The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

risk of dying, not from her own hand but from this cancer, and she was terrified. Looking at Adam, standing there, waiting for her answer, she knew in her heart she wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not now. She had a new purpose, to live, for what she wasn’t sure. But she had to at least try and find a different way of being in the world. One without blame, shame, and hopelessness.

Feeling like she was riding a monster wave, moving too fast to maneuver or leap off, time and events outside of her control. She dropped her gaze, exhaustion taking hold, and slumped back against the pillows.

‘Yes, I’ll come home with you.’

Part Two

Chapter 14

Clair

As they turned onto the long, narrow road winding through the native Douglas fir forest, half a mile up to their house, she couldn’t drive the menacing thoughts from her mind. She was afraid Adam would send her back to the hospital. She had to keep it together. Somehow, separate her fear and dread from some emotion that wasn’t despair. Her guts cramped as she began perseverating, a maelstrom of words circling in her mind; I lost him, my boy. My beautiful, sweet child. She felt her breath catch, her heart race. Her hands gripped the sides of the leather seat, as her mind willed her breath to flow into her nostrils. Remembering the practice, engage the parasympathetic nervous system to override the sympathetic. The body will breathe on its own. Just allow it.

She risked a glance at Adam. The north wind was blowing. He had his window down, letting the late fall sunlight in. Low and golden, it cascaded, lighting him up, his hair, too long now, whipping around his face. He was disheveled, she noticed. Not like Adam at all. What had she brought them all to? The car slowed, her stomach churning. She did not want this next moment to come into shape. If only, for the thousandth time she chanted inwardly, if only. But she knew, as a scientist knows, there was never an if only.

Coming to a full stop, they both sat, still and quiet, listening to the wind in the trees, the river, strong from recent rains, gurgling as it rounded the rocky bend. Slowly, cautiously, as though not wanting to disrupt this fine peace, Adam opened his door, stepped out. He reached over the seat, grabbing hold of her small plastic hospital bag, containing medical supplies. She had no clothes or toiletries, only what she was wearing, borrowed from the psychiatric unit’s clothes closet.

Adam and Clair had barely spoken on the ride from the hospital. It had been a tearful parting from Ben and Jodie. Clair insisted they return to their work, that she would be fine. She didn’t know if she would ever see her brother or sister-in-law again. Ben had called their parents during the visit. The conversation had been cool and disengaged. He gave the phone to Clair. After a few meaningless words passed between she and her mother, then her father, she handed the phone back to Ben. Then, there were papers to sign, appointments to make, prescriptions to fill, and instructions on how to care for her drains and wounds. It was overwhelming. Now, they were here, and it was time to get out of the car, begin again.

‘Clair, are you OK to open your door? Or, I can come around?’ Adam asked, stepping out of his side of the car, bending down to look at her.

She heard his voice crack. Never had she seen Adam on the defensive like this. Unsure of himself. Part of her wanted to hold him, tell him it was OK, she was OK. But she didn’t. There was a river running between them, cold and turbulent. It was dangerous to cross. She didn’t know if she was more afraid of being swept away downriver or making it safely to the other side.

The wind whipped through the car, chilling her. She felt so weary. Contaminated by the hospital and all that sterility. Her body and mind craved mess, disorder, chaos. Anything to unsettle and disrupt this quietude. Her chest ached. Two long tubes hung down either side, attached to collection bags, with reddish, yellow fluid. Her fluid. Her blood, her being. Like when they brought Devon home, newborn and fresh. Her breasts full of milk, leaking through her shirt. Now this.

‘Oh sure, I can do this. I’m fine, Adam, really. Go on in. I’m not feeble,’ she answered.

‘OK, then, I’ll just take your bag in… I’ll put this in the bathroom.’

She noticed his pause, hesitation. Was he wondering where she would sleep, now that she was home? It had been his bedroom for the past few months while she had been in the hospital. Would she share it with him now? Who else had been sleeping in her bed, she wondered?

‘OK, I want a shower first thing so that is good. I’ll change my dressings while I’m in there.’

They were standing alongside the car, him on one side, she on the other, talking across the roof. A strong gust of wind lashed hair around her face, causing her eyes to water. She felt an ache go deep into her gut. How Devon loved the wind, running around the grounds, wearing a makeshift cape of old curtain material, pretending to be able to fly. As Adam turned his face away, she saw Devon in him. His silver blonde hair blew back, showing his fine and aging features. A thrill of longing swept through her. Not now, she cautioned herself. Not ever. You tried to kill this man. What are you thinking?

They walked together into the house. It was cold. The kind of cold that comes from not having any life in the space for a long time. No amount of heat or fire erases this cold. She shivered. Adam noticed and rushed to the gas fireplace. He flicked a switch and fire erupted, fake rocks emanating red heat.

‘Sit down,