Page 126
Story: All I Have Left
“I totally get it. I just don’t know how to make it better.”
“There’s always giving a helping hand.” She gestures, peeling a banana.
I laugh. “Oh my God, you’re too much.”
“Hey, if it helps him out, you never know.”
Now there’s an idea. I could do that for him. That wouldn’t hurt him too much, would it?
I take Grayson to physical therapy later that morning after he refuses to eat, but he manages coffee. He’s… unresponsive for the most part, barely holding conversation and frustrated they told him it’ll be a year before he can drive again.
On the drive back to the house, I make conversation, but he offers very little besides a nod or a grunt.
“Did I do something to upset you this morning?”
That gets a response. “No.” Just one word. Nothing more.
I switch lanes on the highway, chewing on my bottom lip and trying to find something else to say. “If it’s sex, I mean, I could like, take care of you. I know they said we can’t have sex but there’s other things we could do.”
He rolls his head to the side, staring at me. His brow creases momentarily. “You don’t need to.”
Why not? Has he already done it himself? Does he not wantit? I’m dying to know, yet I’m plagued with insecurities. Heat engulfs me and I turn the air-conditioning up a notch. He looks over at me, probably noticing the flush of my cheeks. Sighing, he grunts out another breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“Then what is it?”
No answer.
So, I blurt, “Frankie’s pregnant,” to see what his response might be.
Nothing.
I look over at him, angry that he’s ignoring me. “Did you hear me?”
He runs his hand over his head, staring out the window. “Yes.”
“That’s exciting for them, huh?”
“Sure.”
“Grayson,” I sigh. “C’mon. I’m trying here. I feel like you don’t seem to care about anything these days.”
“Yet you keep trying to fix me,” he mumbles, still looking out the window.
“Because that’s what people in love do,” I snap. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”
His jaw clenches, his body tense next to mine, but he says nothing else to me the rest of the drive home. I don’t either.
Humiliation works through me and I begin to wonder why I’m putting in so much effort. I know loving someone through a traumatic event takes time. This is not going to happen overnight and we’re going to have days like this. It’s not like in the movies when they wake up from a coma and everything is fine.
Trauma doesn’t work like that. It’s months, hell, maybe even years before you heal.
When we get back to the house, I’m in the bedroom going through his laundry when I hear his truck start up in the driveway and the roar it makes when he takes off in it.
Alone.
I see two problems with this.
He’s not allowed to drive.
“There’s always giving a helping hand.” She gestures, peeling a banana.
I laugh. “Oh my God, you’re too much.”
“Hey, if it helps him out, you never know.”
Now there’s an idea. I could do that for him. That wouldn’t hurt him too much, would it?
I take Grayson to physical therapy later that morning after he refuses to eat, but he manages coffee. He’s… unresponsive for the most part, barely holding conversation and frustrated they told him it’ll be a year before he can drive again.
On the drive back to the house, I make conversation, but he offers very little besides a nod or a grunt.
“Did I do something to upset you this morning?”
That gets a response. “No.” Just one word. Nothing more.
I switch lanes on the highway, chewing on my bottom lip and trying to find something else to say. “If it’s sex, I mean, I could like, take care of you. I know they said we can’t have sex but there’s other things we could do.”
He rolls his head to the side, staring at me. His brow creases momentarily. “You don’t need to.”
Why not? Has he already done it himself? Does he not wantit? I’m dying to know, yet I’m plagued with insecurities. Heat engulfs me and I turn the air-conditioning up a notch. He looks over at me, probably noticing the flush of my cheeks. Sighing, he grunts out another breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“Then what is it?”
No answer.
So, I blurt, “Frankie’s pregnant,” to see what his response might be.
Nothing.
I look over at him, angry that he’s ignoring me. “Did you hear me?”
He runs his hand over his head, staring out the window. “Yes.”
“That’s exciting for them, huh?”
“Sure.”
“Grayson,” I sigh. “C’mon. I’m trying here. I feel like you don’t seem to care about anything these days.”
“Yet you keep trying to fix me,” he mumbles, still looking out the window.
“Because that’s what people in love do,” I snap. “You don’t have to be an asshole.”
His jaw clenches, his body tense next to mine, but he says nothing else to me the rest of the drive home. I don’t either.
Humiliation works through me and I begin to wonder why I’m putting in so much effort. I know loving someone through a traumatic event takes time. This is not going to happen overnight and we’re going to have days like this. It’s not like in the movies when they wake up from a coma and everything is fine.
Trauma doesn’t work like that. It’s months, hell, maybe even years before you heal.
When we get back to the house, I’m in the bedroom going through his laundry when I hear his truck start up in the driveway and the roar it makes when he takes off in it.
Alone.
I see two problems with this.
He’s not allowed to drive.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 172