When Time Stood Still

by K. S. Adkins

Nothing.

  I tried bringing home dinner but she refused to eat.

  Telling her about the progress at the center went unheard. Honestly, if I had to guess my bringing it up only served to piss her off. Time might as well be blind and deaf where I was concerned. Nothing I did made her happy. If she was cooking, I would come in to help but she’d push me away. She hadn’t slept on my chest in months; she no longer reaches for me in her sleep. I was living my worst nightmare, that my wife no longer saw me.

  I came home early today to find her sitting in the window with Bella sleeping at her feet. With the sun playing across her face as her fingers traced the glass, I simply missed her. She was so fucking beautiful; I wanted to scream at her to look at me. She needed to know that I was still here, that I still loved her. But there she sat alone, with a look of yearning that gutted me. We didn’t talk anymore, I had no idea what my wife needed and I was too afraid to ask.

  Quietly leaving the room, I head to the office noticing one of her portraits of me had been knocked over. So she wouldn’t hurt herself, I picked it up and put in the closet. I wasn’t quiet when I closed the door. I wanted her to know that I was home, to prompt her to come and find me. Two hours later, I couldn’t take it anymore and went back out to the living room to find her asleep in that fucking window. Picking her up under her knees, I carry her upstairs and set her in our bed.

  For a moment, her eyes opened and I saw for myself how lost my wife was.

  When she turned herself away from me, I was broken all over again because I didn’t know how to bring her back. Honestly, I wasn’t sure she wanted me to.

  Each night we shared a bed, a space meant for two.

  We had comfortable pillows that became a wall separating the other from uncomfortable silence. As the days blended into weeks, Drum continued his routine while I allowed myself to wither away. Lying here, I try willing myself to another place. But it’s impossible to do when I can hear him shift or breathe.

  I felt heavy, weighed down by my own grief. I was unsteady, ready to fall apart. The darkness laughed at me, told me I was weak and that Drum deserved better. He no longer reaches for my hand, so I keep them hidden. I no longer reach for his because I can’t find them.

  When he speaks, it’s at me.

  So I stopped listening.

  Doubt lives inside of me now. It’s evident in everything I do and don’t do. I’m afraid of myself, what’s beyond the front door but most of all, I fear he sees me for the mistake I am. I couldn’t say the words, just three of them. It shouldn’t be so hard to say, I need you.

  But when the words form on my tongue doubt shows up and in a loud voice asks me, but does he need you too?

  Silence was my answer.

  Because Time withdrew completely when I was around, I stopped coming home during the day to see her. Last week, I installed cameras throughout the house giving me the chance to see her from the center. She didn’t want me home that much I knew, but I couldn’t leave her there alone. By watching her, I knew she was safe. By watching her, I realized I knew a lot of other things too. They were always right in front of me, but I didn’t see.

  Before losing her vision she had taken dozens of photos of me with her camera. When her vision worsened she blew the photos up, framed them and hung them throughout the house. I’ve watched her walk by them hundreds of times. Recently, I demanded to know why she hung them at all but she shrugged then walked away.

  Today wasn’t like days prior. Each portrait she passed, she ran her fingers over. The one of me in Holland she stood in front of for five minutes tracing my face. Like she had vision, she knew exactly where to reach to find me.

  Only when I’m home she doesn’t reach at all. She doesn’t do anything.

  “It’s obvious, yet you can see it. When you disappoint, you really disappoint.”

  “Not now, dad,” I growl. “Allow me to disappoint you from another room when you leave this one.”

  “You’re not disappointing me, idiot,” he says sitting next to me. “You’re disappointing her.”

  “I’m disappointing everyone, aren’t I? You must be so pleased.”

  “Because I once made the very mistake you are now making, would it kill you to listen to me, just once?”

  “No,” I grunt standing up. “It just killed mom.”

