Chapter 8

A few weeks later is when I noticed the first crack in the glass. That's really what I could best compare Jack to: a fragile worn out glass. On the outside he'd seemed so sturdy and put together, but slowly, as the blows took their aim at his easily breakable form, he started to waver and break down. But bit by bit, until I was positive that something was amiss.

And he was hiding it from me.

He kept assuring me that he was fine. For a while I believed him, because never in our time together had he given me a single reason not to take his words as anything other than fact. But I could tell how he was closing himself off. From what, I wasn't sure. But he stopped acting like himself, more apprehensive and unsure, and after a while I began to worry.

Outwardly, though, he seemed perfectly fine. Only someone who knew him as I did could possibly understand how strange he seemed. That, I was at least grateful for, because Ellie was oblivious to it all. Jack was still going to work, spending time with the both of us, talking to me late at night when we both couldn't sleep, and sleeping soundly when we could.

In fact, I only noticed the first chip when he started spending copious amounts of time up in the spare bedroom. Which would be normal, him taking hours upon hours to draw and paint images to make them come to life. If these were normal circumstances, that is. Which they weren't, far from it.

I'd been hoping for quite a while that he'd be stricken with any sort of inspiration, since he'd come up dry since his return home. And once he finally had, I found myself second guessing if it was for better or for worse. Both, maybe, if that were even possible.

Before, just once, I asked if I could take a look at whatever he'd been dedicating so many of his days to. But he'd said no, and it was stern and serious, so unlike his normal demeanor, that I hadn't asked since.

Of course I'd gotten similar answers in the past. On occasion he'd drawn something too personal, perhaps a memory of the night his parents were killed and the tantalizing weeks that followed. Maybe an image of the night of the sinking, something he knew that still bothered me to see so intensely, so up close and personal – as his art always was.

This answer then had been far different than a simple shake of the head and small explanation as to why he wanted it to remain private. He said no so guardedly, almost as if his very life depended on it. And maybe it did, with the way he was shutting himself out from the rest of the world, no matter how hard he was trying to appear like he wasn't.

When I thought about it, that moment in the kitchen, when everything felt right and raw and real, I wasn't able to piece together any sense of dampened moods or silent suffering. Perhaps it'd been there all along, but I'd been so blinded by my giddiness at his being home that I refused to look at the situation any other way than with rose colored glasses.

The door to the spare bedroom closed upstairs, and I sighed a bit in relief when the light echo of Jack's footsteps carried down the stairs. He took position next to me where I stood at the counter. I heard rather than saw him approaching, and didn't stop tossing the salad as he planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Hey," he greeted, and although I searched, I couldn't find an ounce of insincerity or unevenness in his action or tone.

I think that might've been the worst part, the constant re-analyzing and reading into every interaction we had. Because he'd always been especially talented when it came to guarding his emotions, and it bugged me that I couldn't read him half as well as he could me. It just hadn't ever come naturally to me. At times, when he displayed himself as joyful as ever, I'd begin to doubt my assumptions and guesses. But I knew them to be true, no matter how hard of a front he put up.

"Hi," I replied, side-eying him as he moved around the room. "What were you doing?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Oh…" he paused for a split second, but I noticed. "Just drawing a bit more."

"Do I ever get to see this artwork of yours?" The question was out before I had time to bite my tongue. Jack chuckled, and it sounded like he meant to do so good naturedly, although when I turned around, I could tell by his face that he was clearly uncomfortable. By then it's too late to take it back, so I try my best to cover it up. "It's just that, until I see it… I can't be sure it's even real. What if you've got another woman up there?"

I meant for it to be a joke, and I assumed I conveyed it as such, but Jack's face contorted into something stony and maybe a bit pensive. "You know I'd never do that," he answered without a shred of humor.

Instant regret pooled around my feet, and I felt terrible and wished I had the ability to turn back time so I could scold myself before I could so much as open my mouth. No… actually, I'd go further back. Back to before any of this happened at all. Back when none of this mattered. When everything was easy and simple. Which it wasn't, not really and not by a long shot, but compared to the mess of a life we were living now, it certainly seemed that way.

I'd made dramatic comments like that in the past, and so had he. I'd throw my head back and fake cry, saying things like, 'What if you get sick of me?' or 'What if you fall madly in love without another woman?' And Jack would joke along, then assure me I was all he ever needed or wanted. Never had he responded sternly, angrily, or gotten upset. This wasn't a reaction I'd gotten from him. Ever.

So I stopped tossing the salad and placed my hands on either side of the bowl. "I know that, Jack." We just stared at each other for a few seconds, communicating with our gazes. I wasn't entirely sure it worked, so I cleared the air anyway, saying what I felt didn't need to be, "I wasn't serious."

He didn't respond, instead sticking to walking around the kitchen like he'd gone mad and couldn't focus on anything. I removed my hands from the bowl and walked over to him, placing them on his shoulders. "Jack," I said firmly, and he finally stopped pacing. My hands slid up to his cheeks, and I held his face in my hands so he couldn't possibly look at anything but me. "I love you. So much. And if you don't want to talk to me about your art or show it to me, that's alright."

