Rising From the Dust

by Adrianna M Scovill

  Chapter Three

  “Where’s Ben?”

  “He went to breakfast with Cindy, said to tell you he’d be back to take you to lunch for your birthday.”

  Gabriel nodded absently. “He was never an early riser,” he muttered.

  “He’s an adult, now,” Natalie reminded him gently. “Besides, he wants to spend time with her while he’s got the chance.” She hesitated. “Thanks for texting me. I was worried when I realized you weren’t here.”

  “Sorry,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair and, after a few seconds, started pacing. She could sense his agitation, but she held back, watching him, waiting to see if he wanted to say anything. “I went for a drive, and…I just…” He made a vague gesture in the air; his stomach was burning.

  “You ended up at your mother’s house,” she said into his silence. It wasn’t a question. He’d texted her at six—when he’d known she would be getting up to start her day; unlike Ben, she always had been an early riser, even on the weekend. They both were, which made life easier as a couple and as full-time teachers.

  So, he’d known she would be up. He’d known she would check on him and find the guest room empty. He’d sent her a text to let her know that he’d spent the night in his mother’s dark and silent house, so she wouldn’t worry needlessly.

  Needlessly? his mind taunted. You’ve given her plenty of reasons to worry, you selfish son of a—

  He stopped pacing and stared at her.

  She saw the look on his face and started toward him automatically. Her instinct, as always, was to comfort. Halfway there, her steps faltered, and her gaze sharpened. He shook his head.

  “What did you do?” she asked softly, her hand going to her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He chewed his lower lip, working it ruthlessly between his teeth as he tried to hold back his tears.

  “Gabe.”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. It seemed to be all he said, anymore. He wondered if the words had lost their meaning from overuse, or if they’d always been meaningless. “I didn’t—I stopped, I didn’t—But I did,” he amended, because the details were unimportant. His intent was what mattered.

  She knew what he meant immediately, and she looked for a moment as though she’d been slapped. He wanted to reach for her and refrained, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. “Well, you didn’t waste any time,” she said quietly. “I mention the word divorce and—” She cut herself off, pressing her lips together. After a beat, she said, “Although I guess I can’t blame you, can I? I am the one who said the word, after all.”

  “It isn’t like that,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. You know I would never—”

  “Was it a man or woman?” she interrupted, hugging herself.

  He opened and closed his mouth several times, before finally managing, barely audible: “Man.” He owed her the truth, as always, no matter how difficult.

  “I guess I should be grateful for that, at least,” she said. He hated the sight of her pain with every fiber of his being, and he hated himself for causing it.

  “I would never—” he started, but she cut in again.

  “Let’s not kid ourselves,” she said, glaring at him to keep herself from crying. “We both knew this was over.”

  “No.”

  “We couldn’t survive Ben leaving home,” she continued, ignoring his objection. “We held on as long as we could, but let’s stop pretending.” She turned away from him, starting toward the living room.

  “I love you, Natty—Wait,” he said, reaching for her, his fingertips brushing her sleeve as she tried to pass him. “The only thing I’ve ever been sure of is my love for you—”

  “Your love isn’t enough,” she said, whirling toward him with flashing eyes.

  All the air left his lungs. He couldn’t breathe; she’d knocked his legs from beneath him, and he dropped into the nearest chair, clutching at the edge of the table. The blood was suddenly roaring in his ears, and he thought dully, vaguely: Am I having a panic attack? Or actually dying? The world was spinning around him. He didn’t think he could speak, but then he heard his own breathless voice. “I’m sorry,” he said. The words were so small, so insignificant.

  He could feel the wave swelling up around him, crashing over his head and pulling him down into the cold depths, drowning him. He was unmoored, with no hope of finding his way to the surface.

  She dropped into a crouch before him, grabbing his cold and trembling hands. “Gabe,” she said. He tried to focus on her face, but she was spinning with the rest of the room. She turned his hands, lacing her fingers with his. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she said. She was crying, and he suddenly realized that he was, too. He managed to draw a ragged breath. Her hands felt warm against his, and he clutched at her fingers desperately, needing an anchor before he was lost forever.

  He knew it was unfair. It had always been unfair. She’d been the anchor that had kept him tethered to the ground, the person without whom he never would’ve survived. And he’d been an anchor for her—a weight, dragging at her, keeping her tethered to a life of unhappiness.

  “We made this life together,” she said, holding his hands as tightly as he was holding hers. He found himself able to focus on her face as he pulled in another shaky breath. “And it was good, Gabe. We have the best son in the world, we’ve been happy. We’ve been happy, haven’t we?” she asked, needing reassurance.

  “Yes,” he breathed. It was true. They’d shared their best and worst moments together. He’d never laughed harder in his life than with her, he’d never cried freely with anyone else. “But you deserve more,” he said. They were words that she needed to hear somewhere other than in the dark corners of her mind.

  She caught a sob in her throat and dropped her forehead onto his thigh beside their clasped hands. “I deserve more,” she whispered, barely audible. He could feel her trembling. Before he could think of anything to say, something more meaningful than another pointless apology, she spoke again: “And so do you. You deserve better than this, Gabe.”

