Chapter 30 #3
Stepping further into the cabin, I followed the sound.
I pressed my ear against the bathroom door, hearing the shower running, streams of water steadily hitting the fiberglass sides.
If someone was taking a shower, there would usually be breaks in the stream of the water as they washed themselves, loud splashes coming off their hair and body. Something wasn’t right.
I twisted the handle of the bathroom door, and just like the front door, I met no resistance. It was even darker in here without the lights from the appliances. The overhead fan roared, trying to keep up with the fog the hot water created in the tiny bathroom.
My hand felt the wall for the light switch, flipping it up as soon as I found it. The bathroom was full of steam from the shower, the mirror completely fogged over. Three dull pops sounded from outside, more fireworks. The bathroom was empty. The only place left was the shower.
I grabbed the fabric of the shower curtain, taking a deep breath and exhaling before I pulled it to the side.
A wet, curled-up Bower sat over the drain.
His knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his shins.
He was soaked, still in his Henley and blue jeans.
His hair was sopping, streams of water dripping off it down his face.
His eyes were closed, his eyelashes clumped together.
Rapid pops of fireworks made Bower flinch, his arms pulling his knees even closer to his chest.
“Close the door!” he shouted, water spraying from his lips.
I reached behind me and swung the bathroom door shut, letting the steam engulf me. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. Did he do this every week?
I reached out to touch his shoulder. The water was warm, but for probably not much longer.
Bower flinched as I set my hand on his wet shirt.
I pulled my hand away quickly, not wanting to cause him more distress than he was already in.
Caleb had warned me about this, how he and Bower were different since they’d gotten back, but I hadn’t realized how bad it was for Bower.
He’d given me very few signs he suffered this deeply, other than the misfiring boat last night.
I crouched down next to the shower. “What can I do to help you?” I asked.
“Leave,” Bower said.
“I’m not going to do that, Bower.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow anyway, Mia. You won’t be back for another year. Just leave now and save us both the misery.”
“I can come back to see you,” I said. “You could visit me once the season dies down. It doesn’t have to end tomorrow.”
“You don’t fucking get it, Mia! Look at me! Look at me!” Bower turned his head toward me, eyes bloodshot, water streaming down his cheeks, mixing with tears.
I looked at him, right in his eyes. They didn’t have that twinkle that I was used to seeing. He looked broken and exhausted.
“We don’t have a future together. I could never marry you, never have kids. Think fireworks are bad? Imagine me with a crying baby. I’d probably fucking jump off a cliff or shake the baby to make it stop.”
I reached out again, pausing before I made contact, my hand hovering in the air between us. Bower was thinking long-term for us. Marriage. Children.
I set my hand on his shoulder. “It wouldn’t be like that, Bower. We’d figure something out, get you help.”
“There’s nothing that can help me, Mia. Even you can’t fix what’s wrong with me.
I’ve got PTSD that’s never going to go away.
” Bower shrugged my hand away. “I’m wrong for you in every way.
The boat last night made me see that. It’s not fair to you to be stuck with a man like me.
Can’t even deal with a boat misfiring without going into a full-blown panic. ”
“That was one time—”
“One time in one week. How many times in a month? A year? A lifetime?” Bower looked back at the shower floor, watching the water fall down the drain. “I shouldn’t feel like this.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I got out of there intact. Others didn’t. I’m lucky.”
“Caleb said he knows places that can help you,” I told him. “Let us help you.”
“No one can help me,” he said. “Don’t try to be a martyr for me, Mia.
Don’t give up what you want out of life for me.
I saw you with the kids the other day. You’re so good with them.
You’d be such an amazing mother. I can never give that to you.
It would kill me every day I was with you to see you give up that part of your life. You deserve children, Mia. Happiness.”
“Then get help, Bower. Find something that works for you so you can give me that. I want you—all of you. I couldn’t imagine doing that part of my life without you. I want our kids to grow up running around the resort, growing up like we did.”
“I can’t, Mia,” he said. “No one can fix what’s broken inside of me. Just leave. Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Fucking leave, Mia!” Bower roared.
I couldn’t hear the fireworks or the water hitting the walls of the shower over his voice. He’d never talked to me like that before. There was a level of hatred in his voice that I wasn’t used to.
My eyes closed on reflex. I didn’t want to see him like that. That wasn’t who he was.
I slowly opened my eyes, watching Bower sink back into himself. The water from the shower had to be cold by now, but he didn’t show it. He sat there like a stone, letting the water flow off him and down the drain.
“Is this it, Bower? Is this the end?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t get a response. He was too far gone, retreated within himself with no escape route.
It killed me he’d thought about our future—marriage, children—and already counted himself out, unworthy or unable. He’d had all these conversations with himself instead of with me. That wasn’t fair. To him or to me.
I’d imagined myself with him before, what our future would be. Our children running around the resort, growing up knowing how to fish, playing in the sand, maybe with rain boots on.
He’d dismissed everything tonight. Every notion that’d we’d have a future together. It was him giving up on us, not me. If he wanted me to leave, then I would.
I stood up, looking down at him, still huddled in a ball under the water.
I wanted to hold him and sit under the water with him until he was okay, but he didn’t want that.
I knew enough about anxiety that I respected that.
I was very much uneducated in everything PTSD-related.
When I thought of someone with PTSD, I assumed they were constantly suffering, unable to go about their daily lives.
For Bower and Caleb, PTSD reared its ugly head at the most inopportune times.
I was sure Bower would much rather be helping Dean at the bar right now than sitting in his shower with his clothes on, trying to drown out the noise of the fireworks.
I was sure Caleb would love to spend time on the beach with his wife and soon-to-be daughter, building sandcastles and enjoying the water.
PTSD had stolen that joy from them, their freedom.
And now, it seemed, PTSD was going to steal Bower from me.