A Missing Heart

by Shari J. Ryan

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she says through her locked jaw.

  The memory of finding those weird crumpled notes in the back of our closet last year plays through my head. I never felt it was safe to bring them up to her, but I’m at a breaking point right now, and I’ve decided I can’t live, hanging in the wind of Tori running from whatever she is mentally running away from.

  Making my way upstairs and into our bedroom, I tear open the closet door and remove all of the shit from the top closet shelf until I find the box that has been hidden. I place it down on the bed, grabbing as many crumpled balls of notes as I can and bringing them down to her. “Start with these. What is this?”

  She grabs them from my hands, as half of them fall to the floor. Salvaging what she can, she squeezes them against her chest. “Where did you find these?” she asks, as her face drains of color.

  “In the back of our closet. They weren’t hidden all that well if that was your intention,” I tell her.

  “I don’t want to see these,” she cries. “Take them back. Put them away.”

  “Why don’t you throw them away if you don’t want to see them?” I shouldn’t be pushing like this. I saw what happened last time I pushed.

  “I can’t,” she continues, her voice now escalating into a higher pitch.

  “Why, Tori?” I match her volume.

  “Because then I’ll remember what it looked like when I found my mother hanging from the ceiling beam in her bedroom. I’ll remember what starvation looks like in a five-year-old. I’ll remember what the people I loved more than anything looked like the moment they died in front of me.” Tori’s words are quiet, firm, and shattering all at the same time. She falls to her knees, with the papers flying out of her hands, and curls up into a ball on the ground. The time it takes for me to process what she said feels like I’m trying to figure out a difficult math equation. Or as if someone were to tell me the sky is actually orange, and my brain receives the coloring in a malfunctioning sort of way. I don’t understand and I can’t comprehend. Yet, the words make perfect sense. I can’t think of one thing to say right now, and by the looks of her mentally shutting down, I should be saying a whole lot. Though, the things I want to say won’t help. It’s not going to be okay. It will never go away. She will never be okay. And then there’s “sorry”. That word does nothing for anyone.

  “Have you told anyone else?”

  “No,” she breathes out through heavy sobs.

  Her father left. Her mother committed suicide, and her sister starved to death.

  “Tori, I need you to take a deep breath, babe.” She’s going to hyperventilate herself into passing out. She doesn’t hear me. Or she chooses not to respond. The speed of her breaths increase, and I know this isn’t going to end well. I pull her heavy body up into my arms and bring her up to our bedroom where I lay her down on the bed, propping her up to help her breathe better. “Look at me.” She doesn’t open her eyes. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t calm down. Tori, look at me.”

  “They blamed me,” she gets out. “They told me it was my fault.”

  “Who?” I snap. “Who the hell would blame a child for that?”

  “My grandparents,” she says between hiccupping breaths. “They told me I drove my mother insane. They told me it was my fault that my sister died.”

  I climb up on the bed and I grip her shoulders within my hands. “You know that isn’t true.” The resentment against her grandparents and father is pouring through me, making my chest ache. “No one should have blamed you for what happened.”

  “It was my fault,” she says. “I was awful. I should have called 9-1-1 when I found my mother hanging. Just an hour before, I had been mad at her for not letting me buy something so insignificant that I can’t even remember what it was. She kept telling me we were running out of money, but I didn’t understand what she meant by that. We never had money problems, not until my Dad left us I guess. I pushed her too far that day.” She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a pause. “I stared at my dead mother for the longest time, watching as the blood drained from her face while trying to convince myself she was only sleeping. I was too scared to call 9-1-1. I knew my sister and I would be taken away or handed over to my grandparents who hated me—if they would even take me. Turns out they wouldn’t.”

  The images breezing through my mind are hideous and scary. I don’t know this woman sitting in front of me, not that I haven’t said this to myself a million times in the past year. The truth is, I have only known her outer shell. Instantly, I realize why she has never told a soul the truth. She would be judged, labeled, and marked. The truth can’t be taken away or changed. It can only be accepted.

