He was silent in the elevator, too. When it dinged at our floor, it startled me.
I had to say something. The silence was going to drive me even crazier than I already felt.
“Do you want me to get you anything?” I asked him as we stepped into the foyer.
“Hmm?” He looked like he’d just realized I was still there. “Oh, no. Thank you. I need to make some calls.”
“I called your sister,” I told him. “And your brothers. I didn’t want them to accidentally hear about it from someone else, first.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.
“I didn’t mean to step on your toes. I just thought…since everyone would be waking up soon…”
“No, of course. That was…” He trailed off.
I waited to see if he would say anything else. I heard the clock on the mantle in the library softly chime the hour. It was three.
“Why don’t we get some sleep?” I asked, putting my hand on his arm. “There’s going to be a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Yes, you’re right. Of course. You’re right.” He nodded, but he didn’t move.
I’ve been afraid before. When I found out Neil had cancer. When he’d been in isolation after his transplant. But none of that had been as scary as the moment we were in, now, and I didn’t know how to deal with anything.
He shook himself out of the trance he’d lapsed into. “Go to bed. I just need time to myself.”
“Are you sure?” I already felt myself backing away from him. It was like his grief was some kind of repellent. I couldn’t get any closer to him, though I ached to help him.
He nodded.
What was I supposed to say? “No, I don’t want to leave because I feel like I shouldn’t?” I had to respect his needs, right? Even if it made me feel hollow and gross and like I was doing the exact wrong thing?
“Yeah. If you need me…” I didn’t finish. I turned and walked to the bedroom.
I wasn’t even tired.
Just being near Neil made me feel like I was intruding, having the closed door between us made me feel like I’d accomplished stepping back. But what was I going to do, when I was this keyed up? Stand in the middle of the room, paralyzed by disbelief all night?
I should have been tired, right?
His scream startled me, raised hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck. It was a sound born of unimaginable pain. The pressure of it had to have been overwhelming, and now that it had burst, it poured out on loud, raw bleats of agony. I clenched my hands together into one fist and pressed it hard against my stomach and the sinking dread I’d become too familiar with in the face of Neil’s emotional pain.
When his mother had died, he’d taken too many pills, not because he’d been suicidal, but because he’d been reckless. But now…
Panic clawed up my throat. I ran out of the bedroom, down the short hall to the foyer. I knew where he would be. The door to Emma’s old room, the one she’d used as recently as before her wedding, was closed, and light showed in the gap at the bottom. I reached for the handle.
The door was locked.
“Neil?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Can you open the door?”
He didn’t respond.
I tried again. “I just want to know that you’re okay. I’ll leave you alone, I promise, but I’m worried about you. Unlock the door, please.”
Still no answer.
Something in me snapped and filled my head with horrible scenarios. Neil could actually kill himself, and not through reckless pharmaceutical mixing to dull the pain. Losing Emma was like losing almost thirty years of his life. Nothing would distract him from that, and he wouldn’t be able to handle that loss of control.
I’d just lost my stepdaughter. I couldn’t lose my husband, too.