session five
I step out onto the balcony and slide the glass door closed, then take a seat on the outdoor chair and text Harry to check if he’s available. Fingers crossed he is, because I need a sounding board to make sense of tonight.
Me
Hi Harry.
Sorry to bother you, but I really need to speak with you about something that’s just happened. I could use your wisdom.
I drop my phone into my lap and, remembering the pain around my wrists, I pull the sleeve of my sweater up to reveal deep scratches with droplets of dried blood along the edges.
I drag my finger along one of them, relishing the sting as I trace the red line.
My finger dislodges a sticky clot, and I watch as a fresh bead of blood forms. My stomach curdles as I think about the utter terror Abbi experienced at my hands.
She had to fight for her fucking life.
I shake my head, dropping it into my hands. I dig my fingers into the strands and tug harshly—despair my current companion. If I can’t get past this, can our marriage survive? I’ve made positive strides with Abbi, but this may be too much, even though she says she’s not going anywhere.
My screen lights up with Harry’s name, and I fumble to answer the call as I jump to my feet and begin to pace. “Hey, Harry. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem, Nix. I figured it was urgent.” His rich voice is warm and calm across the line, and I pause my pacing to lean on the railing and look across at the hospital, noting the limited lights shining in the windows because it’s the middle of the night.
I don’t know how to put tonight’s events into words, and I release a huff in frustration. What’s the point in calling Harry if I can’t tell him what happened, and it’s not like we’re face to face where he can read my body language or expressions to gauge how I’m feeling. I need to speak. Damn it.
“What’s going on, Nix? You missed our session on Sunday, and now I’m calling as you’ve asked, and you’re silent. I have to assume something drastic has happened.”
Shit, I knew there was something I missed when we had to leave in such a hurry. “Sorry, Harry. It completely slipped my mind. We’re in Germany with Murphy.” His sharp inhale bursts across the line. He knows what it means to be in Germany.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Will he … will he be okay?” he asks, and I easily picture his open concern plastered on his weathered face.
I swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat that seems to form whenever I think of Murphy and the long road he has ahead of him.
“He’s lost part of his leg and he has burns all over his body.
He hasn’t woken yet, but he’s alive and in the best place for the care he needs.
We just need to be patient at this point. ”
The line is quiet for a moment, then Harry clears his throat. “And how are you feeling about it? This has to be bringing forth some intense feelings for you after your experience.”
A grunt slips over my lips before I can stop it.
Trust Harry to dig into the crux of things without meandering around the topic.
“It’s been tougher than I’ve admitted to myself.
” I shove my fingers through my hair and rest my hand on the back of my neck, squeezing.
“I’ve been burying my feelings so I can be strong for Abbi.
” My feet start moving again without direction from me, anger bubbling to the surface.
“But I’m furious that our son is lying in the hospital with half of his fucking leg missing and burns covering his body.
More than that, I’m fucking terrified that we’ll lose him.
” I drop onto the chair, worry and exhaustion taking over.
“I can’t pretend to imagine how you’re feeling.
I’ve never been in your situation, but I have all the time in the world to sit with you as you work through your emotions so you can give the best version of yourself to Abbi and Murphy.
” The genuine tone to his voice tells me he means it and I can relax a little knowing I’m not on a time limit.
“Thanks, Harry.”
“You’re welcome.” I hear the rustle of fabric and assume Harry’s getting more comfortable in his chair, so I lean back into mine and spread my legs out in front of me.
I look up at the clear night sky and shiver a little at the cooler temperature.
“I feel conflicted. My focus should be on Murphy and his recovery, but things between Abbi and me took a turn tonight, and that’s the reason I reached out.
” I grip the arm of my chair with my free hand to remain seated when the desire to pace overwhelms me again.
“What happened between you and Abbi?” Harry asks, his voice soft and coaxing.
How do I confess that I almost murdered my wife in my sleep? That I’m a walking grenade, and my safety pin is no longer secure. That I’ve blown my marriage to pieces, and I wasn’t even aware of my actions.
“What happened, Nix?”
I explain how Abbi and I are sharing a hotel room and how I chose to share a bed with my wife against my better judgement.
