Great Oak Gazette

Noelle Bohac

Staff Writer

Opening his eyes like this was something he dreaded. The sheets beneath his back were wet once again, and the freezing, damp burn against his skin just told him how long it had been there. His body was sore; he’d felt weak for the past two years of his life, and hadn’t known a feeling of relief without a doctor’s word.

He ran a sweaty hand over his face. His calloused skin seemed to burn rather than soothe him. Tired fingers sank into his matted hair, pressing down into his scalp. He felt so tired, so limp, lying there like some wounded puppy. This wasn’t what his life used to be like. He would have never let himself lie still like this, at least not willingly. But the night felt cold once more. His heart was racing, beating against his chest like a lion in a cage, tormenting him with every pulse.

He sought relief, a sense of calm in the chaos that was in his head once again. His legs swung over the side of the bed, his shorts falling to his ankles after being bunched up for hours. He felt the carpet beneath his feet, and quickly got a dizzying headache. The doctors had given him prescriptions for this, and his therapist taught him calming methods…but nothing seemed to work. Nothing seemed to stop it. It was a feeling no medicine or fidget could stop.

It was only five in the morning. Work was about three hours away, but that was the last thing on his mind. Instead, he focused on the dark hallway of his apartment ahead, letting his tired legs carry him through the wide living room and into the kitchen. He reached for a cabinet before even stepping fully inside, his head hanging low and eyes sunken with exhaustion. It had become routine: grabbing the dull box of cereal instead of the bright, rainbow one beside it, pouring it into a bowl, then adding milk. Simple as that, and yet it seemed to go so slowly, every action weighing his shoulders lower to the floor. He took his medicine with a glass of water, chased it with some orange juice, and sat silently with his bowl. He stared at it instead of eating, lazily spinning the spoon through the milk with the tip of his finger…

The sudden stillness of his body had his heart racing again. Even in his exhaustion, his lack of desire for anything, and the constant voice telling him to relax, he felt the sweat sink into his shirt. Questions formed out of the calming phrases he had been taught, and his teeth clenched enough to make his head pound harder. He felt so afraid, his eyes darting back down that hall.

Before he even realized it, his cereal had doubled in size, the once-crisp flakes now
pale and floating around in too much milk to be enjoyed. He stared at it again for a long moment, his heart slowing again, a deep sigh pressing down the weight of his chest.

But his eyes darted back to the hallway.

He told himself everything was alright, that nothing was in the apartment, nothing
was threatening his home, nothing was doing anything. And yet he kept inhaling and exhaling over and over again, forcing his heart to slow, to stop slamming against his ribs and burning every attempt to relax!

As always, little came from the repetitive routines, the constant “relaxing” techniques his therapist and friends swore by. He pushed himself up from the chair, the seat sliding back almost silently, as if he were forcing it to not make a sound. His feet, guided by the pounding of his heart, brought him back down that hallway to the doorway next to his bedroom. A dim light of blue sang from the room like a breath of fresh air, and once again, for another night, that was where he stood. The apartment was silent, the only sound was the faint ringing in his ears that soon faded, replaced by soft, steady breathing. His heart slowed, his breaths evened, and his eyes stayed locked on the small crib across from him.

He stood in silence, watching from afar. It felt as if a shield blocked his way into the
room, like his mind was telling him not to step inside, not to a sound. Fear left his body in waves and relief washed over him like a warm gush of water. He was told to stop, that everything would be okay even when he wasn’t near him, but it all felt like nonsense. He knew the doors were locked, the windows were shut, and the crib was stable. He had the monitors, the lights and the security…and yet it wasn’t enough.

He had to check. He had to look through that doorway every hour and prove to himself that his child was still there, still breathing and still sleeping. Still safe.

Almost an hour passed, and he was still standing there. Silent. Not a word, not a movement, not a sound. Repeatedly, he spoke to himself: “He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s safe. He’s just as you left him two hours ago.” It helped, it helped quite a lot, but he knew that the moment he left that the restlessness would return. The nightmares, the constant worry…

He put a hand against the side of his face, his fingers pressing to the temple that was previously pounding. It had stopped, the muscles now unclenched. He let out a long sigh. In some ways, it never truly stopped, that constant worry. Even as he stood there, knowing full well he could pick up his son, hold him, and prove he was right there, he still felt the shadow of paranoia hanging over him. The knowledge that this was his son, and he could lose him at any time, with just one mistake, made his heart clench and made his skin pale to an unnatural gray.

It wasn’t healthy to feed himself so much unnecessary fear. That’s what people said.
But he knew they couldn’t understand. They couldn’t understand what he and she had been through, how much they’d struggled, loss after loss. How, when the time finally came, when he finally gave her the child she had always dreamed for, she hadn’t been able to wake and see his eyes. Hadn’t been able to feel those fingers wrap around her own.

Nothing they said could stop those memories—that lingering pain that had made a
home in his chest. After a full hour, his eyes finally drifted to his bedroom. It pained him to do so, but he knew he had to. The faint buzz of his phone caught his ear, the subtle light flickering on and off on its screen. Work was in an hour. That thought dropped like an anvil in his stomach. The nanny was coming, his boss was waiting, and yet all he could do was stand there, like one of the dead, completely unaware of the world around him…

But one glance at his son reminded him that the world was right in front of him…