Chapter 26

Bobby entered the room to see Constance lying on her side, on top of the covers. Her knees were bent a little, and pulled up a bit. Her head was on his pillow. She looked so beautiful lying peacefully there, that his heart wrenched in his chest. Tears came to his eyes and almost immediately overflowed, making twin trails down his cheeks. He felt the urge to turn and go back, even if that meant he had to face the twins. He couldn’t suppress a sob.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head.

“There you are,” she said.

He balled up his fists and rubbed his eyes, like a little boy. He tried to choke back more sobs, but couldn’t.

She was suddenly up, her arms around him. She didn’t say anything, merely held him and moved him inexorably toward the bed. When they fell on it together, he felt like his bones might break. Bed was the last place he needed to be with this woman. But her arms were stronger than his were capable of being, just then. He felt her kissing his hair, and her free hand pulled at him, in different places, making him adjust until they were lying side by side, with one of her arms under him. She hugged him tightly, still not saying anything, and her hands simply stroked up and down along his backbone.

His mind just shut down. It was too much to deal with and he retreated to a place where nothing could touch him. He was, clinically catatonic, at that point in time. His sanity lurched into a tiny box, and pulled the flaps in after it. Eventually, his stiff muscles began to loosen, little by little, until he was limp. His wracking sobs waned, until he was only breathing deeply.

Constance held him, her own mind whirling. What had devastated this man to this degree? She had a sudden fear that one of his children had died, but then she was sure some word of that would have come to her. It was too small a town for something like that to go uncirculated. He was calming, though, so she just held him.

When she realized he was asleep, she let herself go back to sleep too, still cradling him in her arms.

One reason sleep is so important is that sleep allows the mind to process things ... to reflect and examine various information and problems without the distractions the waking mind has to deal with. The unconscious has ways of looking at things more dispassionately than the conscious mind can.

While he slept, Bobby’s mind began sorting out the plethora of sharp and spiny thoughts, and started the procedure of dulling their razor edges and points. Concepts were categorized and filed together, like pieces of one of the jigsaw puzzles Bobby enjoyed working on so much. As the pieces fell into place, the concept took form. Some synapse sparked, and Erica’s voice said, “You love her” again. Bobby’s mind viewed the image of Constance, standing quietly and gazing at him, and finally agreed. His subconscious spoke to the vision of the woman and whispered: “I love you.”

Bobby woke. He felt lethargic, but his senses detected evidence of the woman pressed against him instantly. He smelled Connie. His eyes opened to see her sleeping face. His skin felt her arms, still around him. The reading light was still on. There was no window in his room, so he had no idea what time it was, or whether day had come outside.

There was a dull ache in his chest, but it was infinitely more bearable than what had wracked him, body and soul, last night. Something niggled at his mind. His dry mouth and complaining bladder made it impossible to think. Based on that, he decided it was morning. He wanted nothing more than to lie here like this, with her against him, forever, if possible. But he knew that couldn’t be. Resignation had begun to take root in him. She had gotten over the loss of Tim. He could get over the loss of her. Knowledge that she would be happy again was a huge boost to his resolve to help her do exactly that.

Her arms tightened as he tried to get up, but he slipped out of them as she made signs of waking. His shoes were still on, and felt heavy on his feet as he went quickly to the bathroom. To avoid splashing, he lowered his jeans and sat. It was while he sat there that something new popped into his head. She was here! She had left her new lover to come see about him! It was astonishing. She was sitting up, rubbing her eyes when he came out of the bathroom.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I knew something was wrong,” she said. She yawned, and became more alert. “What is wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked. “Answer me, Bobby. What’s wrong?!”

“He might not understand,” said Bobby, feeling like he might have ruined something for her.

“Who might not understand?” asked Constance. “What are you talking about, Bobby?”

“Jeff ... Professor Hamilton.”

“What?” Connie looked confused. “Would you please tell me what’s going on, Bobby? I was so worried about you.”

