Chapter 37
Rachel
I’m trapped within myself. My mind is a globe of glass, from which I can only see a blurry kaleidoscopic view of the outside world.
Where everything is muddled. Foggy. Sounds like I’m underwater.
My body, on the other hand, is on autopilot, letting Karan guide it where it needs to go. But it has no will of its own. No ability to open its mouth and speak. The words are in my brain, screaming, pleading to come out.
But they can’t. They only bounce back from the glass walls and echo within me.
I want to say that I’m sorry. To Karan, and to Cayce and Corey. But especially to my boys. My actions directly ripped them away from their grandparents, and they’re still so little.
How can they understand? How is this fair to them?
I did what I did to protect them. Yet, in doing so, I know that I’ve hurt them.
And I’ve hurt my husband.
My husband.
I spy him from the corner of my eye, notice his tense jaw, and how tightly he grips the steering wheel as he drives on. Who knows how much turmoil must be brewing inside his own mind?
And I’m the cause of it. If it wasn’t for me—for my loss of control—he wouldn’t have had to show up for me the way that he did. He wouldn’t have had to confront his mother and stand up for me against her.
But he did. Oh, he did.
I’m no better than my parents, lashing out in anger like this.
The juxtaposition makes me nauseous. Never have I felt more supported and cherished by Karan. For once, he chose me. And he didn’t even hesitate. He wasn’t there to see why I’d begun to argue with his mother in the first place, yet he chose to believe that I must have melted down for a good reason.
He trusts me.
Chose me.
Karan places the car in park when we pull up in a roadside motel. I hear the boys excitedly ask if we’re finally there. The sounds make it all the way to me, muffled but still present, as Karan takes the boys out of the car and walks inside the lobby, likely to get a room.
And I stay here.
Unable to move.
My husband chose me.
All the hope that I’d let wither and die mere hours ago attempts to sprout back to life. Yet, it does so in a field of ashes. Because the cost of his love for me has been substantial.
Will he resent me for it?
Maybe not now, in this very moment, but what about later, when the adrenaline fades from his bloodstream? Will he lay awake tonight, looking at me sleep, and start to doubt his decision? Will he harbour newfound anger at the way I behaved?
I keep telling myself it wasn’t my fault. I tried so, so hard to keep it together, but Martine wouldn’t let me breathe. And when she touched me, it all became too much.
There weren’t very many times in my life that I melted down in this way. The first time was when Cayce and Corey were newborns, and I’d been completely overwhelmed. It happened a few more times when they were toddlers, and one or two times after grueling days at work, but that’s it.
That’s why it took me by surprise.
My thoughts get interrupted when Karan opens my car door, unclips my seat belt, and coaxes me to stand.
The boys are at his heels, both of their gazes focused on me.
I can tell they’re worried sick. I hate to weigh on them so much.
Hate the ugly rage that is an undiscernable part of me, passed down by blood from those I’ve cast out.
But the words won’t come out yet.
Karan ushers the three of us to a small motel room with an outside door. Inside is nothing spectacular; two double beds with kitschy comforters, green carpeting, a TV, a small round wooden table, and a bathroom in the far corner. A couple cheap paintings of boats adorn the walls.
Upon seeing the room, Cayce squeals and runs to the bed closest to us, followed by Corey. They both hop on the bed and start rolling on it and laughing their little hearts out. Their worry about me seems to be gone for now.
Good.
Karan takes my hand and ushers me to the other bed. “Here, lie down, baby.”
But I don’t. I stay seated, my gaze focused forward on my boys.
“Okay.” Karan strokes my back, so carefully that it feels like he thinks he’s going to break me. “I’m going to order us some food.”
“Can we get pizza?” Corey asks, his eyes lighting up.
“Yes, yes, let’s get pizza!” Cayce adds, just as excited.
I sit in silence and watch my boys play together until said pizza arrives. At first, Karan focuses on the boys, setting them up with a slice of pizza each along with some napkins to use as makeshift plates on the small corner table.
But when he’s done, he turns his attention to me.
“You should eat something,” he says, sitting next to me with a napkin and a slice of pizza in one hand. “At least a little bit. Won’t you do that for me, Rachel?”
I don’t move or speak.
Karan strokes my cheek with his thumb, and my chest swells, a lump forming in my throat. “Please. Rachel. Come back to me.”
I blink a few times, and finally turn to look him in the eye. With the glass globe finally vanished from my head, reality crashes into me with full force, and the tears start falling again, this time softly instead of sobs.
I don’t say anything yet, but I accept the slice of pizza from Karan and take a nibble.
He smiles, though his eyes become watery. “Good. That’s good, Rachel. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Guilt rears its ugly head at the thought that mere hours ago, I was the one going somewhere. Intent on leaving.
I had my reasons. Now, everything is different.
I swallow the small nibble of pizza, then set it down on my thighs and look up at Karan through my tears.
“Karan, I’m so, so sorry.”
“No.” He shakes his head, his voice gravelly. “You have nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Absolutely nothing. So I don’t want to hear it.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“I don’t care. You can tell me later. For now, I just want you to stop even thinking about apologizing, okay?” He wipes away a tear with his thumb. “My beautiful Rachel. You’re the one who was right, all along. And I’m the one who’s sorry it took me so long to see all the control they had over me.”
“Mommy,” Cayce calls from the table, his mouth full of pizza. “Are you okay, now?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Karan chides.
“I’m okay,” I half-lie, forcing a tearful smile to share with my sons. “Mommy’s going to be okay.”
That’s closer to the truth.
I take another bite of pizza, swallow, then set it down again and lean against Karan, letting his warmth comfort me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being there for me.”
“That’s what we do.”
“I know, but I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have stormed out earlier. I should have stayed and heard you out…”
“Rachel.” He strokes my hair, placing a loose strand behind my ear. “It’s in the past, okay? No matter what happens now, we’re in this together.”
He looks over at our sons, who are devouring their pizza, still oblivious to the conflict we’ve thrown them in.
“It’s the four of us against the world,” he adds.
“Yes. Okay.”
The guilt doesn’t go away—not completely, but the idea of the four of us as one strong unit gives me enough hope to at least wage war against it and keep it at bay.
Once everyone has had their fill of pizza, Karan and I both help the boys through their evening routine; bathtime, brushing their teeth, getting into their PJs, and finally, letting them crawl into bed with us.
It’s a tight fit, with this bed being a double and not a queen, and with Karan’s size being what it is, but we make it work.
Outside, it’s snowing again. Before I pull the curtains closed and head back to the bed to join my family, I stare at the falling flakes and remember that tonight is New Year’s Eve.
In a few hours, this year will be over, and with it, I hope Karan and I can leave behind all of the pain we’ve caused each other.
Maybe it’s too much to ask. Likely, we’ll still carry much of it with us as we move forward and continue to fix what’s broken.
We put on a movie and cuddle as a family until both Cayce and Corey drift to sleep.
When it’s only the two of us left, Karan kisses me, reverently, oh so tenderly, before we each lay down on our pillows with the boys between us.
I start to doze off with my arm on top of Corey, my hand clasped in his while his arm cradles Cayce.
“I love you,” I hear Karan whisper before I drift away.
“I love you,” I manage to whisper back in response right as sleep finally takes me.
And amidst the raw sensation of fear and turmoil about the future, there appears a star that outshines everything else:
Gratitude.
I have my husband back.