~ Emma
I’m surrounded by warmth, floating weightlessly on a cloud, rested and at peace for what feels like the first time in forever.
And then I’m yanked from my dream only to find myself cold and wet, sitting on the tiled floor with Nick’s arms wrapped tightly around me as a voice keens with anguish and despair.
It takes me a second to realise it’s Nick who’s making this noise and as I try to turn so I can work out what’s wrong, his arms only tighten, holding me against him.
His whole body is shaking as he rocks me in his arms, his face buried against my neck.
“Nick,” I plead, twisting awkwardly as I place a hand on his cheek.
He groans, as though in agony, his arms tightening even more. It’s only now that I’ve half turned, that I notice the knocked over glass, the spilt red wine that stains the white tiles of his bathroom floor and in that second it hits me what he would’ve seen when he walked in here.
Amy.
A memory of her anyway.
I must have fallen asleep, somehow knocked my glass of red wine over. And even though I still don’t know the exact circumstances of Amy’s death, except that it was due to both an overdose of sleeping pills and massive blood loss from the cuts on her arm, judging from Nick’s reaction to this, I’m going to take a guess that whatever he saw when he walked in here tonight somehow reminded him of that.
“Hey,” I say softly, one hand sliding over his as I attempt to pry his fingers from me. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” He groans again, saying nothing. “Nick,” I plead. “Look at me, please.” He eventually lifts his head and his eyes are so full of pain and despair that it’s almost unbearable to look at. “It’s okay,” I repeat, meeting his stare.
Nick stares back at me, his eyes searching as though he doesn’t believe me. His hands loosen slightly, sliding up my back to grip my neck. Then he pulls me in for a hard kiss and the fear that’s coming from him is now palpable.
“I’m okay,” I repeat against his mouth, struggling to get air. “It’s okay.”
I don’t know how long we sit on the floor of his bathroom for, but eventually I convince him to get up. He looks completely wrecked, so I gently pull off his clothes and push him into the shower.
He pulls me in with him, pulling me against him as we stand under the scalding hot water. He hasn’t said a word and still doesn’t, even as I begin to wash him.
Eventually we get out, drying off before walking into the bedroom. I climb into the bed, pulling him in after me. Nick gathers me in his arms and pulls me against him, and while this might normally feel good, tonight it feels anything but.
Because why I don’t doubt that I’ve now somehow been forgiven for the awful thing I did in looking up Amy’s file, I fear that what I’ve really done is open a whole new nightmare about that night.
Neither of us sleeps and Nick still doesn’t say anything. When dawn finally arrives, I’m grateful I’m off work because there’s no way I could function like this, and there’s no way I want to leave Nick either.
I roll onto my side, placing a hand against his cheek. “Hey.”
Nick stares up at the ceiling, barely acknowledging my touch. I flatten my hand, turning his head until he faces me. Nick blinks once before leaning in to kiss me. It’s softer this time, almost gentle as though he’s afraid of hurting me.
“You want to talk about what happened last night?” I ask when he eventually pulls back.
Nick shakes his head. “No.”
I nod, even though I know him not talking about it is a really bad idea. “What about what happened before, what I did?”
He shakes his head again.
I let out a long exhale. “Okay, we don’t need to talk about it right now,” I tell him, knowing we will have to at some point. “But can I just say how very sorry I am for betraying your trust like I did. I never should’ve done it and I truly regret the pain it caused you.”
Nick stares at me the whole time I’m speaking even though it feels like he isn’t listening to me at all. When I finish, he pulls me in for another kiss. It’s tender and beautiful, and almost like it was before everything went to shit.
Almost.
Because at the same time, it feels different, like an excuse maybe, or an avoidance at the very least. And as shitty as it is for me to just pretend this past week hasn’t happened, it’s still exactly what I do, kissing him back, as I pull him against me.
Because the truth is, I’ve missed him and I’ve missed this, and as much as I know we can’t ignore what’s happened, I don’t really want to talk about it right now either.
We spend the day in Nick’s apartment; neither of us doing much and neither of us saying much. Given everything that’s happened, especially Nick’s reaction last night, I know I need to get him talking about things, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m stalling because I’m scared, and I’m scared because I don’t want to push him back over the edge again. Not when I’ve already done it once.
The medical side of me knows this is wrong, that you can’t just bury grief and trauma and expect it to go away on it’s own. It never does. Nick needs to talk about what happened, not just what happened last night, but a year ago too. Me letting him stay mute is only going to make things worse in the long run.
But the side of me that cares for him, that sees him as something more than just a patient, can’t bring myself to push it, because this side is just happy he’s back. Even though we both know he’s not really back at all.
“Are you going to work tonight?” I ask, late in the afternoon.
Nick looks up at me from the couch. “No.”
I nod once, unsure what that means, before sitting beside him. He pulls me close and we spend the rest of the evening watching mindless TV, which neither of us takes in. When we eventually go to bed, Nick pulls me close again and for a little while it almost feels like this past week didn’t happen, that everything’s normal again.
But as soon as it’s over, that feeling disappears and I realise as ‘normal’ as that might have felt, it really wasn’t.
We fall asleep without saying a word.