“Connie,” he pleaded. “I saw you with him. I heard what you said. He won’t understand if you leave him and come to me like that. You were here all night, Connie! He won’t understand!”

Constance’s mouth fell open. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, of any kind. She began to worry that he was having a breakdown of some kind. If that was true, she didn’t know how to act. What should she say? Should she try to get him to go to a doctor? She needed time to think. To try to get it, she decided to just try to keep him talking.

“Jeff won’t mind,” she said, trying to attack his apparent fear that the professor would be angry, about her spending the night in Bobby’s room. She didn’t much care who got upset about that. Bobby had needed her, even though she didn’t actually do anything, and she was glad she’d been there. He was acting strangely, but he was much calmer than he’d been last night. She didn’t know what Professor Hamilton had to do with anything, but that seemed to be Bobby’s current fear, so she tried to reassure him. “He was talking to my mother, and your mother, when I left. He wasn’t unhappy at all.”

Much as Erica Bradford’s world had moved and twisted, as things happened to her that required she view the world from a different perspective, now Bobby’s world jerked a bit. Why hadn’t Jeff come with her? How could he let her go off alone, looking for another man?

While he thought about that, Constance was thinking again about what Bobby had just said. He’d seen her with Jeff? He’d heard her talking with him? All they’d talked about was the fountain grass in the back yard. She couldn’t understand why that would get Bobby upset.

“Bobby?” She watched as his eyes focused. “What did you mean about seeing me and Professor Hamilton?”

“I saw him take you behind the shed,” said Bobby. There, that should give her the opening to explain that something wonderful had happened.

“Yes,” she said. “The sprinkler came on next door, and it was going to get us wet.” She acted like she expected him to continue.

“And when you came in,” he said. “Before you turned the light on, I heard you planning to have babies.”

“Babies?” Her voice went up. She looked shocked.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” said Bobby. “I was just sitting there.”

“Bobby, I don’t know what’s happened to you, but he never said anything to me about babies.”

“He said he was going to fertilize you,” said Bobby. “You said you wanted lots of babies.”

Like a light had gone on, Constance saw the whole thing. She couldn’t remember the exact conversation, but she knew what it was about. She thought it was funny that Bobby had misunderstood, but then his reaction to what he’d heard exploded into her mind, and it wasn’t funny any more.

She stood up and walked to Bobby. She took his hands in hers.

“We were talking about fountain grass, Bobby,” she said softly. “It’s called Pennisetum Setaceum.” She sounded proud that she’d remembered the name. “We have some growing in the back yard, and it wasn’t doing very well. I was afraid it was dying. He looked at it and he was telling me how to get it to grow again. What you heard was him saying he’d help me get it healthy.”

Bobby blinked.

Imagine, for a few seconds, that a doctor has told you you have cancer, and that you’re going to die. Imagine working through that to the point where you accept that death will come. Then imagine the doctor coming back to you and saying, “Gee, I’m sure sorry about this, but the X-rays I was looking at belonged to someone else. You’re actually fit as a fiddle.”

It’s more than a light turning on. It’s more like the overwhelming brilliance of a nova. It buffeted Bobby like the spectacular death of a star overwhelms all within its reach. He felt like he was expanding, like that star, and then he collapsed back in on himself.

“He’s not your lover?” Bobby’s voice sounded like a little boy’s.

“No, Bobby,” said Constance softly.

He felt shame so deep and so intense that he couldn’t face her. He had to turn away. Only the fact that her denial made him feel like he could actually be happy again kept him from bawling.

“Was that what this was all about?” asked Constance.

His head nodded, but he still looked away from her. He felt her hands on his shirt, pulling, trying to make him turn.

“I’m sorry,” he moaned. “I was so stupid!”

She insisted that he turn and face her. His eyes rose, and when they saw hers ducked back down.

“I was so worried about you,” she said.

“I know,” he whined. “I’m really sorry. I thought you were going to go away with him, and I’d never get to see you again.”

“Do you feel better now?”

“Uh huh.” He still sounded young.