Read Online Chai Tea Sunday by Heather A. Clark - Free Book Online Page B

was obsessed with her memory and craved — no, needed, with every ounce of my soul — to be grieving with my husband. But he couldn’t give that to me. He couldn’t talk about what we had been through. Or
her
.
    â€œWhere are you, Eric? It’s like you’re standing there, but you’re not even here with me. Can’t you see I need you? That
you
need
me
?”
    â€œI’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere, although sometimes I want to.”
    â€œWhat?! Fine. If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just go?”
    Eric looked straight into my eyes, his gaze hovering somewhere between misery and madness. “I don’t
want
to go, but you’re making me feel like it’s my only chance at escape. The only way I’ll be able to breathe again.”
    â€œEscape from
what
,
Eric? From me? Our life together? The new world that we’ve been given? The one that doesn’t include Ella?”
    â€œStop, Nicky. Just stop. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m struggling to just move forward. But you constantly bringing up her name isn’t helping, because it only reminds me that she isn’t here anymore.”
    I searched his eyes, waiting for him to continue, the bitter rage encircling us and closing in.
    â€œBut what about me? I miss her. I need her. I don’t want to just forget her, like you want to do.”
    â€œI don’t want to forget her, Nicky. It hurts so much to talk about her. It just hurts too much. So, seriously, just
stop
talking about her.”
    I stopped, as he asked, and stared straight into his eyes. And then I delivered the blow that I knew neither of us would ever forget. “It’s like you didn’t even
love
Ella! Why do you want to forget her so badly? She was our daughter!” I hissed the words, seething and hurting. I had lost control of my emotions and my actions. My soul had collapsed when Ella’s heart had stopped beating.
    The callous insinuation having shot through the air like a bolt of lightning, I couldn’t take it back. He took two giant steps towards where I stood. Closed in on me, fists raised, and then punched a hole through our kitchen wall. He paused then, and hung his head, his shoulders slumping under the pain of my accusation. Eric said nothing, but it was the closest he had ever come to hitting me, and it scared both of us.
    Eric couldn’t look at me before grabbing his keys and screeching out of the driveway in his BMW M3, a recently made purchase my mother swore was designed to make him feel better.
    He disappeared for four days after that. I didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. Our conversations were forced and uncomfortable when he returned, ultimately reverting back to screaming matches when we couldn’t take the strain. It was as if we no longer knew how to talk to each other and occasionally yelled just to break the silence.
    We couldn’t even manage to be in the same room together. I didn’t recognize Eric or who he had become; the man I married was simply gone. I knew he felt the same way about me. To be honest, I didn’t recognize myself either.
    By the middle of the summer, we were no longer sleeping in the same bed. By fall, we were officially separated. The papers were signed almost nine months to the date of Ella’s birth and death.
    Neither of us wanted to keep our home, so we sold it to the first buyers to make us an offer. Belinda, our real estate agent, assured us it was a fair purchase price, with a reasonable closing date.
    â€œDo they have kids?” I asked her, as we signed the papers at our kitchen table. My heart was breaking as I asked the words, but I couldn’t help myself. For some reason, I needed to know.
    â€œTwo,” she said softly. “A little girl who is six and a son who is two.”
    I nodded, blinking back tears as I continued to sign the paperwork. From under the table, I felt Eric