“Why was it against your better judgement?” he asks. “I would have thought it was a step in the right direction for your marriage.” He pauses. “I thought it was what you wanted.”
“It is what I want.” I rush to confirm. “I want to sleep in the same bed as my wife, and things were going okay. I’d … I’d even let my guard down.” Too much, obviously.
“That’s good. Great even,” Harry praises, and I can hear his excitement in his voice.
My skin grows hot and tight as my stomach churns with shame.
For anyone else it would have been fantastic, but it doesn’t work that way for me when my night terrors take over.
I push to my feet again, unable to remain still, and pace.
Back and forth, back and forth, from one end of the small balcony to the other like a caged lion.
This conversation is harder than I imagined in my head, and perhaps it would be easier if I were in Harry’s office and we were talking face to face, but we’re not, and it’s not easy to confess my sins.
I know he won’t judge me, but saying the words out loud to another person makes the situation all too real.
“What aren’t you telling me, Nix?” he prods.
I blow out a long breath and roll my neck from side to side. Looking up at the dark sky, I seek clarity for the horrific turn tonight took, but it’s not in the night sky. I don’t think I’ll find it anywhere. That’s why I needed to talk with Harry.
“I had a night terror,” I blurt, tightening my grip on my phone to the point the edges dig into my palm, offering me something else to focus on.
“And …” he leaves the rest of the sentence empty.
He doesn’t need to finish the question; I know what he’s waiting for.
He needs me to be explicit. To share every detail with him.
It’s the agreement I made at our first session together; that I would share everything in my mind with him.
But how do I sort through the jumbled mess of thoughts twisting in my head?
“And …” I suck in a deep breath, hoping it will steady me, but nothing can stop the feeling of coming out of my skin.
How sick I feel about what I’ve done to Abbi.
The terror of ‘what if’. The shame that’s suffocating me.
“I was strangling an insurgent. Not just any insurgent, the insurgent that attacked Murphy and his team. My hands were tightening around his throat to the point I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore.
I was shaking him with my fury, slamming his head against the rocky terrain.
Dust was rising around us as I disturbed the dirt with every hit of his head against the ground.
” The reminder of what I was doing to my wife sets off tremors through my body, so I stop pacing to grip the cold, steel railing, grounding myself in the moment.
“Her … her voice. I-it came at me like she was trapped in a tunnel. I …” I drop my head, looking at my shoes.
“I ignored it. I ignored her voice calling for me to stop. She said I was hurting her, but I couldn’t understand how I was hurting her when she wasn’t there.
I kept going anyway, intent on killing the man beneath me.
He fought and struggled, but he was no match for me. ”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I see Abbi’s face beneath me.
Terror in her eyes and tears on her cheeks.
Her lips turning blue and her hair a tangled mess.
Her eye red with broken blood vessels.
My hands wrapped around her throat.
I lean my elbows on the railing as my knees threaten to give out and bile burns its way up my throat. I suck in a sharp breath to stave off the sickness that threatens to escape. One breath in, one breath out. Repeat. A sudden light breeze is a welcome relief against my clammy skin.
“Her voice … it grew louder and more frantic. The jostling beneath me started to feel different, and I’m not sure what brought me out of my nightmare, but when I finally woke, I was …
uh … I was straddling Abbi. My hands … my hands …
they … uh … they were wrapped around her throat,” I gasp for a breath, but my lungs are a useless organ, failing to work efficiently.
“Nix. I need you to slow your breathing for me. Listen to my count and breathe in and out with me. Okay?”
I nod, then realize he can’t see me. “Kay,” I grunt.
“Okay. One; take a breath in. Two; breathe out slowly.” He repeats the process several times, and I let him know when I finally feel as though I’m back in control.
We’re both silent for a few minutes.
“My first question. Is Abbi okay?”
I can’t express how much I appreciate that his first concern is for my wife.
“She’s okay. She’ll have some bruising around her throat, and she’s in pain right now.
I ran to the pharmacy and got what she needed to make her comfortable.
I wanted to take her to the hospital to get checked over, but she refused.
She’s worried about how we’d explain the situation.
She didn’t want me to get into any trouble. She’s sleeping now.”