Chapter 51 Warren
FIFTY-ONE
WARREN
Since the baby shower, things have been tense.
Not necessarily between me and Harriet, more like an unpredictable presence polluting the air.
A storm lying in wait. It keeps me on edge at night, forcing me out of bed and away from Harriet.
There’s always a chance a night terror could strike, and when my body refuses to shut off or my mind drifts somewhere dark, keeping myself busy with exercise is best. The last thing I want, despite her reassurances, is to frighten or hurt her when the past digs its claws deep into my consciousness.
The stress continues piling higher. First, it was the accident; then, it was the copyright suit, followed by me not telling her about my house. With her due date two months away, everything is slipping through my fingers before I can get a grasp on them.
Kevin notes my anxiety as soon as I step into his office.
I tell him everything; he gives me advice yet it doesn’t pacify the worry like it usually does. We both know exactly what’s being left unspoken, the biggest cause of my restless nights and racing thoughts.
April thirtieth. A normal day for most, when spring is in full swing, perking everyone up after long winter nights. It’s also our stormiest season.
As a firefighter, we’re expected to attend a vast range of calls.
Some are unusual and shocking while others become the norm.
We don’t get to choose where our presence is required.
Preserving life is and will always be our main priority.
Ask any first responder, and they’ll be able to tell you the date of the worst call they’ve ever responded to.
April 30, 2018 is mine.
A date that changed everything.
A date that comes around too quickly, when the one thousand four hundred forty minutes in the day last longer, as if the hands of time take pleasure in torturing me.
Kevin places his notepad and pen on the table and straightens in his seat. “I’d like to try something different today if you’re comfortable with it.”
His judicious tone is enough to make me uncomfortable, but I push past it. “What do you have in mind?”
There are never any dramatic pauses with Kevin, always getting straight to the point. What he suggests next, however, has me wishing otherwise.
“I want you to tell me about that night, in as much detail as possible.”
My spine stiffens, hands sliding against the arms of the chair as my palms clam up. “Surely, the report tells you everything you need to know.”
He nods. “I want to hear it from your viewpoint, not only as a first responder, but as an individual. The choice is yours. If you’d rather we move on to something else, we can.”
I sit unmoving, feeling as if the choice is very much not mine.
“These sessions aren’t mandated, Warren,” Kevin continues.
“Last we discussed, you told me you wanted there to be no secrets left between yourself and Harriet. You’ve taken huge strides in opening up to her, something even you didn’t think was ever possible.
You’ve maintained a small support network through the years, which now includes Harriet, but she wasn’t here before your diagnosis.
Her knowledge of your past is dependent on what you tell her, and I believe sharing with her what happened on the thirtieth of April, twenty-eighteen is a crucial part of this journey. ”
Hearing the date aloud is a hammer to the skull. My temples throb. Eyes pulse.
He’s right.
If I can’t relay the events of April thirtieth to Kevin, how can I tell Harriet?
“Okay,” I rasp. “Where do you want me to start?”
He smiles supportively and pours me a glass of water. “If you can, from the moment you woke up.”
My throat strains as I gulp the water down. It does nothing to soothe the tightness in my throat as I transport myself back eight years ago.
A bone aching tiredness presses on my shoulders as I pull up outside the cottage. Today’s session wasn’t longer than usual, but it drained me as if it lasted days, not sixty minutes.
I visited my parents before driving to Iris Meadows.
Ominous clouds shroud the sunset, and I don’t expect Harriet to be awake when I step inside.
My weary heart skips a beat when I find her sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, fingers plucking the strings of her guitar, notepad filled with her loopy scrawl at her feet.
Her smile is a balm to the soul.
“Hey.” She sets down her guitar. “You’re home.”
How I wish I was. It’s not that I feel out of place staying at the cottage—quite the opposite—but this isn’t my home. Perhaps one day, if my sessions with Kevin continue leading me in the right direction, it could be.
“And you’re awake.” I kneel in front of her. “Working on a new song?”
She ripples her fingers over the strings, creating a sharp tune. “I’m done now. You’ve got a long shift tomorrow, so you probably want to get some sleep.”
Minutes ago, I did, needing to silence the disturbance between my ears, but suddenly, all I crave is the smooth lilt of her voice.
I settle against the sofa, stretching my legs out. “Don’t stop. Sing for me.”
She’s never shy when it comes to performing, and my request brightens her beautiful smile. “Any requests?”
“The first song you performed at the distillery when we met up with the girls.”
She blushes. “Why that one?”
The answer is simple. “Because it’s when I knew fighting my feelings for you was a losing battle. It was the first time I allowed myself to picture a different future for myself, even though it felt light years away.”
She inhales slowly. “And now, it isn’t. It’s real.”
My eyes fall to my fisted hands. The man I was then wouldn’t recognize the man I am today. I hate how my mind meanders from what’s sitting right in front of me, but my fears are still very real, and this afternoon reopened old scars, leaving me raw and exposed.
Harriet notes the shift in my mood. “Did something happen at therapy?”
“Progress, but it’s taken it out of me today. I’m okay, though. I promise.” She doesn’t believe me at first. “Please sing for me, sweetheart. Help quiet the noise.”
The corners of her crystal blues crease with a sad smile. “Close your eyes. Rest.”
I follow her instructions and tilt my head back to the ceiling.
The lyrics float around me, caressing my skin. I picture myself walking through a field of pampas grass, bees buzzing, hummingbirds chirping, Harriet’s hand firmly in mine.
Someday, it won’t be a picturesque fabrication, and the once impossible future I’ve fought for will be reality. For now, all I have to do is survive the month, put April behind me and move forward.