Serrated Edges

Chapter 7

The rain outside now pours in torrents. The wind lashes against the glass doors, shaking them.

Going home to Laguna is impossible now. He would have to stay a while longer at her condo. He glances to see that her door is ajar. He can hear her moaning in her sleep.

He wonders if she ever gets to sleep.

He knows he hasn't had a decent night's sleep in the last two years.

RJ sits on her couch outside her bedroom door and turns on her television. There is an evangelist saying we should all repent for the sins we have done. RJ chuckles. After all, he hasn't opened his Bible in the past year. There were lies in there. He scans infomercials selling the latest chopping knife that looks like every other knife on the market. There are weight loss shakes and more exercise equipment. Even more lies. Then he lands on a channel that has gone off-air. He settles on watching the static. Its soothing hum fills the room.

He rests his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.

An hour later, he hears her call for help through the half-opened bedroom door.

It is 2 in the morning and she is screaming. She seems to be fighting against walls that threaten to close in on her. She fights against shadows that crawl to her from underneath the bed, from the shadows coming out of the closet. He hears her thrashing about.

Despite himself, he gets up and runs into her room in a panic.

He finds her pounding on the sheets, eyes shut. He has never heard her wail in such pain before.

She is in the middle of a nightmare.

He sits on the edge of the bed and struggles to hold her as she shakes for minutes on end. He feels her heart racing. Her sweat drenches them both.

He gathers her even deeper into his arms as she sobs. Her skin against his feels strange yet intimately familiar.

Suddenly, it dawns on him. It is the first time he's held her in two years.

She continues to cry and curse God. She pounds on her pillow until her fists hit the headboard and she winces in pain. Suddenly, her body slacks off and she mumbles what seems to be a prayer. This is strange to him. She does not usually pray. God knows he hasn't prayed in a long time as well. Still, he holds her closer so he can make out her ragged words.

Please God, she whispers.

Tulungan Mo siya.

He is a good man.

Lord, please take care of our baby.

I'm sorry, Rose.

I'm sorry, baby.

I'm so so sorry.

Mommy is so sorry.

She sobs harder. She screams in pain for both of them, and all he can do is hold her. She exhausts them both.

Jill is waiting for him in a soft, warm bed tonight, but he cannot will himself to leave. The guilt starts to wash over him. Even in her most desperate prayers, she wishes nothing for herself. Even in her most pained pleadings, she still prays for him.

He knows he does not deserve a single verse.

As Maine settles peacefully in his arms, he glances over the pill bottle at her bedside. For a moment, he glimpses the depth of her pain that has driven her to this. She feels the pain of their grief for the both of them. She always has. This is the pain he has never dared to face head-on. I'm a f*cking coward, he thinks. I will f*ck women into oblivion, I will work myself to death, I will throw myself into acting because I cannot deal with the pain of losing Rose. But Maine has. She has looked into the abyss, and the abyss crawled out and consumed her. She has paid for it dearly. She has paid for it nearly every night in the last two years.

He looks at Maine's tear-streaked face, now gently running his hand through her damp, matted hair. This is what wreckage looks like. This is the face of the woman whose life I helped destroy.

The sobs have ended now. She stirs and wakes up. Her eyes widen as she realizes that RJ is in bed with her, holding her.

Andito ka...

You had a bad dream.

She struggles to free herself from his arms and stands up from the bed.

Kelan pa ito, Meng?

She shrugs her shoulders. She walks over to the door and swings it wide open.

Please go, RJ.

Ba't wala kang sinabi sa akin?

About what?

Mga nightmares mo.

Bakit pa?

She needs the pills again. God knows she needs the pills now, and if she doesn't get them, she will get a drink.

She holds the door even wider for him. He is still on the bed, searching her face in the weak light of her nightlamp.

Alis ka na. Please.

Please go because I need a drink. I need a drink right now. Her mind races. Vodka, rum, whiskey, gin. There must be some left at the bottom drawer of the kitchen. Or in her wardrobe. She doesn't care what's available. She just wants a drink. Or two. Or ten if that's what will numb her through the night.

He falls quiet, his heart beginning to feel the grief that he had run away from for so long.

Please RJ, she whispers. You have to go.