“Care to share what that’s about?”
“Ryot realizing that maybe he’s not as perfect as he likes to think he is.”
“Something happen while I was gone?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” She pauses. “Want to go for a walk? Or a drive? We can go down to the beach for the sunset, have dinner on a blanket, real romantic shit?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. You can’t stay in this room when you’re feeling like this. Let’s get some fresh air, get you moving, and get you out of his shirt because I can’t imagine that’s helping the situation.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I say, “I miss him, Nichole. I miss the old Ryot. The one who used to wake me up in the morning by pressing light kisses all over my face until my eyes opened. I miss the guy who would come home wearing a giant smile just because he saw me. I miss the man who would control me in bed, but then treat me like the most precious thing he’d ever held in his hands afterward. He’d scoop me up, take me to the shower, and wash me himself. He was gentle, caring, and loving. He’s just . . . cold now.”
“I know, sweetie.” She lies down on the bed behind me and puts her arm around my waist. “I miss the old Ryot, too.”
RYOT
“Did you know Myla was taking classes?” I ask Banner as I let him in the house. After Nichole and Myla snuck out, I invited Banner over because . . . hell, I’m lonely.
“Classes? What kind of classes?”
Great question.
If only I knew.
“Not sure.” I pull on the back of my neck. “Just classes.”
“Uh, no, why would I know that?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh as we head toward the backyard.
“Seems like something you should know. Oh hey, éclairs.” Banner walks over to the counter, where I see the plate of éclairs I left in front of Myla’s bedroom door. “Why is there a note on them that says ‘no thank you’?”
“There is?” I step up next to Banner and take the note. “Fuck,” I mutter.
“Uh-oh.” He lifts an éclair to his mouth and takes a bite. “Am I guessing these were for Myla, but she didn’t accept them the way you wanted her to?”
I lean against the counter and fold my arms over my chest. “I made them for myself after frustrations from yesterday, and when she tried to grab one, we got in a fight, and then she claimed I don’t listen to her. I told her I did—”
“And I’m assuming this is where the classes come in.”
“Yeah, she asked if I knew what classes she was taking. I didn’t, so I gave her the éclairs as an apology, and apparently, she’s rejected them.”
“Brutal.” He picks up another and heads to the back patio. “Dude, nice TV.”
“Do you even care about what I just told you?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I can do anything about it.” Banner takes a seat on the outdoor L-shaped couch. “All I can say is that it seems like the plan is working.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, taking a seat as he picks up the remote and turns the TV on.
“I mean, isn’t this what you wanted? To have her slip up here and there for you to learn things, so when it comes to the wedding, you’re prepared and ready?”
I pause and then bring my leg up on the couch. “Huh, I guess that was the plan.”
“So it worked. You got a nugget. She claimed you don’t listen to her, she proved her point by the whole class thing, and now you just need to file that away as information learned and continue to move forward.”
“Yeah, but she only said that to prove a point because she was mad.”
“Exactly. When people are angry, they lower their defenses and try to make the other person feel bad by stating the truth. It’s common in arguments. She let the truth slip when you fought the first night, when she handed you the papers, and just now. She fights with her emotions, not her brain. When she’s calm and collected, she’s guarded, and there’s no way you’re squeezing info out of that vault. So keep pushing her.”
I guess I never thought about it that way.
It makes sense. She locks up her feelings, thanks to her abusive mom. But when she’s upset, to her very soul upset, she lets her guard down, and that’s when the true emotions come out.
“I just don’t get why I’ve got to make her upset to gather information. Can’t I just do nice things for her? Show her that I still love her?”
“That’s all show, man.” He stops on reruns of Boy Meets World. “Sure, you can offer her éclairs and bring her flowers and all that bullshit, but at the end of the day, that’s not getting to the root of the problem, and the root of the problem is in her head. You need to crack that open the only way you know how—when she’s emotional.”
“I guess so,” I mutter. “I don’t like it, though.” I hate seeing her hurting. I promised her I’d never hurt her.
“Yeah, well, going into this marriage, into this relationship, you knew she didn’t function like everyone else. You knew she was carrying a lot of baggage, and you knew the struggles you’d face when it came to communication. As someone who has never been abused, who has never seen the back of a parent’s hand, you can’t comprehend how that individual is supposed to function. They have their own techniques, their own way of walking through this world so they’re not reminded of the distrust they encountered. Is it dysfunctional? One hundred percent, but sometimes you simply meet someone at their own level to get them to open up. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s called being an understanding human, even if you don’t agree with their approach.”
“I’ve always understood her, Banner. I’ve never once held her childhood, her past against her, but I’ve also felt like we’ve made strides toward better communication while being together.”
“You have,” he answers and finishes off his éclair. “But do you know what’s interesting?” He licks his finger. “When people feel threatened and out of control, like they’re spinning, not even the strongest humans can revert to new coping behaviors. They revert to the patterns of behavior they know best. And even though they’re not handling their emotions appropriately, they’re still managing, they’re still breathing, and they’re still walking along in this world.”
I tug on my hair. “Yeah, you’re right. And if I put myself in her shoes, she’s told me time and time again that I’ve saved her from her thoughts, from her negative feelings. If I did something wrong, causing her to lose comfort previously found in me, that trust, she’d roll back to old habits. That means shutting down, and no amount of thoughtful gifts or actions will change her mind.”
“Yup.” He drapes his arm over the back of the couch. “It’s why Nichole is out here, because she’s a solid in Myla’s life. She can count on her. She needs that right now.” Banner glances in my direction. “So maybe be fucking nice to her.”