  “We need to get you help,” I tell her. Because what else is there to say? I don’t remember being twelve, or what my thoughts were like back then, how much I loved or how much I hated. I had a good life, with two healthy parents who kept me safe and sometimes in a bubble. So, how can I understand? How can I agree or disagree that what she did was normal or abnormal? What I do know is, shock can cause a mental disruption, which apparently is exactly what happened to her.

  “No one can help me,” she says. “I thought when we met and agreed to only move forward from the place we were standing, I could finally leave everything behind me.” She takes a few quick, pausing breaths before continuing. “Having a child, though, has reminded me every single day of my sister, how I watched her die too. I couldn’t keep her alive, so I could never risk being in the situation to care for someone, ever again. It is destroying me. I see my mother in me whenever I look in the mirror—the cowardice and weakness, and whenever Gavin cries, my chest tightens. I feel like I can’t take another second of crying or I might lose it.”

  “You never hurt anyone, Tori,” I tell her, feeling that sickness grow in my gut.

  “My sister cried for days and days, because she was hungry. I couldn’t take it anymore, AJ. I couldn’t take another minute of her crying.”

  “Tori,” I interrupt her. What the hell is she about to say?

  “I knew I needed to get her food, and I had no money, so I brought her to the local church and left her there so I could try to figure out what to do next.”

  “Why didn’t you just call the police? You were two innocent children.” I don’t understand.

  “I was afraid they would have separated my sister and me. We would have been thrown into some kind of orphanage. She was so scared, and I couldn’t do that to her. My sister was all I had left, and nothing was going to take her away from me.” Tori pulls her knees into her chest and wraps herself up like a ball, rocking back and forth as she continues to cry.

  I suppose I can understand, but if she brought her sister to a church…how did she die? “Then what?” I press.

  Tori looks up at me for a long minute, appearing to look back on that time, putting together pieces in her head. “She was crying on the front steps of the church for me. She was in her favorite pajamas with kittens on them, and her hair was a big mess. I tried to fix it the best I could, but she was fussing too much to make it easy.” Her eyes are open wide, staring through me as she continues. “She was reaching out for me as I crossed the street. I was planning to steal food from the local store, and I didn’t want her to be a part of that.”

  She stops talking completely as the look in her eyes turns dark and lost. “Tori?”

  “She ran after me. I told her not to. I watched her cross the street while a car was flying toward her. It was dark. The last thing I heard was her scream, but it was cut short by nothingness.” Hyperventilating sounds erupt from Tori’s throat. “I was supposed to take care of her, AJ. I was all she had left. Do you know what it looks like to see a child flattened to the ground after being run over by a car?”

  “Tori, stop.” I can’t take it. I don’t think I can hear this.

  “I ran to her. I fell down on top of her, squeezing what was intact—what was le
ft of her, which wasn’t much. I can’t ever get that image out of my head, AJ. She was so beautiful, perfect, and the sweetest little girl, unlike me. It should have been me. I caused my mother to end her life, and then…I was dumb enough to get my little sister killed.” She stops talking, and I think I stop breathing. Her hands come out of nowhere and she shoves me down onto the bed, flinging herself forward, running to the bathroom where I hear her vomiting violently.

  Shaking as hard as I have ever shaken in my life, I slowly get up from the bed and walk past the bathroom where Tori is still getting sick. Freaked out by the story I just heard, I run back downstairs for Gavin, who’s still playing with a toy in his high chair. I lift him out, holding him firmly between my arms, not knowing what to do at the moment. Screams start emanating from the bathroom, and I hear banging, followed by what I think sounds like bottles of pills hitting the sink. Jesus, we’re doing this again. I look at Gavin for a long second, wishing so badly he didn’t have to hear any of this. I hope to God his memory doesn’t ever go back this far. While I know I should get him out of the house, I’m afraid of what Tori will do to herself if I leave. “Buddy,” I whisper. “I’m going to go check on Mommy. I’ll be right back.” I force a smile so he knows I’m okay, because he looks terrified. He may not understand what’s actually going on, but he knows something isn’t right.

