the still water of the tub, and then movement underneath, I sprang into action and hauled her out of the water, images assaulting my mind and blurring my vision.
As I got her out, saw she was breathing, conscious, my mind was filled with reels of when I was maybe five or six, at one of our vacation homes. I hadn’t forgotten the events of that day, but this was the first time in years they came to me so vividly.
I’d wandered away from the nanny; I was looking for my mother. I found her in the tub, unconscious. The water looked much like this water did, only her arm was draped over the side and red drips were dripping from her fingers, hitting the tiles.
She tried to end it all. I think if not for me walking in when I did, she could’ve succeeded.
After that day, we didn’t see her. For a long time. Weeks? Months? I don’t know. But when she came back, my father doted on her. Things changed. He spent more time at home. Glued to her. She got pregnant for the last time. With Grace. He didn’t dote on us, not much changed for us, we were raised by the help, but she was his focus. He spent a lot of time with her, taking her on trips, buying her gifts. He bought her another place, the Vermont place, and we spent the best summer of our lives there when Grace was born. And my mother was different. She drank more. She was a little more manic. And I think I was different, too.
The fear that seized me pulling Chloe out of the tub is something I’ll never forget. But Chloe wasn’t lifeless. She wasn’t bleeding. And I had the strength to pull her out unlike with my mother when I had to get the nanny, who’d been rocking Naomi to sleep.
I vividly remember the way Naomi was crying. Thaddeus had a fit. Asher was crying. I don’t know where Jonah and Eli were. But I remember the sound of baby Naomi crying mixed with the sounds of the ambulance while fear gripped me that my mother’s skin was so pale.
Chloe’s here. Pulling me from those thoughts. She’s making the bed. Now she’s lying on it and pointing the remote at the television.
Our eyes meet. Her expressive eyes are filled with sadness.
It’s our wedding day and she’s depressed. She’s depressed because she doesn’t like what I did to get her here.
I need air.
I message Kenny who’s got two guys stationed outside in cars in case there’s any bullshit. I tell him to have someone sit outside this hotel room until I get back.
“I need air,” I state. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Her eyes flash with confusion as I drop the still wet suit pants and my boxer briefs, and change into the clothes I’d brought to travel in tomorrow. Sweats and sneakers. She’s wearing her travel clothes, too. I figured we’d spend the rest of today naked. No such luck.