Need some time alone

Need some time alone


He left the bed and started dressing throwing on some sweatpants and a shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to go outside now," he said weakly.

"Outside? But it's cold out there. Ethan, stay here with me and talk about this. You have to talk to me!" I begged him.

He acted like he didn't even hear me, but I think he did because he came over to where I was sitting up in the bed and touched my head. Very gently and for just a moment, but I felt him shaking. His hand was shaking violently, and he looked so lost. I reached my hand up to take ahold of his but he pulled it away out of my reach. Then he walked out of the bedroom.

"Ethan!" I called after him. "Where are you going? Come back here and talk to me!"

I got silence.

I laid there for a moment and tried to decide what to do. Part of me wanted to confront him and force him to share with me, but another part of me was scared to death of doing that. What if I caused him more pain and suffering, or made things worse for him? Ethan needed some professional help to deal with this. If he'd been captured and tortured while in the army, then he was most likely suffering from a full-blown post-traumatic stress situation. I should know about that.

I made my decision and dressed myself in some leggings and a sweater to go and find him. I shouldn't have been surprised to see where he was. He'd told me the truth. He was outside. Smoking his clove cigarettes.

I stood behind the glass and watched him for a moment. Stretched out in the lounger, his bare feet hanging off the end because he was so tall, the curl of smoke twisting and floating above him, the bright city lights in the foreground creating a glow around his body.

The smoking didn't bother me, really; it never had. I loved the way his brand smelled, and Ethan rarely tasted like cigarettes. He was a fanatic brusher and always tasted minty and good to me, but the spicy scent would cling to him and I could tell when he'd been having a clove. His brand of cigarette wasn't typical, though Djarum Black. Clove-spiced tobacco, imported from Indonesia. I still didn't know even why he smoked cloves. Ethan wouldn't talk about his smoking much or his dark place with me.

My Ethan was certainly in his dark place right now, and it utterly broke my heart to see him this way. I slid the door open and stepped outside. He didn't acknowledge me until I sat beside him on the other lounger.

"Go back to bed, Brynne." "But I want to be with you."

"No. Go back in the house. The smoke isn't good for you or the baby." His voice was eerily detached and scared the shit out of me.

"It's not good for you either," I said firmly. "If you won't let me be here with you, then put out the cigarette and come back inside and talk to me. We need to talk about this, Ethan."

"No." He shook his head in denial and took another deep drag on his clove. A cord snapped inside me and I got angry, but I needed to do something to get a reaction out of him, he was so separated from me right now. "This is such bullshit. Ethan! You need some help with these nightmares. Look what it's doing to you!"

He didn't say anything, and the silence between us screamed out against the city's night sounds.

"If you won't talk to me about it, then you need to find a therapist or a group or something to get you some help in dealing with this." No reaction, just more smoking. The red tip of the black cigarette burned in the dark and still I got nothing back from Ethan.

"Why won't you answer me? I love you, and I'm here for you and you won't even tell me why you smoke cloves, let alone what they did to you in Afghanistan." I leaned closer to him. "What happened to you over there, Ethan?"

I could hear the panic in my voice and knew I was close to another crying spell. His behavior hurt me terribly and made me feel like I wasn't important enough to share in working through his biggest fear. Ethan knew all my deep shit and said none of it mattered to him. Didn't he know I'd walk through fire for him? I'd do anything to help him when he needed me.

He carefully stubbed out the cigarette he'd been smoking, using the ashtray next to the lounger. He folded his hands in his lap and stared out at the city. He never looked at me once as he started to speak in a soft voice. "I smoke them because all my guards had cloves. Hand-rolleds of spiced tobacco that smelled so fucking good I nearly lost my mind. I craved to have one. I nearly went insane with craving them." I froze in the chilled night air, listening to Ethan, my heart breaking with each word he gave me.

"Then...on on th-the day they were going to execute me, a miracle happened... and I was spared. I lived. Their wicked blade did not find my neck."

His voice cracked. "Blade?" I had an idea where this was going, but was afraid to even think about what Ethan might be trying to explain to me. "Yeah. They were going to videotape my beheading and show it all over the world." he spoke so softly but the words were brutally loud.

Jesus Christ! No wonder he had nightmares. I couldn't even imagine what he'd endured physically as they tortured him, but the emotional torture of be- lieving what they would do to him must have been worse. I couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped, wanting so badly to hold him, but he continued speaking.

"You want to know what the first thing was that I asked for?"

"Tell me."

"I walked out of my prison, not completely sure if I was really alive, or dead in hell. A U.S. marine got to me, shocked I'd walked out of the rubble still breathing. He asked me if I was okay. I told him I wanted a clove cigarette." "Oh, baby..."

"I was alive, you see, I lived and was finally able to smoke one of those lovely clove hand-rolleds I'd gone mad over for weeks. I smoke them now... be- cause... I guess it helps me to know I'm really alive that way." He swallowed hard. "It's such a load of shit..."

"Oh. Ethan I moved up from the lounger and over to put my arms around him but he held me back...

"No," he said, holding his hand up to keep me at a distance. He seemed so very distant from me right now unreachable. I wanted to cry, but I knew that would just make it harder on him, and I didn't want to cause him any more stress than he already had.

"Go back inside, Brynne. I don't want you out here with me right now. It's bad for you. I'm not...good... to be around, I need to be alone." "You're sending me away?"

He slowly lit up another clove, the flame of his lighter glowing bright as the tobacco ignited. "Just go back to bed, baby. I love you, but I need some time by myself right now."

I felt something from him. I couldn't believe it, but I could swear I was reading him correctly. Ethan was terrified of doing something to harm me somehow and that was the reason he asked me to leave him alone.

I granted Ethan his wish even though it broke my heart to do it.