  Over the years we’ve yelled, debated, and ignored each other. Not once had he ever laid a hand on me. Until I found myself pinned against the wall with him breathing fire in my face. Breaking free would be easy enough, but it was the grief on his face that stopped me. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. I loved your mother. I have only ever loved your mother. You weren’t there, you didn’t see it, and you sure as hell didn’t feel it. Every day she slipped further away and I allowed it because I thought it was what she wanted. Hate me for it, Drummond. God knows I hate myself, but look at your wife! She’s crying out for help! She’s crying out for you!”

  “She’s not crying,” I assure him. “I don’t exist to her anymore.”

  “Look at her!” he yells pointing at the monitor. “Jesus Christ, how can you be so blind? How is living with your eyes shut working for you? The woman in front of that picture is lost without you, Drummond. If you can’t see that she hung those pictures of you all over that house as a way to have you with her, then you are twice as blind as she’ll ever be.”

  Slamming the door behind him, I turn back to the monitor and watch my wife fold my laundry with tears running down her face. I watch as she takes my sweater burying her face in it. I watch as her body quakes with pain that I want to erase but don’t know how. Shaking herself of it, she wipes her eyes and finishes the laundry.

  This is Time’s routine.

  Every day she mourned and until now, I thought she mourned her sight. I never considered she could be mourning me.

  Pretending to have it under control for your father-in-law’s benefit was exhausting. When he showed up today, it was clear he wasn’t letting me stay in bed. He was here on a mission to drive me nuts and he was succeeding.

  “You look like shit,” he says picking up a limp piece of my hair. “Do you even wash it anymore?”

  I wasn’t admitting that I’d used the conditioner twice by accident. And because I did, it made my hair so soft it was greasy. “Does Drum bother to mention your clothes don’t match, or do you prefer walking around like a blind person dressed you?” If he kept this up I was going to shoot him. Okay so no, I couldn’t shoot him because I’d miss but I really wanted to.

  “My son doesn’t share gossip with me,” he says putting me in a chair. “So why don’t you enlighten me? Let’s start with you telling me why you stay cooped up in this hole.”

  “All those years working with assholes, how long before you realized you’d been bringing your work home with you?”

  “What are you so afraid of, Time?”

  “Leave,” I growl.

  “He misses you,” he says low. “Every day that you continue to shut him out, he misses you more.”

  “Get out!”

  “He’s lost without you,” he continues while opening the curtains and cracking windows. “Maybe you think you need him but you’d be wrong, it’s my son who needs you.”

  How do you explain that you feel selfish for wanting all of his time. Drum was creating a center because of me, yet I was stuck here. How can I be mad at him for devoting his time to doing something selfless? I wanted to be where he was. I wanted a voice. There was a great big world out there, but if I step out into it and get lost or hurt, it’s Drum it affects. When it came down to it, Drum would never know as he pulled away from me he was taking my sight with him. I would never be so selfish as to voice it. I’ve been selfish enough.

  “You aren’t deaf,” he says tossing something that hits me in the chest.

  “Don’t throw shit at me,” I threaten.

  “Or what?” he counters.

  Grinding my jaw in anger, I wanted to get up and slap him but
he kept moving around. He continued to pepper with me questions and accusations. He called me a coward and a baby. He told me to grow some balls and stick up for myself then he asked me again, “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Everything!” I scream. “Every fucking thing! Are you happy now, asshole? I’m afraid of everything! If I walk out that door and get hurt, Drum loses his shit. If I get lost, he loses his shit! If I—”

  “Blah blah blah,” he says. “Since when do you cater to Drum? He’s not blind, you are. He doesn’t know your limitations, you do. Jesus, do you even buy what you’re selling?”

  “Please leave.”

  “I’ll go,” he says coming to my side. “But I’ll be back. While I’m gone, remember he’s waiting for you to ask for help. Quit being blind to the problem and ask.”

  Ouch.

  He scored a direct hit with that one. As he moved away from me, I felt the loss but I also felt something else. The fire was back and it was burning bright. Kissing my cheek he says, “Chuck Norris has braille on his boots so even you know when he’s coming.” With that he closed the door while I stood there with my mouth open.

