Such Great Heights

by Sydney Logan

  “Not long. Why?”

  Hazel sighs. “I just checked his room. Ryder’s in his bed. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He won’t talk. And he’s sucking his thumb. He looks just like he did when . . .”

  She doesn’t have to finish her thought.

  Just like when Natasha left.

  Jackson and I exchange terrified glances before racing down the hall.

  Is this our fault? Did Ryder catch us kissing?

  Jackson opens the door, and we find Ryder on the bed, wrapped in his blanket, sucking on his thumb. Only now, he’s crying. Fat, heartbreaking tears that trickle down his pale little cheeks. What Hazel failed to mention—probably because she didn’t see it—was the cordless phone in his hand.

  “Hey, buddy,” Jackson says softly as he climbs into bed. “Talk to Daddy. What’s wrong?”

  Ryder sniffles. “I wanna talk to Mommy.”

  Tears fill my eyes as Jackson wraps the little boy in his arms.

  “Ryder, Mommy’s gone, remember?”

  “But Mommy misses me. She said so.”

  She said so?

  “I’m sure she misses you, buddy,” Jackson says softly. “Mommy loves you. She just doesn’t live with us anymore.”

  This just makes the little boy cry harder. The sound pierces my soul, and when I can’t take it anymore, I climb into bed with them. Ryder snuggles between us, and I take his little hand in mine and hold it close to my heart. I look at Jackson, with his eyes filled with unshed tears, as he tries desperately to comfort his kid without completely falling apart.

  This isn’t a tantrum.

  This is heartbreak.

  We lie there, snuggled under the blanket, for what seems like hours. Finally, Ryder’s eyes grow heavy, and we both sigh with relief when his quiet snores fill the air.

  Very slowly, I climb out of bed, careful not to wake him. Jackson does the same, and I turn on the baby monitor before we head back to the living room.

  “Okay, what was that all about?” he asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  With a heavy sigh, we make our way into the kitchen. Hazel’s there, putting away the groceries.

  “What happened?” Jackson asks.

  “I have no idea,” she says, closing the pantry. “I came home from shopping and saw you two on the balcony, so I checked his room. And that’s how I found him.”

  Jackson says nothing as he slowly walks out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward his study. I don’t know what to do with myself, so I follow him. I watch as he heads straight to his mini-bar and starts to pour himself a drink.

  “Jackson,” I say softly, stepping close to him. “You don’t need that.”

  He laughs darkly. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

  I gently take the bottle out of his hand and place it back on the bar. Jackson’s wide, tired eyes find mine, and I pull him close. He wraps his arms around me and holds me so tight I can barely breathe.

  “We’ll fix it, Jackson. Whatever it is, we will fix it.”

  “I thought it was fixed,” he says, his voice breaking with emotion.

  He buries his face against my neck, and I hold him close. Things had been going so well, and now here we are . . . heartbroken and lost once again.

  The next morning, we debated on whether it was a good idea to send Ryder to school. After a long talk with both his child psychologist and his classroom teacher, we all decided that keeping Ryder on his regular routine was probably best, and I was just a phone call away if he had any problems.

  I wasn’t at all surprised when I got the call around lunch time.

  “Sorry about this,” Ms. Becky says when she greets me at the door.

  “Not at all. We wanted to try.”

  She nods and waves me inside. “He’s just lifeless. He won’t talk. Won’t play. He just lays on a beanbag in the reading nook.”

  Looking across the room, I find him by the bookshelf, gazing blankly out the window. He looks so little and lost that it makes my heart hurt.

  “And he had an accident,” she says softly. “The nurse took care of him. We keep an extra set of clothes around, just in case.”

  “I appreciate that. We’ll make sure to return them.”

  “I’ll get his backpack,” she says.

  With a nod, I make my way through the little kids and round tables until I reach the reading nook. I lean down and ruffle his hair.

  “Hey, buddy. Let’s go home.”

