The Other P-Word(19)

"So you believe it's because she's tired?"

He threw a pot in the sink. It landed with a clatter. Thank goodness it  wasn't a plate. "Have you noticed how much she's yawning lately? It's  not just the pregnancy, or lack of caffeine. My theory is she's not  sleeping on purpose."

It took a moment to digest this. "To prevent a terror?"

"The other night was her third one. The other two were minor. A week  ago, I found her on the bathroom floor reading a book at four in the  morning. She said she wasn't tired."

"I don't understand how quitting her job is going to solve this problem."

"It won't, but it'll help. When we first got married, we tried a million  different things. She doesn't have terrors during the day if she takes  short naps. She can't do that if she's at work."

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay."

"Why won't she quit her job? I understand she wants to contribute, but some things are more important."

"You really don't get it?"

"No, I don't have a fucking idea. If you do, please clue me in."

"She has night terrors because of the rape. She hates that something  that happened to her such a long time ago is still screwing with her  life. Marley can't move on. Not completely anyway, because of the  nightmares. She keeps reliving it. She manages to make a life for  herself despite all of those things. But if she quits her job because of  it, then to Marley, it's like letting her rapist win. Letting him  control her choices once again. It's like … "

"She getting raped again," he finished, a look of anguish taking over his features.

"Exactly."

We worked in silence for a while, me handing him dishes and him placing  them in the dishwasher. He stopped our production line, staring out of  the window to some point in the horizon.

"You know the worst thing about this, Billie? It's all my fault. Every bit of it."

"How can it be your fault?"

He chuckled but it had no humor in it, dying in his throat with a  sadness that was airborne. "She wanted kids, but she didn't want to be  pregnant because she was afraid … of exactly this. She had a miscarriage  last year."

He'd just taken the plate from me otherwise, I would have dropped it. "Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded.

"You were taking final exams. Marley didn't want to worry you. We didn't  tell anyone except for your mom. No one even knew she was pregnant.  We'd hoped to make it through the first trimester before announcing it,  but we didn't get that far. Marley's doctor gave her a weaker  prescription and it helped. When the miscarriage happened, she blamed  the pills. To make matters worse, her OB wouldn't confirm it wasn't the  medication, since it's a new pill. I watched my wife suffer with that  guilt. Instead of supporting her, I suggested we try again. She did  it … for me. This time, she insists she won't take anything stronger than a  vitamin."

"Oh, Rick, I'm so sorry," I choked, trying to hold back my sobs. "But  you guys should have told me." I went to embrace him, but I also punched  his arm in the process.                       
       
           



       

"It was Marley's decision not to. If anything happens to her or the baby, it's my fault."

"It's not. Don't say that. Besides, Marley is going to be just fine. I'm going to be here to help you."

"Thanks, Billie, I appreciate that. I really do, but I'm cancelling all  my contracts for the rest of the year. I'm going to offer to  telecommute. I'll work from home and be here every day to watch over  her. I need to do that."

We finished loading up the dishwasher.

"Billie, thanks for talking to me. I probably shouldn't have told you all that, but I needed to tell someone."

"You can talk to me whenever you need to, Rick. When Marley married you, she got a husband but I got a great big brother."

"Thanks. I feel the same way." He finished wiping his side of the  counter then threw the dishtowel to me. "Don't worry about your job.  I'll need more help than ever now. We have to come up with a game plan  to make all my accounts happy."

My job hadn't even entered the equation, not when we were talking about  my sister's health. But just as he said it, I saw a solution-one that he  didn't, which was ironic, since Rick worked as a professional problem  solver, of sorts.

"Did you mean what you said about not needing me here to help with Marley at night?"

"I can take care of her. I need to do that, not just for her but for me.  I've actually developed some techniques to calm her down during an  attack."

"I have to make a phone call. I'll be right back."

When I returned, Mom, Stevie and Dillon were surrounding Marley, who was  clearly trying to fight back tears. Adam and Damien had taken the boys  to the park.

I clapped my hands loudly. "Hey, you guys, I have some dish."

"Dish is over," Mom said.

"That's not fair, I didn't get to share my news."

"I don't think this is a good time," Stevie said.

"It's a great time. I want to hear your dish, Little Bird," Marley insisted, heading toward the dining table.

Reluctantly, the others took their seats. "You too, Rick," I said, holding out a chair for him.

When everyone resumed their places, I cleared my throat, pressed my  palms to the table, and focused on Rick. "Dish-I'm quitting my job.  Consider this my resignation, boss." A stunned silence followed, so I  had no choice but to puncture it. "Say something."

"That's very irresponsible of you. Rick needs you," Marley said.

"It's not as if I'm leaving him in a bind or anything."

"You kind of are, but I don't even care right now," Rick muttered.

"I'm not. I found the perfect replacement. She has experience and you've even worked with her."

I could see when realization hit, for some faster than others. "That's  right. Marley can be your assistant. And it'll work out, because if she  needs to take a long break … say for a nap, or something, she'll have an  understanding boss." I turned to Marley, who graced me with one of her  I-know-what-you're-doing-but-I-like-the-way-you're-doing-it looks.  Classic Marley. "Plus, I'm sure they'll understand at your work that  your husband is in desperate need of help, since his current assistant  just up and quit without any notice."

I sat down, taking in a deep breath, ready to watch the mechanisms of my  spontaneous strategy work. Rick nodded at me, smiling with such  gratitude I almost choked up again when he mouthed the words ‘thank you'  before shoulder-bumping Marley. "Want to work with me again?"

"I don't know. You distracted me a lot last time."

"I can't make any promises when it comes to that, but I do know we make a great team … in every way possible."

Marley opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut again. "Wait, Billie, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Don't you need a job?" she asked.

"Oh, that's not an issue. It's the reason I'm quitting. I found something that interests me more. I'll be working at a bar."                       
       
           



       

"A bar?" Stevie asked. She'd remained usually quiet this whole time. It  only supported how worried we all were about Marley. "It's good to see  all that tuition money getting a stellar education isn't going to  waste."

Mom shot her a warning glance. "Billie is an adult. I'm sure she has thought carefully about her decision."

Yeah, about fifty-two seconds. The time it had taken for Evan to confirm the job was still open.

"I have. The tips are great, the people interesting and most  importantly, I'll be working nights so I can write during the day. I  think it'll give me some much needed … creativity."

Adam and Damien came in then, each carrying two boys without any  difficulty. They both looked relieved with the change in atmosphere. The  triplets started playing with blocks. Dillon, unable to resist the lure  of stacking objects, joined them.

"Hey, what's going on?" Adam asked.

"Billie's not working for Rick anymore. Marley is," Stevie recapped.

"Marley hasn't accepted the job yet," I pointed out.

"I'd be honored to work for you again, Mr. Randy."

"The honor is mine, Mrs. Randy," he said, kissing her wrist.

"Where's Billie going to work? Or is she just loafing again?" Adam asked.

"I never loafed."

"Any more loafing and we would have checked you for mold," Stevie said.

I turned toward him, answering the question. "For your information, I'll be waitressing at this bar on the north side of town."

Damien tilted his head. "The north side? How are you getting there?"