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When Norma was first married at the young age of eighteen, it was not how she imagined her wedding to be. She had not been in love, simply terrified of being alone with the growing child in her belly, and John was nice enough; a life with him was not unimaginable to her. The wedding was small, she had worn a white sundress, John, a button up shirt and a pair of jeans. Her family did not attend, she didn’t ask them, nor did she even care to tell them. She held a bouquet of yellow begonias in one hand, John’s sweaty palm in the other, and married the man who she didn't love, and who certainly didn't love her in return. Looking back now, she couldn’t even remember the date.
Norma met Sam on a windy Tuesday morning while at a coffee shop, a sleeping Dylan nestled in her arms while she tried to balance him, her purse, and the two cups of coffee for her and John. He’d stepped out of his place in line, offering to help carry some things for her. He had taken the coffee and let her lead him out of the shop and to her car, patiently waiting as she buckled Dylan into his carseat and gratefully taken the coffee from his hands. He asked for her number after, clicking his tongue in disappointment when she explained she was married, yet he still offered a friendship. A cup of coffee here and there, nothing more. She was barely twenty, captivated by his kind blue eyes and charming smile, never once thinking the man who had so graciously helped her that morning could turn into such a monster. They married in June.
Norma doesn’t think about him much these days, there’s really nothing to think about; Sam Bates is dead and gone, and he can’t physically hurt her ever again. Most of those painful memories are tucked away safely in the back of her mind, shoved into a tiny box and locked shut, newer and happier memories taking their place. And although there are flashes of those memories here and there, they are few and far between; Alex’s love and kindness towards her healing her mental wounds and caressing her psychological scars with a gentleness she had never experienced before.
She is different now, happy now, and the date of June sixteenth should bring her no such panic and unease anymore.
It’s not as simple as that though. Pain and horrendous memories are not just long forgotten because of the existence of something happier. And although Norma had hoped that the day of her and Sam’s anniversary would be like any other, she should’ve known better after the year prior. Norma doesn’t like to think about it, the nightmares she had gotten the days leading up to their wedding anniversary. She had spent the entire day of said anniversary sick and in bed, overwhelmed with nausea and anxiety, for no reason at all.
Sam is dead. She is safe. And yet there is still so much fear that lingers.
Nonetheless, she hoped this year would be different. Norma has Alex now, along with a new anniversary and new memories to make. And even better, the days leading up to her and Sam’s once anniversary were not filled with unease anymore. She had truly thought she had finally escaped all of it, the late nights spent up worrying about the inevitable terrors, the sickness she would experience when she awoke, the flashbacks, the horrible memories, all of it. Until she fell asleep on June fifteenth.
They had fallen asleep early that night, both exhausted from the busy activities of the day; an annual safety exposition and a night out to dinner after. It wasn’t too strenuous of an event, all Norma really had to do was show up, and admire her husband as he spoke to the children about community safety and what to do in emergencies. She had seen the gentler side of him countless times before, in the privacy and safety of their home, but never imagined the public sheriff bulldog facade would come out of place, even at a child friendly event such as this.
But he surprised her, as he has done countless times since they have been married, as he knelt down to the level of each child that spoke to him, the smile that she loved so dearly never leaving his face. Alex had taken pictures, blown up balloons, and plastered little police badge stickers on each and every child that came to say hello, and was thoroughly exhausted by the end of it. He still took Norma out for dinner afterwards, where she had teased him for being so sweet, and he had rolled his eyes, a faint blush on his cheeks as he flicked a piece of food childishly at her while she giggled.
And though Norma didn’t really do much that day, she was still sleepy too, had practically passed out the moment her head hit the pillow, and expected nothing less than a full night’s rest while wrapped snugly in Alex’s arms. She couldn’t even remember what day it was.
And yet, the Pandora's box of all her dreadful and terrifying memories has suddenly burst, flooding the crevices of her mind, washing away all the pleasant moments of the prior day. There is no specific event playing in her mind, rather a jumbled mess of all of them, from the moment Sam first laid a hand on her, to that rainy night in the car, to the day he died, all like a movie behind her eyes. She can barely breathe, feeling his hand enclosed around her throat as another stray moment of her past flashes and disappears.
It’s overwhelming. And for a moment, Norma is sure that she is dying, the pressure on her throat and chest unbearable; burning hot like a poker in her lungs, and she is prepared for it, wonders even, how Alex will react when he finds her.
