35. Dom
Chapter thirty-five
Dom
T he house is quiet when I get home from work. I caught up with Bec in the driveway before she left. She didn’t say much other than that Ellie had a bad day, and she wanted to be here for her.
Why didn’t she call me?
No matter how hard I try, how hard I beg Ellie to talk to me, she’s still shutting me out. She’s still trying to do everything on her own. Why is it so hard for her to include me, lean on me? What’s stopping her from asking for help?
I find Ellie in the living room, cup of tea on the coffee table, a book in her hand, but she’s not looking at it. Her gaze is fixed out the window, her eyes glassy and far away.
She always feels so fucking far away.
I crouch in front of her before she finally looks at me.
“Hey, how you doing, honey? I ran into Bec. She said you had a rough day. What happened?”
“Just more of the same.” She gives a humorless laugh.
“What do you mean?”
Come on, Ellie. Let me in .
She shakes her head, her eyes squeezed shut, and I rub my palms from her knees to her thighs, squeezing once.
“Talk to me, baby. Let me help.”
“There’s nothing you can do. I’m not good at this, Dom, and it’s my problem. I just need to do better.”
My heart breaks. She still doesn’t see it.
“You don’t need to do better. You’re incredible just as you are. An amazing wife and a wonderful mom.”
“But I’m not,” she says, her expression almost empty, haunted. “And even if I was, is that all I can contribute? Who am I outside of that? What’s left of me then?”
I pause, not sure how to answer.
“Aren’t I more than that?” she asks, her expression full of fear. She looks so lost.
“Those things are only a part of who you are. You’re also kind and funny. Empathetic and strong. Protective and silly. Smart and introspective,” I say, desperately wanting her to remember who she is, who she’s always been.
I feel her slipping away, sensing that we’re heading over the edge of the cliff. I’m scared shitless of fucking this up and losing her entirely.
She groans in frustration. “It’s like my fucked-up brain never shuts up. Even when I want to be happy, it’s like there’s this film over everything tainting it. Like my brain is warning me not to get too comfortable because any goddamn second it’s all going to fall apart, the worst will happen, and I’ll lose everything .”
“I understand why you feel that way, but we got unlucky once. That doesn’t mean it’ll happen again.”
She stands, my hands falling away from her lap. She walks to the window and stares for a few seconds before facing me again. I stand slowly.
“How do you know that? How does anyone know that? The chances of what happened to us were small, too, and guess what? They still fucking happened. I don’t believe in taking risks anymore because even when the chances are good, someone still has to lose. The statistics always seem to forget that even when the odds of something terrible happening are low, they still happen to someone . But we’re just supposed to forget about them because mostly everyone gets out unscathed.”
“You’ve been doing so well lately; I had no idea you still felt this way.” It’s like we’re back at the hospital. “How can I help, Ellie? Please, just tell me what to do.”
“What? Like another piece of your puzzle? You really thought you could make up some game to get us out of this? At some point we have to grow up, Dom. These are real fucking problems and we can’t escape them with a goddamn puzzle .”
A calm, detached emptiness washes over me, so unfamiliar Ellie looks at me like she doesn’t recognize me. Gone is my carefree, easygoing demeanor. I take one step toward her and she takes one back. I freeze, afraid she’s about to bolt.
“You want to be mad at me, baby? You want to take everything you’re feeling out on me by saying shit you don’t mean? You need to hurt me so I can feel the way that you do?” I take another step closer. “Do it. Nothing you say could make me believe that we’re not stronger than what we’re facing.”
“What if we’re not?” she asks, voice shaking. “We argue over the smallest things. We’re at each other’s throats half the night, barely together during the day. Do you even have fun when you’re with me? Or am I just another chore?”
My heart runs cold. My chest constricts with panic at her words, not liking one fucking bit where she’s going with this.
“You’ve never been a chore, Ellie. You’re my wife. You’re my best friend and I love you. I love being with you. I just want to help you. I want to help you work through this, push past this. That’s all.”
“You deserve more than what I can give you,” she whispers, not hearing anything I’m saying.
“Don’t do this, Ellie,” I beg, my voice finally breaking, a sense of dread and cold helplessness rushing over me.
“I’m not doing anything. I’m finally admitting what we’ve been living in denial of for over a year. Maybe this is it for us. Maybe there’s no coming back from this. What if everything that happened broke us? We’re different people than we were before.”
“Jesus, Ellie. What are you saying? ”
“Do you want out?” she asks, voice steady, eyes dry.
I stride toward her, taking her face in my hands, her body melting into mine for a moment, closing her eyes, before she pulls back and returns her stare, empty of everything.
“Never. You are my wife and I will never want out. I’m really fucking trying here, but you’re still drifting away from me, like you’d rather push me away than let me in. There’s not one fucking part of me that doesn’t believe we’re not meant for each other. And when you’re meant for each other, none of the other shit matters. We will get through this. Tell me you still love me. That you still want me. That you still want us .”
She stares at me, perfectly still. Expression empty of any emotion at all. I can barely breathe.
“Fuck, Ellie, why can’t you tell me that?” I plead, barely above a whisper.
“Because I don’t want to feel anything!” Her scream echoes through the room. My body is frozen. Her chest heaves, her eyes wide, lost, and fearful. She’s seconds from falling apart and I don’t think either of us is strong enough to put the pieces back together. “If I let myself feel anything …then I have to feel everything , and I…I can’t do that. Please don’t make me do that,” she sobs.
“Ellie, you have to. You have to let it all in, baby. But I promise I’ll be here for you every step of the way. You’re stronger than what happened. You’re stronger than you ever believed. I’ve watched you heal physically. I know you can do the same with your heart. What if we try therapy again—”
“What, so they can confirm all the things I already know? That I’m an awful mom with horrifying thoughts who will never be good enough. Why can’t you accept that this is all that’s left?”
“Goddammit, Ellie. Stop talking about yourself like you aren’t worthy. I love you,” I yell, losing all control. I take a breath in a feeble attempt to calm myself. I’m backed into a corner and no matter what I say, Ellie’s acting like we’ve already lost. Finally speaking at a normal volume, I plead, “Let me love you.”
“I don’t know if I can. I’m not the same person I was when we met, when we got married, or even when we decided to start a family. I’m never going to be the person I was before all this shit happened and now I have to live with that and figure out who I am on this side of it all.”
“You don’t have to figure this out all on your own. You don’t have to be that person you used to be to be. Don’t you see? The best parts of you are still here , Ellie.”
“I wish you weren’t wrong.”