  “Good one,” I chuckle. “Asshole.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Letting out a scream, I clutch my heart while it threatens to explode. I thought he’d left, Jesus… then the door slammed and I heard his feet on the porch followed by the engine of his car. I felt between my legs, certain I pissed myself again only to find that I hadn’t.

  Look at me making progress.

  After dad chewed me out at the center, the following day he went to the house to do the same to Time. Seeing her fight back made me proud. It also told me the fire was still there, she just needed a catalyst. It’s been months since I’ve seen her that angry. Though I couldn’t hear the words spoken, I knew he was being hard on her. My dad did not do easy.

  You had to hand it to him he had the ability to piss people off.

  I call it being an asshole. He calls it people skills.

  Since his visit, she’s changed. She was trying again. The last two days I watched her walk out the front door with Bella and coming back in with the mail. From the moment she exited, until she walked back through, I imagined her being run over, lost, or abducted. Now I had to consider putting cameras outside too.

  Then she started pulling some shit I did not appreciate. It started with the mail which, was hard enough. But yesterday she didn’t come back through the door for two fucking hours. I was glued to the monitor, torn between leaving the center or staying put. Waiting on a contractor prevented me from leaving and when she walked in with groceries, I was equal parts relieved and furious.

  My wife left the house, ventured into the city alone and had not fucking told me. Had no intentions of telling me either. Giving her some credit, I called the car service and their records did not show a pickup. She lied to me. I did not like being lied to. Fine, we’d have to be speaking to each other in order to lie but, she left purposefully and that was as good as a lie. We had agreed if at any point she wanted to leave, she’d use the service. She hadn’t done that. She used public transportation.

  For the next few days, I watched her closely. I did not go to the center to watch from a monitor, instead I followed her every move personally. I had no words to describe her struggles. From boarding the bus with Bella, to picking out vegetables. Standing feet away, while she proudly pays the cashier with her card. Hearing her joke with the girl, because she wanted human interaction. Watching people stare and point at her. Wishing Bella would bite someone.

  Then I sit helpless as she walks up the driveway back into the house. All of Time’s emotions played out like a movie. Satisfaction, frustration, anger and even resentment. I feared resentment the most because I assumed she resented me.

  Be patient I told myself, allow her to be independent. My patience came to an end when I came home tonight and found her crying in the kitchen. She was on the floor holding a rag covered in blood trying to wrap it around her palm. In retrospect I could have handled it better but in that moment, it simply wasn’t possible. I’d had enough.

  “Jesus Christ!” I yelled scaring the shit out her and the dog.

  “I’m okay,” she says quickly trying to hide her hand behind her back.

  “You’re bleeding!” coming over to her I pull her hand out and unwrap it. She had a decent gash but it didn’t require stitches, thank fuck. “I was just going to grab a band-aid,” she says pulling away. “See, it doesn’t even hurt.”

  Like hell it didn’t. I guarantee her finger had a pulse, I could practically hear it. “How did this happen?” I snap when I shouldn’t have.

  “I was cutting up peppers for the stir fry—”

  Looking on the counter, I see that she used a chef’s knife not the knife that was approved for the visually impaired. “You used a sharp knife, Time! These aren’t the knives you’re supposed to be using!”

  “The other ones don’t cut anything, Drum! It’s like trying to cut down a tree with a butter knife!”

  “Then we don’t eat the fucking peppers!”

  “Why are you screaming at me? I’m okay!”

  “You’re always okay!” I shout in her face. “Are you ever not okay? God dammit do you not see you’re not okay? Why can’t you admit it? You think that I’m blind too? That I don’t see you crying, wishing I could help but you won’t let me in! I can see, Time, I can see everything!”

  Dropping her head, I notice Bella come to her side and when she reaches for the dog instead of me, I lose it. “You’ve been leaving the house without telling me. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? The world is dangerous for someone with their sight, you can’t afford to take risks like that!”