  I run up to the top of the stairs where the bathroom is and see her quietly filling the bathtub. “Please leave,” she says. Her voice is completely even toned, but there are half a dozen bottles of pills lying in the sink.

  “What are you doing, Tori?” I ask, keeping my voice even.

  “AJ, if you love me like you say, you’ll leave the house right now. Take Gavin, and go.”

  “I’m taking the pills,” I tell her.

  She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Fine. Get out!” She pushes me with all of her strength. The shock of her shoving me causes me to back up a step, stumbling into the hallway. She slams the bathroom door in my face and locks the door.

  I bang my fist heavily against the wood, while hearing more crashes and bangs. I have no clue what the hell she could be doing.

  I take the pills, leaving Tori in the bathroom upstairs, and grab Gavin before heading out. Once inside of the car, I call 9-1-1. For her sake, I tell them it’s urgent. I tell them it takes exactly seven minutes for our bathtub to fill up, and that once it does, we have no more than two additional minutes to prevent my wife from ending her life. That’s if she isn’t finding a way to electrocute herself. Sickeningly, I’ve had to consider each possible method of suicide during the past year. I felt like I had to be one step ahead of Tori at all times. She may have seemed okay and better since her last disturbance, but I haven’t let my guard down or trusted her since then. I was assured she was healthy enough to care for Gavin, even by her doctor who released her from rehab. Still, I’ve had eyes on our house when she’s home alone with Gavin. Our neighbors know of our situation, and they take turns stopping by while I’m gone, acting like nothing more than a friend to Tori.

  I’m still sitting in the driveway contemplating what’s right and wrong and what the hell I should do, when Tori runs out of the front door toward the car, screaming and crying. She yanks at my car door and pounds on the window with her palms. “I regret everything,” she screams. Her face is wet with tears, and her eyes are bulging like I’ve never seen. Her hair is everywhere and partly matted to her face. If anyone looks outside or hears her, they will call the police too. Everyone on our street knows we have a small child, and this is not a safe situation for any kid. “I wish I could make it all better. I wish I didn’t cause my mother to do what she did, or leave my sister.”

  Gavin hears the screaming and begins to whimper, probably from being scared. “It’s okay, buddy. Don’t worry.”

  “I can’t do this anymore! I can’t live with myself. I was able to block it all out until Gavin was born, and then it was like all the lights went back on,” she continues. My chest is aching, partly from hearing the long-awaited truth she’s speaking, but even more for the lie she has been living. I can’t even imagine how she’s kept this secret, hiding the truth for so long.

  I open the door and step outside, placing my hand over her cheek. “Listen to me,” I say calmly. “We need to get you some help again, and you’re going to have to come clean about this in order to do that, Tori. It isn’t going to be easy but I can’t sit here, knowing what I now know, and take this path with you, keeping this secret from every doctor you see. No one can help you if they don’t know what’s wrong. Do you understand that?”

  She shakes her head furiously. “I understand, but AJ,” she cries. “I don’t want to be around you anymore, and I shouldn’t be near Gavin either.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask.

  “I can’t do this anymore, AJ. I don’t know how many more times I have to say it before you understand. I don’t want to be married or have a child. I can’t be this person. I can’t.”

  “Say goodbye to him, then,” I tell her, feeling various emotions punch me in the gut. I could make excuses for her words, assume she’s saying them out of distress, but she’s said them before, and I’ve convinced her things will get better and she’ll get better. I think the truth is speaking louder than anything I could ever reassure her with. I open the back door where Gavin is eagerly looking at her, urging her toward him. “Do it, Tori,” I snap. She quickly leans in and blows him a kiss. She doesn’t even make contact, and it kills me. He’s reaching for her, crying for her, and she won’t even touch him. At this very moment, I think I hate this woman. I hate her so fucking much. This is not the woman I thought I married.