  He shook his head even though she wasn’t looking at him. “I could never…find anyone better than you,” he said. “I’m so sorry I can’t be—”

  “No,” she said, raising her tear-streaked face to look at him. “You’ve struggled to be everything for everyone. You gave up yourself to make us happy—No,” she repeated when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “I let you do it. I hoped that one day, it would just be…enough. For both of us. It was, I think, for a long time. You, me, Benny. But now that he’s away at school…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

  They stared at each other through their tears, each of them feeling their heart breaking in their chest. He didn’t know if he could survive this pain—her pain. He pulled her up and forward, onto his lap; he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her familiar and comforting scent. He could feel her fingers at the back of his head, could feel her holding onto his shirt.

  “You have to live for yourself, Gabriel,” she whispered. “We’ve always been honest with each other but you have to be honest with yourself. Your parents are gone, honey. Your mother…is gone. Benny and I love you, but…you and I, we have to let each other go before it’s too late.”

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore,” he said into her collar. “What am I, Natty?”

  She took hold of his head in both hands and pulled him back, forcing him to look at her. “You’re Gabriel Santiago. You’re the man I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, you’re Benny’s father. You’re the teacher that every student loves. You’re the man who bent over backwards to make his mother happy, to make me happy, to give our son everything he ever wanted. You’re the smartest man I know, the kindest man I know, the funniest, the best. I love you, honey, but you have to love yourself.”

  How do I do that? he thought. How do I love the little boy whose arm was broken a
t the age of seven by his father for writing a love note to another second-grade boy? How do I love the young man whose mother said he would burn in Hell? How do I love a man whose own parents couldn’t?

  Natalie cupped her hands to his cheeks. “What if it had been Benny?” she asked quietly, holding his gaze. “What if we’d found out that he’d written a note to Jeremy or one of his other friends, telling him he loved them? What if you’d caught him trying on my lipstick or shoes? Or looking at naked men on the internet? Baby, your parents loved you the best way they knew how, but they were wrong. They were wrong. You are the best father I could ever hope for our son to have. You raised him to be and love and trust himself.”

  “And what do I tell him now? About his father…”

  “His love for you is not conditional,” she said, and Gabriel felt his face crumpling. She leaned forward and kissed his lips, pressing her forehead against his. “And neither is mine,” she murmured, holding his head as he cried.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice cracked and he held her—his anchor, always. “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh,” she told him. “It’s time to stop trying so hard. Take a step back, draw a breath, and let yourself feel, sweetheart. Tell me about last night.”

  He grimaced and tried to turn his face away. Guilt and shame swelled within him, and she could see both. She held fast, refusing to let him retreat. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t talk to you about that.”

  “I kissed Arnie in July,” she said.

  Gabriel’s breath caught, and he blinked in surprise. “Arnie?” he repeated. “Why…didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

  She smiled. It was a gesture filled with sadness, but not insincerity. “See?” she asked quietly. “It doesn’t really feel like a betrayal, does it?”

  He swallowed. Yes, it hurt, imagining her kissing the gym teacher. It hurt the most that she hadn’t talked to him about it. But more than anything, what her admission made him feel now was relief.

  “It was at the stupid Christmas in July faculty party. Under the mistletoe. It was quick, and it was supposed to be funny, but…”

  “It wasn’t.”

  She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t,” she agreed. She let out a breath. “I’ve never been with anyone but you.”

  “I know,” he said. He’d only been with three people before her, and that had been a lifetime ago. He lifted a hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. He knew her body as well as he knew his own. They’d shared the most intimate moments of their lives. It was strange to think of another man touching her; it was an uncomfortable thought, but it didn’t hurt as much as he might’ve imagined. “You’re as beautiful now as you were at twenty,” he told her. She offered a disbelieving laugh and shook her head. “You are,” he insisted. “Arnie’s a good guy even if he doesn’t have much neck,” he added, earning a more sincere laugh from her. Gabriel smiled. “Although now I know why he’s been avoiding me in the teachers’ lounge.”

  “We can talk about these things,” she said softly, again touching her hand to his cheek. “We can find a way. We’ve always been friends above everything, right?”

  He struggled to swallow. “It’s different,” he muttered.

  “It’s not,” she countered. “You told me about Chris.”

  “I was nineteen,” he said. His gaze dropped to her chin. “He was…We were just—”

  “That’s your mother inside your head,” she cut in quietly. “Tell me what you felt last night.”

  He drew a breath, forcing his eyes up to hers. He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to hurt her. But he knew she was right: they’d been friends for more than half of their lives, and if he couldn’t talk to her, then who? If she had feelings for Arnold Shafer or anyone else, Gabriel wanted her to be able to talk to him about it.

  “Alive,” he heard himself admit. He saw her lips curve into another smile; someday, the gesture wouldn’t be tinged with sadness. They would find a way to be happy, somehow. He had to believe that, or what was the point in continuing? “And…for a few minutes…free,” he said, wincing at the sound of the word. He bit back the apology that tried to chase it off his lips.

