Christmas Coda 72

 Caz and Raleigh from THE LEMON DROP KID

 

It was dark when I opened my eyes.

The room was dark, yes, but outside was also dark. I knew I was in my own bed. In my own bedroom. Knew I was home. I felt a wave of relief and gratitude. I was never going to get over being grateful for normalcy. I could see stars shining through the window. See the pinpoint reflected gleam in Freyja’s eyes as she gazed toward the closed bedroom door.

There was a band of light beneath the door, and now that I listened, I could hear Raleigh’s deep voice speaking quietly.

My hearted started to pound in instant anxiety.

Which didn’t make sense, because everything was okay.

Everything was better than okay—unless something had happened while I’d slept, unless the D.A., the chief, Raleigh had changed his mind again—

The frantic, frightened drumbeat in my ears drowned out the sound of Raleigh’s hushed tones. I felt like I was smothering beneath the weight of fear. That was not survival instinct. It was PTSD. And it was going to take me a while to get over it even as I reminded myself of the last few hours.

Hours so lovely they felt like they had to have been a dream.

Never mind believing in Santa Claus, I was having trouble believing in happiness.

Freyja’s tail stirred on the comforter, the door opened cautiously, and Raleigh was briefly silhouetted in the doorway, before the door closed again.

I pushed up on elbow, said softly, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said quickly, apologetically. “I was trying not to wake you.” He climbed into bed, blocked Freyja’s enthusiastic greetings, and slipped his arm beneath my shoulders, pulling me toward him. I locked my arms around him, buried my face in his throat.

“My mom wants to know if you’d want to come to Christmas dinner.” He still sounded apologetic.

I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. I was fighting tears. Trying to conceal my reaction. So much reaction to every little thing. It was exhausting. Draining.

Freyja noisily snuffled the back of my neck, my ears.

“Freyja, don’t.” Raleigh bent his head lower to mine. “You okay, Caz?”

I nodded.

“Tell me,” he said gently.

I said thickly, “Just…reaction.”

After a moment he said, “Yeah, of course. That’s normal.” He kissed the top of my head, my ear, nudged my face so he could kiss my nose and then my mouth. Then my mouth, wet from the silent tears, again. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you.”

I nodded.

“I won’t ever let you down again.”

“I know that.”

He had to stop apologizing. I had to stop having panic attacks. It was all going to take time. But we had time. That was the important thing to remember. That was the thing to hold onto. Second chances.

I said, “I just want things to be normal again.”

“They will be.” His throat moved against my face as he swallowed. “It’s going to be a new normal that’s all.”

Freyja seemed to feel progress was not being made fast enough. She thrust her muzzle between my face and Raleigh’s, snuffled loudly, suspiciously, and then suddenly sneezed. Everywhere.

“Jeez, Freyja,” Raleigh protested, letting go of me, wiping his face.

I rolled over, laughing unsteadily, and Freyja, seeming to feel her work was done, settled against me and sighed.

I tugged gently on her silky ears. “What do you think of all this, Freyja?”  

Freyja licked my wrist.

Raleigh said, “Dogs live in the moment.”

I thought about that. “Sometimes in the moment is the last place you want to be.”

Raleigh resettled, pulled me closer.

I knew what he was thinking, and I said, “This is good moment to be in, though.” I tilted my face up, and in the moonlight, he looked so serious.

Raleigh said in that gruff voice he got when he was afraid his voice would shake, “This is the best moment.” It took him a moment before he could add, “I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of ever having a moment like this again.”

“Same.”

Like one of those schmaltzy tchotchkes: Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself!

True, though.

Very true.