  Ryder’s eyes flicker to mine. He nods and reaches for me, his little arms wrapping around my neck just as the teacher arrives with his backpack.

  “Thank you.”

  She smiles sadly and tells Ryder she’ll see him tomorrow before heading back to her class. Ryder says nothing. He just rests his head on my shoulder as I carry him to the car.

  Once he’s strapped in, I call a panicked Jackson and tell him we’re headed home. I also suggest that he call Dr. Jane to see if we can make an emergency appointment. Then, I drive us home. I don’t even try to make him talk. I figure his teacher has been trying all morning, so maybe it’s best just to leave him alone. At least until we get home.

  I pull into the parking garage and turn off the ignition.

  “Livia?”

  I look in the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Remember when you said if something makes you happy or sad or you think about it all the time . . . that means it’s on your heart?”

  I blink back tears. I can’t believe he remembers that conversation.

  “Yeah?”

  He sniffles softly.

  “There’s something on my heart. Can I tell you?”

  Quickly, I open my door and join him in the back. Ryder unsnaps his seat belt and climbs into my lap. Taking a deep breath, I wrap him in my arms and gaze into his beautiful, tear-filled eyes.

  “You can tell me anything, Ryder.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.”

  He nods slowly, and I brush away the tears on his cheeks.

  “I need to talk to Mommy again.”

  Oh, no. What do I say?

  “I know, buddy. Maybe she’ll call soon.”

  I know it’s a lie. Hazel says Natasha hasn’t called since she left. But Ryder needs to hear that his Mommy gives a crap, even if she really doesn’t.

  “She’s so sad,” he says.

  “I’m sure she is. I know she misses you so much.”

  “She says she wants to see me,” he says, his voice shaking. “But then she hung up. I waited for her to call me back, but she didn’t call back.”

  I freeze.

  “Your mommy called you?”

  Ryder nods. “After the movie.”

  “What movie?”

  “Toy Story 4.”

  Yesterday.

  She called yesterday?

  Hugging him close, I wrack my brain, trying to put the pieces together. He fell asleep watching the movie. Maybe he had a dream that his mom called?

  And then I remember.

  The landline that never rings.

  It rang yesterday . . . when Jackson and I were out on the balcony.

  We just assumed the machine picked up.

  But it didn’t.

  Ryder did.

  And then we found him in his bed, totally despondent, with a cordless phone in his hand. I’d completely forgotten about that. We didn’t even think to check the phone.

  How stupid are we?

  Rage floods my veins, but I know I have to hold it together. This little boy needs me. And when he finds out, Jackson’s going to need me, too.

  It all makes sense now.

  Ryder talked to his mom.

  And now he’s a zombie.

  Taking a deep breath, I hold him close, whispering how much I love him, and how everything’s going to be okay. I have no idea if it’s true, but I have to believe. I have to hope.

  And I have to tell Jackson.

  “He se
ems to be talking. That’s a good sign.”

  I nod and hold Olivia’s hand a little tighter as we gaze at my son through the glass. Thank God she’s here. I honestly don’t know how I’d handle this by myself.

  As Ryder talks to the child psychologist, I wish for the millionth time that we could hear what he has to say. We watch as they play with a dollhouse, but it’s impossible to understand what purpose it serves. But, I remind myself, Dr. Jane’s the professional. I just pray she’ll know what to do, because honestly, I’m clueless.

  Why, after all this time, did my wife decide to call?

  And what did she say to my son?

  “She’s waving,” Olivia says.

  I tear my gaze away from my son to see the doctor motioning for us to come into the play area. Olivia and I waste no time making our way into the room. Ryder’s still playing with the dollhouse.

  “Everything’s fine,” Dr. Jane says kindly. “Ryder has given me permission to invite you into the playroom while we talk. I think it’s important that you hear this. Just make yourselves comfortable.”