  “Alive and free,” she repeated softly. “What’s his name?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I won’t see him again. It was just…you know. He was just there. Someone.”

  “Hmm,” she said, unconvinced but choosing not to press the issue. “Let me up, I must be breaking your legs by now.”

  He chuckled, amazed that he could laugh while his life—as he knew it—was ending. He tightened his hold on her for a few seconds before releasing her. “You’ve lost weight in the last year,” he told her as she carefully got to her feet.

  “Have I?”

  He nodded. “Should I look for an apartment?” he asked.

  “There’s no hurry,” she answered. “There’s always the guest room, and…we made this home together,” she said.

  He shook his head. “You made it a home for us,” he countered. “And Benny will always have a place here. I’ll look for someplace close by, and…” He trailed off, because he really didn’t know what came next.

  She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “We’ll figure it out together,” she told him. “I love you forever, Gabriel, you know?”

  He nodded again, exhaling through his nose.

  ***

  “How long have you been sleeping in the guest room?”

  Gabriel looked up at Ben. He shouldn’t be surprised by his son’s observational skills, or his directness. Gabriel had been trying to prepare himself for this conversation, but he still had no idea what to say to his son.

  “A few months,” he answered.

  “What did you do?”

  “Do?” Gabriel repeated, but he wasn’t surprised by this question, either.

  “She’s been unhappy. I can even hear it in her voice when she calls. She tries too hard to hide it. This morning you were gone and she covered for you, but I know she’s been crying.” He paused. “So what did you do?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that,” Gabriel admitted quietly. It was the most honest thing he could say.

  “How about the truth?”

  “The truth is complicated.”

  Ben smiled—a humorless twist of his lips. “I’m not a kid anymore, Dad. Did you cheat on her?”

  It hurt that his son would think him capable of such a thing. “You might be an adult, but you don’t understand everything, yet,” Gabriel answered.

  Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’ll always be smarter than me,” he said, with uncharacteristic anger in his voice. Ben had always been even-tempered, but Gabriel couldn’t blame him for the anger that was now simmering within him—it was an anger borne in defense of his mother, whom he believed to have been wronged. Ben loved his father, but he would side with his mother, and Gabriel couldn’t fault him for that. “But I’m not blind. I know you’ve been unhappy, too. Maybe I thought I deserved to actually know what was going on, to be in the loop like I was part of this family or something. Guess not.” He turned and strode away toward his room.

  Gabriel wanted to call after him and pressed his lips together instead. He watched as Ben disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door with a soft click.

  Natalie’s bedroom door was closed, too. He could no longer think of it as his own room, as their shared room; he’d relinquished that right.

  Gabriel sat on the couch, alone. They were separated by walls, but it was his silence that had put the walls between them. His mind was reeling, and he couldn’t seem to latch onto a thought or feeling for more than a few seconds.

  But he could feel the sofa beneath him. His stomach was still full of worry, but it was manageable. He felt…okay. Reasonably grounded in spite of his flitting thoughts. He owed this—as everything else—to Natalie. Talking to her had given him hope that his world might change without being completely destroyed.

  He pushed to his feet and walked t
oward her bedroom. He hesitated before knocking lightly on the door.

  “Come in,” she said, and he slipped inside to find her lying on her back on the bed with her arm beneath her head. He closed the door and walked over to sit on the edge of the mattress. “You okay?” she asked softly. “I thought you were going to lunch with Ben.”

  “What do you say the three of us go out to dinner, instead?” Gabriel asked.

  She rolled toward him and propped her head on her hand. “Did he say something?” she asked.

  “He’s annoyed with me,” he answered. “But I’ll talk to him. As soon as I figure out what to say,” he added with a smile. “Are you alright? Do you need something for your head?” he asked, reading her face.

  “I took something,” she said.

  He tipped his head. “You’re out of Excedrin?” he guessed by her evasive answer. He knew that nothing else worked on her headaches.

  “It’ll be alright in a bit,” she answered.

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll run out,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” He saw her preparing an objection, so he added, “We need milk, anyway,” and he was glad to see her smile.

  ***

  Natalie knocked on her son’s bedroom door. He opened it after only a few seconds. She looked at him, suddenly struck by the emotion of seeing him framed in the doorway of his childhood bedroom. Some days, she missed him so badly that she couldn’t draw a breath. At the same time, she was filled with pride; she and Gabriel had raised one of the smartest and kindest men imaginable, and he was going to make a positive mark on the world. She had absolute faith in Ben.

  She had faith in Gabriel, too. He’d never meant to hurt her. He’d never meant to hurt anyone, and he’d spent most of his life bending over backward to be everything for everyone. She loved him too much to let him spend the rest of his life denying himself happiness.

  “Hey,” Ben said. He was surprised to see her, so he must’ve expected his father. At the sight of Natalie, his posture relaxed a bit. “Are you okay?” he asked, studying her face in much the same way as his father. He took after Gabriel in so many ways. Sometimes, all she could do was sit and stare at the two of them together, marveling at how lucky she was to have them in her life.