Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
“She, uh—” He cleared his throat. “She got tangled in the sheets. Woke up terrified.” He sighed softly, tiredly. “Had an accident.”
It was utterly depressing that this sweet woman had gone through so much in her short life that becoming tangled in sheets posed a threat, to frighten her enough into wetting herself. It killed me to watch her refuse help.
I was a qualified social worker. I had resources, if she would only reach out and take what was offered. At my fingertips, I held the best of the Australian mental health system. But I understood fear better than anyone, and what it could do to a person was truly destructive.
“Maybe we can try again with the therapy,” I spoke quietly.
Julius let out a faint bark of laughter. “Yeah. Good luck with that. She barely speaks to me anymore. How you gonna get her to talk?”
My reply was honest and bleak at that. “I don’t know.”
He breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly on an exhale. As he passed me, he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Sorry we woke you.”
The next morning, I found Ana sitting at the kitchen table, opposite A.J., and when I shuffled in half asleep, she smiled. Sure, she didn’t talk much anymore, but she was still as kind to me as she could allow herself to be, and if a smile was all she could spare, I’d gladly take it.
I squeezed her shoulder gently. “Morning, Ana.” Pausing by my son, I bent at the waist and wrapped an arm around him, pressing kisses to the side of his neck. “Morning, honey. Are you hungry?”
He made a face before wiping at his neck. He was a little boy, after all. “No. Ana made me toast.”
My eyes smiled at her when I straightened. “Thanks. Can I fix you something?” In response, she returned my smile but held up her mug, telling me she had all she needed. I checked the fridge, and muttered, “Okay, well, I’m thinking bacon and eggs.”
At that, Julius stepped into the kitchen, looking sleepy and just woken. “I’m down for that.”
I snuffled out a laugh before turning back to Ana. “Do you notice he’s nowhere to be found until someone’s cooking?”
She turned to her husband, her eyes full of mirth, but simply sipped at her coffee. He sat by her, and with a harsh grunt and shrill squeak, her chair was dragged over to him. She put down her mug as he began to whisper into her ear. I discreetly watched them as I started to cook. Whatever he said had an effect. She began to nod slowly, closing her eyes, and when he pulled back, she lovingly framed his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. When she spotted the dark circles beneath them, her face fell and she leaned in, pressing soft kisses to his full lips.
Regardless of what Ana had gone through, one thing was clear. She loved her husband more than words could describe. A love like theirs was rare, rarer still to survive all they had. I adored them both, and even though they had their problems, I was rooting for them.
As I fried eggs in one pan and bacon in another, I threw some bread into the toaster, and when it popped, Julius stood, lending a hand and pulling out two plates.
That was when A.J. struck. “Why do you have nightmares?”
My entire being stilled. I know he was just a child, but we had spoken about this and he knew he had no business asking Ana such a personal question.
So when she responded, I was stunned.
It took her a while. Her voice was quiet and sounded husky from lack of use. “Because bad people did bad things to me.”
I heard A.J.’s chair squeak, and then he was walking over to her. When I glanced at Julius, his back was ramrod-straight and I knew he was listening. My son sat by the small woman and looked into her white, damaged eye. “Did they do that?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Does it hurt?”
Ana shook her head. “No.” She took A.J.’s hand and touched it to the scars by her eye. A.J. winced, but she smiled encouragingly. “It’s okay. I don’t feel it anymore. It’s numb.”
A.J. took her lead and pressed his small fingers to her face. When he suddenly dropped them and asked, “Why do you cry at night?” I very nearly died.
Wide-eyed and thoroughly confused by his ill-mannered conduct, I spun around and scolded him. “That is enough.”
But Ana put a hand up to me, letting me know it was okay. I couldn’t help but notice the way her hands shook as she spoke, as if it was taxing her greatly to use her voice, but she did that for A.J. “I cry because I’m sad, baby.”