  Olivia and I sit on the oversized couch and watch as Ryder moves the little dolls from room to room. His sweet face is strangely serene as he arranges the people and furniture.

  Dr. Jane sits down on the floor next to him.

  “Ryder, why don’t you tell your Dad and Olivia about the dolls.”

  He points to the plastic figures, all lined up in a row. “This one’s Daddy. This one’s Hazel. And this one is me.”

  “And this one?” Dr. Jane pointed to the female doll, obviously expected to be the “mother” in this scenario.

  “That’s Olivia.”

  Not Mom.

  Olivia.

  “Ryder, I see that the Daddy doll is in the living room with the rest of the family today. That’s new. You usually leave him in the study.”

  “Yeah, but he’s in the living room now,” Ryder says. “Daddy doesn’t stay in his study anymore.”

  I close my eyes as shame floods me. Even at five years old, my son noticed that I used to hibernate in my study and bury myself in my work.

  Olivia reaches for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Wait,” Ryder says, placing the two adult dolls side by side. “That’s not right.”

  “What’s not right?” Dr. Jane asks.

  “They should be holding hands,” he says, trying to force the two dolls together.

  “Why should they hold hands?”

  “Because Daddy and ‘Livia hold hands.”

  We both look down at our entwined hands. Dr. Jane looks, too.

  She smiles.

  “You like Olivia, don’t you?”

  “I love Olivia. Daddy loves her, too.”

  I nervously clear my throat.

  Suddenly, Ryder grows agitated as he searches for something. Dr. Jane notices, too.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The phone.”

  Olivia and I glance at each other.

  We watch as Dr. Jane helps him hunt for a tiny phone in the small container that holds the dollhouse furniture. Once it’s found, Ryder gazes at the little phone in the palm of his hand before placing it on the floor next to him.

  “Don’t you want to put the phone inside the house?” Dr. Jane asks.

  Ryder shakes his head. “She’s not in the house.”

  “Who’s not in the house?”

  “Mommy.”

  Dr. Jane nods. “Did Mommy call?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about that?”

  Ryder shrugs. “The phone woke me up. I answered it. It was Mommy.”

  “What did Mommy say?”

  “She wanted to talk to Daddy. But I wanted to talk to her. So she talked to me.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “That she misses me. That she loves me.”

  “What else?”

  “That’s all. The phone stopped working. I waited for her to call me back but she didn’t call me back. I waited and waited.”

  Ryder frowns, and I know he’s trying to make sense of it all.

  I’m trying to make sense of it all.

  Dr. Jane nods. “Ryder, I’m going to talk to your dad and Olivia. Why don’t you go play in the sandbox?”

  “Okay.”

  Ryder heads to the sandbox as Dr. Jane joins us on the sofa.

  “Well, that explains that,” Olivia says. “Although, he does seem a little calmer now that he’s talked about it.”

  The doctor nods. “I agree. He hasn’t heard from his mother for months, and then out of blue, she calls. It’s no wonder the little guy is so sad and confused. Especially since she apparently hung up on him.”

  “What do I do?” I ask helplessly.

  Dr. Jane sighs. “Honestly, I’d contact your wife. I can’t give you advice on how to handle her, but I would ask if she plans to make these phone calls a habit. And if so, they must be scheduled in advance so that you can also be on the call. She is his mother, and she is well within her legal rights to talk to him. Now that she’s made contact, I would be extra vigilant when you’re out in public with Ryder. Mrs. Healey could show up at the playground, or even at his school. She can absolutely walk into school and take him home if she wants. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

  The thought nearly sends me into a panic.

  “We absolutely don’t want that.”

  “You’re a lawyer, Mr. Healey. You know that she can. And there won’t be a thing the school can do to stop her.”

  My hands start to shake. I know she’s right. I didn’t think I had to worry about that, considering Natasha hadn’t even called her son. But now, that’s changed. And I need to know why.