He took a second to acknowledge my words, and for a brief second I considered the idea I'd be getting none; but he nodded his head and gave me another chaste kiss on the cheek before walking away, leaving me to continue finishing my task in the silence that consumed me prior to his entrance.

Dinner that night was an unusual affair. In the beginning it seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary – Ellie bounding into the room, Jack setting the table, me bringing the meal out.

Once we started eating, I noticed that things weren't as normal as they typically were. Jack usually paid attention while Ellie went on about her day, wanting to give her every ounce of his undivided attention to not miss a second of her sometimes over the top storytelling. Tonight it was obvious that his mind was somewhere else.

He kept bouncing his leg underneath the table, glancing to the side every minute or so, so much that it was obvious to me, although all Ellie seemed to take note of was the fact that her father wasn't responding to the questions she'd taken to throwing at him.

"We went to the park today!" Ellie said excitedly, "Me and Ruby played in the park and then ate ice cream! It was a really fun day."

I looked at Jack with a smile on my face, expecting him to respond with a remark equally as ecstatic as Ellie, but instead I saw him staring off expressionless, not even listening. I turned my attention back to our daughter, who luckily had her eyes on me. "That's wonderful, sweetie. Ruby's a very lovely friend," I said. "I'm so glad you had a fun day."

Ellie went off into her own little world, satisfied she'd received a response to her spiel, but my attention stayed stuck on Jack, who didn't move or engage in conversation for the whole duration of the meal.

Afterwards, the night continued to progress in the abnormally strange way it'd been going all evening. I lifted Ellie into my arms as I brought her upstairs as Jack or I typically did, while he trailed not too far behind us. Tonight, however, he took a slight detour back to that spare bedroom while I prepped our daughter for bed.

Once she was under the covers, I could sense that neither of us were quite yet ready to part for the night. Settling myself down, Ellie instantly cuddled into my side, and I absentmindedly nuzzled into the softness of her hair as my arms encircled her. "Mommy," Ellie said, tone somewhat timid. "Is Daddy angry at me?"

My heart nearly shattered completely. "No, my darling." I could not trust myself to look into her eyes, knowing that if I did, she would see the tears behind them. "Daddy could never be angry at you, I promise. He's just having a hard time right now, but he loves you so much."

It was not difficult to tell that my words didn't completely pacify her. She didn't offer a response, just huddled closer into my side, where I held her close until she fell asleep. Then I quietly left the room and made my way to the spare bedroom, knocking briefly, "Jack, open the door."

It swung open almost instantly, Jack appearing a bit disheveled. "Is everything okay?"

"I should be asking you that," I said, shaking my head. He stood there, exasperated. "Listen, I know you've been through so much, and I know I can't possibly understand any of it. I know all of that." My eyes shot to the floor for just a moment. "But Jack, we need to talk about this. We need to talk about what's going on with you. Because I can't take this anymore."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Everything's fine," he attempted to deflect. And it was so effortless that I wanted to believe him. But I recognized the glint in his gaze and the nervous fidgeting his hands couldn't ever seem to shake as of late.

"Stop it," I blanked. "I know you're not trying to hurt anyone, but you are. It's hurting me knowing that you're upset and that you won't talk to me. I don't know if it's that you're trying to spare my feelings or if you just don't trust me with this, but it's hurting me. And Ellie is hurting too. She asked me if you were mad at her, because she noticed you weren't talking to her at dinner, and then you left without saying goodnight or putting her to bed." I sighed, willing my tears to stay at bay, "I can take the hurt, but when it starts affecting our daughter…"

At the mention of Ellie, his features softened and I could see I'd stricken the right nerve. He stared at me for a pause, wordless, before walking past me and down the hall.

"Jack, wait." I swiveled on my feet, an attempt to stop him beginning to pass my lips, but he was already opening Ellie's door.

"Daddy?" Ellie whispered, rubbing her eyes with her fists. I couldn't imagine she'd been sleeping very heavily, and the creaking of the door must've woken her.

"Hey," Jack smiled, settling into her bed and wrapping his arms around her. "I wanted to see you before bed."

Similarly to us not long ago, she cuddled up against him. Jack kissed the top of her head. "I love you so much, my sweet girl. No matter what, I'll always love you more than anything in the entire world."

The way he spoke to her was so gentle and certain that it instantly secured her in a way I was unable to do. Not fully awake, her eyes are already fluttering closed again as she said, "I love you too, Daddy."

Jack motioned for me to come in, and, with only some slight fumbling, I slid in on Ellie's other side. She fell asleep after only a few breaths, and then we were surrounded in a silence that was fiercely loud. A lot had been left unsaid between us, and I was unsure where to begin or what to say to appease the situation for the night. Jack, as usual, was able to find the start. "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I'm trying, but it's not enough, and I'm sorry."

"Shhh," I reached up and wiped my thumb across his cheeks. He leaned against my palm, breath shuddering ever so slightly as the flow of tears subsided. "There's no need to apoligize. I know you are, darling. Everything will be okay."