Page 56 of Cut Off
“Can you tell me what it was? A bad dream?”
He nods.
My heart splinters. “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so sorry.”
“I want my mom,” he manages through a sob, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.
“I know you do.” My own eyes burn with unshed tears. “I wish I could bring her back for you. I really do.”
He’s shaking in my arms now, his small body wracked with silent sobs.
“Please stop touching me,” he chokes out between gasps for air.
I withdraw my arms and scoot away. “Okay, I won’t. I promise.”
He continues to shake, his breathing ragged. I don’t know what to do. Should I call someone? Zoe? The therapist?
No, this is my son. My responsibility. I need to figure this out.
“Is it okay if I sit here with you?” I gesture to the floor of the closet beside him. “I won’t touch you. I’ll just sit.”
He doesn’t say no, which I take as permission. I lower myself to the floor, keeping a careful distance between us. The closet is barely big enough for both of us, but I make myself as small as possible, giving him space.
“When I was a little older than you,” I say after a moment, “I used to hide in my closet too. After I lost a game, or when I was upset about something.”
Eli doesn’t respond, but his shaking seems to lessen.
“It felt safer somehow,” I continue. “Like a little cave where nothing bad could find me.”
His nod is almost imperceptible.
“Your Flash is pretty cool.” I nod toward the action figure still clutched in his hand. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that. Has he been with you a long time?”
“Mom gave him to me when I was four,” Eli whispers. “For my birthday.”
It’s the most personal thing he’s shared with me yet, and I treasure it. “He looks like a good friend.”
“He’s fast,” Eli says. “Faster than anything. Nothing can catch him.”
I understand the appeal to a kid who’s had his whole world ripped away. “It’s good to have someone you can count on.” My pulse still pounds in my ears as I try to think of what to say to this kid who makes my heart burst just looking at him. He stares at his knees, tears dripping onto his pajamas, and I realize I’ll never forgive myself for not being enough to keep him from breaking like this.
I’m about to ask if I can get him water or a blanket or literally anything, but then footsteps creak up the stairs, soft at first, then more urgent. Zoe rounds the corner, her face wild with worry, and freezes when she sees us huddled in the closet. All three of us just look at each other, me with my knuckles tucked under my knees, Eli clutching his toy like a lifeline, and Zoe, beautiful and terrified, clutching her phone in both hands as if she was about to call 911.
“Oh no,” she whispers. “What happened?”
Eli doesn’t answer, just keeps rocking, but his eyes flick up to her.
I clear my throat, raw and dry. “He had a nightmare.”
Zoe’s expression crumbles. She’s already exhausted: she’s spent all her extra time this week helping Maddie who got dumped by Hunter last Sunday. Something about how the writing was on the wall because of a soft scented candle as a parting gift. I have no idea, but Maddie sounds next-level quirky.
Zoe kneels, one hand splayed on the carpet. “Can I come in too?” Her voice is so gentle, I want to sob.
Eli nods, and Zoe squeezes her way in, maneuvering her limbs so she lands on the opposite side of Eli from me. She doesn’t touch him, just sits close enough that he knows she’s there, anchoring him between us.
Our knees almost touch in the tiny space. Zoe meets my eyes over Eli’s head, her concern sharpening her features. This is more than a run-of-the-mill bad dream—and I know what set him off. Earlier today, we finally got Rosie’s box of things in the mail, and he and I went through it together. He seemed okay at the time, but I guess not.
Maybe I fucked up letting him go through it, and the guilt gnaws a new hole in my chest. Zoe’s eyes flick away, and I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing.