  “Call her,” Dr. Jane says. “Find out what she wants. That’s my advice. And, if she does plan on making regular calls—or visits—we can prepare Ryder for that. And he does need to be prepared, so that we don’t lose all the progress he’s made.”

  “I understand.”

  “And I would absolutely screen all phone calls until you’ve spoken to your wife.”

  That won’t be a problem. I plan to rip the phone out of the wall as soon as I get home.

  We confirm our next appointment, and I thank the doctor for seeing us on such short notice. Ryder takes my hand as the three of us walk out into the fresh air.

  “Time for ice cream?” he asks with a smile.

  What I wouldn’t give to keep that smile on his face every day of his life.

  “You bet.”

  Hand-in-hand, the three of us walk down the street to our favorite ice cream shop.

  As always, Olivia had remained calm throughout the entire mess, being our anchor in the storm. Loving my son. Reassuring me. Doing everything in her power to console and comfort.

  It wasn’t until Ryder fell asleep that I got the chance to see her claws come out.

  “Who does Natasha think she is?” Olivia growled, slamming the door to my study. “When did she leave? March?”

  She’s breathless, her eyes blazing with fury.

  “Yes, she left in March.”

  “This is September! Why is she calling now? Upsetting him. Upsetting you! If I ever meet her, I swear I will stomp her into the ground!”

  I hide my grin.

  I can’t lie. She’s even more gorgeous when she’s mad.

  “Come here.”

  Olivia sighs heavily. “We can’t. Distance, remember?”

  “I can hold you.”

  She walks around the desk, and I reach for her, pulling her into my lap. Kissing her forehead, I let her sweet scent calm my nerves as I hold her tight.

  “Why did she call, Jackson?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What if she wants to come back?”

  “She can’t.”

  “But what if she wants to?”

  “She can’t. But honestly, I don’t think that’s what she wants. Maybe she wants to talk to me about the divorce. I
would welcome that, honestly.”

  Olivia nods. “What if she calls again?”

  “I disconnected the landline. And I’ll call the phone company tomorrow to get rid of it for good. We don’t use it, anyway. If she wants to talk to me, she can call my cell. I don’t know why she didn’t do that in the first place.”

  “Because she wanted to wreak havoc on our lives.”

  “Dr. Jane’s not wrong. Legally, Natasha has every right to talk to and see her son. And for his sake, I’m not opposed to that. But there needs to be a plan, and she will not speak to my son again until we have one in place. I won’t have her upsetting him anymore.”

  We grow quiet. After a few minutes, I dip my toes into some very dangerous waters.

  “Do you want to talk about what Ryder said?”

  Olivia’s eyes find mine.

  “Which part?”

  “About me loving you.”

  Her cheeks flush. I take my fingertip and let it gently trace her heated skin.

  “No. It’s okay,” she says softly. “He’s just a little kid. He doesn’t understand.”

  “I think he understands more than we realize. About a lot of things.”

  Olivia gazes down at our entwined hands. “We’re just going to have to be more careful.”

  “I think we have been careful. I just think my son sees that I’m happy for the first time in his life.”

  Olivia smiles, and I gaze at her pink lips.

  “Of course, I’d be happier if you’d let me kiss you.”

  “Kisses aren’t allowed.”

  “Just one?”

  She snorts.

  “We can’t do just one, and that’s why we can’t.”

  I pretend to pout.

  “I’m not sure I like these rules.”

  “Get divorced. And then you can kiss me all the time.”

  With a groan, I bury my face against her neck, hugging her tightly.

  I know she’s right.

  I hate that she’s right.

  “I have to admit, I really like seeing your claws come out. Mama Bear is very, very hot.”

  Olivia’s eyes narrow with the unfriendly reminder of my future ex-wife.

  “Natasha better back off.”

  I chuckle and hug her tight.

  I see her sitting at the bar.

  Her hair’s different. Maybe it’s longer.

  She’s sipping what looks like a martini. I assume, anyway. It’s the only drink she ever ordered.