  Tori has moved to the front step of the house, and she has her head buried in her lap. A paramedic has pulled in, and behind that vehicle is a police cruiser. This is turning into a living nightmare. Again.

  The officer makes his way over to me and informs me there has been a disturbance report from a neighbor, as well as receiving my call. I can’t say I’m surprised by this after what has been going on for the past several hours. She has spent half of that time screaming at the top of her lungs and now brought it outside to continue it. “I think my wife is having a nervous breakdown, Officer. She has had two previous suicidal attempts. Based on her words and behavior, I believed she was about to try again, and I called 9-1-1.”

  “The disturbances?” he presses.

  “She was angry at me and wanted to let me know,” I inform him.

  “Was there any violence?” he asks.

  “No, sir.” The cop peers over into the car, next to where I’m standing. “I was trying to leave with our son. I wasn’t sure it was safe for him to be around her, and I felt he shouldn’t have to witness her behavior.” This is not sounding good. I’m making Tori sound like an unfit mother…and the worst part is, she is an unfit mother.

  The officer looks distraught when he nods his head subtly. “Very well. You should get him somewhere safe for the evening.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The paramedics are talking with Tori by the front step, and they’re helping her up to her feet. I watch quietly as they carefully guide her over to the ambulance in her bare feet and her vomit-covered shirt. I don’t have anything to say to her, and I feel guilty for that. I feel like a terrible person as I watch her climb into the ambulance, without me even offering her a word of sympathy or hope. I’m utterly speechless as she screams, “Do not follow me, AJ!” right as the ambulance door closes.

  It’s only minutes before the ambulance takes off down the street and the cruiser follows, leaving Gavin and I here alone in the driveway—which right now feels more like a crossroads.

  I look at him, and the scared look in his wondering eyes. “We’re going to be okay,” I tell him, placing the back of my hand softly against his small cheek.

  Even knowing the house is empty, I can’t get myself to walk back inside. The place feels tainted with lies a
nd realizations I’m not ready to face at this moment. We need to get out of here, and I need to figure out what happens next.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I SHOULD HAVE just stayed at Hunter’s for the night, but instead, I asked him to watch Gavin so I can go finish what I started this morning. Cupcake and all.

  In one day alone, my entire universe has flipped upside down, and the shock of it is making me feel exhausted and sick.

  Whether this is right or wrong, I’m not sure I have the ability to care right now. I have done what’s right for two years. For the second time in my life, I got a woman pregnant, and this time, I really wanted to do the right thing, because I wasn’t going to allow another mistake again.

  When Cammy got pregnant, I had no say over the end result. With Tori, I quickly realized that if I wanted any hope of having a say in the matter, I would need to make a drastic move. Tori could have changed her mind at any point during the pregnancy, and even though I convinced her to keep the baby, I wasn’t sure her decision was final. I even spoke with a lawyer. He told me I didn’t need to marry her in order to fight for full custody if it came down to it, but I wanted to make things work between us. I wanted to be a good husband and dad—show her our situation wasn’t as bad as she was making it out to be.

  Everyone thought I was doing the “right thing” by marrying the woman I knocked up, and it was the right thing, but some of the reasons we were getting married always felt wrong, even though I tried to convince myself otherwise. I had fallen for Tori, and I loved her. We had a good thing going, but that spark—the one I always had with Cammy—hadn’t settled in my gut just yet. I was waiting for something inside of me to say, “She’s the one you can’t live without.” I had a rather bad track record of falling for the wrong women before Tori, and part of me wondered if it was because the one woman I was supposed to be with got away when I was only eighteen. If we’re only allowed one true love, which I think is bull, I guessed that for me it was Cammy.