  “Right, silly of me to forget my disability,” she mumbles.

  “And if you had gotten hurt? What then? No big fucking deal?”

  “You would rather I not try? That I sit inside this house day after day and wither away? Or should I just patiently wait for you to come home and yell at me for trying to adjust to a life without sight? You shut me out too, Drum. You’re as blind as I am.”

  “Look at me, Time,” I ask nicely until she starts to shut down on me again. “Look at me!”

  Whipping her head up she balls up her fists and screams, “Why? I can’t see you! I can’t see your perfect face! I can’t see anything!”

  Lowering my voice and taking a step closer, I slowly reach out for her praying she wouldn’t deny me. “Let me be your eyes, Time. Let me see for you, let me back in.”

  “I never wanted to shut you out!” she screams. “I wanted you to remember what you promised me! That you’d never leave me behind, at the first opportunity you left me right here!”

  “You fucking told me to!” reaching for that God damn knife to chuck it, in my anger I miscalculated and ended up slicing my thumb half off. “Shit!”

  “Drum?” her voice quivers as she reaches for me.

  “Give me a minute,” I groan trying to staunch the flow. “I cut my fucking thumb.”

  Crawling over to me, she rests her head on my shoulder before sticking her hand out. “Would you like a band-aid?” Barking out a laugh through the pain, I pull her even closer with my good arm needing her next to me. Only Time could make light of a situation like this. Thus, proving her point, accidents do happen (to all of us).

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. “For everything, I’m sorry. I’m afraid for you, afraid for me. You’ve worked hard for this and it was wrong to put my fears on you.”

  “It was wrong of me to let you,” she says softly. “It was wrong of me to act one way when I was feeling another. I’ve trusted you with everything; I should have trusted you with this too. So, I’m sorry too, for letting you down.”

  “Christ, it took both of us bleeding on the kitchen floor to finally talk.”

  “Every couple has their problems, Drum.”

  “Was that a joke?”

  “Mayb
e,” she giggles.

  “Time, I don’t know why you aren’t screaming right now but my thumb has a fucking pulse and it hurts.” Bringing my thumb to her cheek, she leans into it and whispers, “I’m not okay, Drum.”

  “Time, sweetheart…”

  “I’ll do better. I know I can do better if you give me a chance. I can live without my sight, I can’t live without you.”

  “Time,” pulling her into my lap she wraps herself around me just like she used to. “You never have to live without me.”

  Sitting back up, she touches my face again and when she spoke, I felt how hard it was for her to say it. “I need help.”

  That’s when I knew, the easy acceptance she showed in the beginning was an act. The routine she needed but I denied her. She asked for adventures, to help at the center, to be with me and I said no.

  She had wanted to my make my life easier.

  Time didn’t want to be a burden and that’s why she shut me out.

  From that moment on, we’d be doing things differently, we had to. Time was stuck in the routine I wanted her to have, because I was afraid. To have a productive life, Time needed the chance to live.

  Oddly enough, it was my father’s advice that helped the most.

  You treat her like she’s handicapped when she is anything but. You can’t prepare her to be self-sufficient then rob of it. Quit babying her, son. Treat her as she was meant to be treated. As your wife, your friend and your partner. You did this for her, yes? Then why isn’t she involved?

  When I tried explaining the risk of her being injured was too high, he lost his shit.

  Oh bullshit! It’s you who’s afraid, Drummond, not her. Man up, for Christ’s sake and let her teach you something for a change. God, I failed as a parent… Did you learn nothing from me?

  He was right. Time had things to teach me and I needed to let her.

  The asshole, or as I call him, Dad, was at my door within minutes of Drum leaving for the center. Last night, after we both had our meltdowns the tension had lifted enough to talk. We had missed each other, were afraid, but didn’t know how to express it. I didn’t want to add pressure to him; I simply wanted to be his wife. He didn’t want to add pressure to me; he simply wanted to be needed as a husband. We fell asleep talking, with me on his chest and his arms around me.