Norma doesn’t die of course, instead wakes with a gasp, her eyes blinking blearily in the darkness, trying to make out the details of her room. She peers at Alex, fast asleep next to her, and though she is relieved, waves of nausea are still washing over her, and she knows it's only a matter of time before her dinner makes a reappearance. Her blanket has her trapped, and she's pulling uselessly on it in a panic to try and make it to the bathroom before she is sick. But she is too late.
Norma stares down at herself, anxiety seeping into her chest and making it hard to breathe as she glances over to Alex, praying he’s still asleep. She’s mortified at the idea of him waking up to see that his grown adult wife has thrown up all over herself and the bed like a child. She is sick for a whole new reason now, her foggy head clearing as she stares down at the vomit that is wet in her hair and down her shirt, pooling on the blanket beneath her.
She chokes back a sob, quickly covering her mouth as the loud sound echoes in the dark room, and Alex shifts a little. He mumbles her name, and she panics, looking helplessly around the room for anything that can get rid of the evidence of her sickness. He says her name clearer this time, alarmed by the heaviness of her breathing, and she knows it’s too late. The lamp clicks on, light floods the room, and Norma begins to cry, cheeks burning red with embarrassment as he takes in the sight that he had just woken up to.
Alex has always been so sweet to her, never making her feel judged or unloved, but she is sure this time will be different, that her actions have gone too far. She expects him to become angry, to scold her for being so immature and gross; she expects him to take his pillow and leave, to sleep in the guest room and probably ignore her the next morning. She anticipates all of it, prepares herself, and honestly feels like she probably deserves it, but the idea still hurts. Norma covers her face with her hands, completely humiliated at him seeing her like this, and waits to hear him leaving the room.
But Alex does not leave, instead cooing a soft, ''oh baby, are you okay?”, as he climbs out of bed and makes his way towards her.
He pushes the blanket off her lap, careful to make sure nothing else spills onto her, and scoops her into his arms without any hesitation. Norma cries harder as she clings onto him, as if he were a lifeboat and she was drowning, while he whispers soft reassurances to her and carries her to the bathroom. The remnants of her nausea are sticky in her hair and down her chest, but he doesn’t seem to care. There is no judgement in his eyes as he looks at her, no disgust or shame, instead the same adoration that is always in his gaze when looking at her, and she finds solace in it. Her cries soften to quiet sobs and little sniffles, and when he sets her on the counter, she is reluctant to let go. She relents when he promises that he is not leaving, simply starting a bath.
Norma watches, lip quivering, as Alex turns on the tap, letting the water run over his hand until he decides the water is warm enough, and plugs the tub. He comes back towards her, stopping in front of her to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll be right back,” he reassures, leaving Norma to watch the rise of the water, dried tears staining her cheeks.
He’s mentioned nothing of her getting sick all over the bed, has not made her feel guilty or disgusting for it at all. It’s a simple fact, nothing she should focus on or admire, but she does. Alex has never made her feel shame before, and he certainly wasn’t starting now.
He returns only moments later, carrying warm towels, a robe, and a thermometer. She isn’t sick. He turns off the water, sets the towels and robe on the counter next to her, and moves towards her with the thermometer. She stops him.
“I’m not sick.”
“Honey-”
“I’m not.”
They stare at each other for a moment. “It’s okay to be sick Norma,” he begins gently, and she wipes at her eyes again, feeling tearful once more all of the sudden at the fact that he doesn't seem to believe her.
“But I’m really not!” she protests, rubbing the palm of her hand under her nose. “I just… I was just upset.”
Norma doesn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at her nervously fidgeting fingers. It feels silly to explain that she had gotten sick simply because she was upset over a nightmare. Alex drops the subject, setting the thermometer off to the side, and begins to undress her, starting with her soft pajama top. She lets him, lets his gentle hands move her body so he can pull her clothes off, one by one; lets him pick her up again, bare and vulnerable, but safe in his arms, and place her gently in the warm water. He undresses too, and she sits up, so he can take his place behind her in the tub.
There is nothing sexual about the act, nothing sexual about the way his hand brushes under her breast, along her tummy, or over her thighs. It’s soothing. They don’t speak, just sit in each other’s presence, in the quietness of the bathroom.
Alex breaks the silence first, murmuring her name gently when she breathes deep. “Norma.”
“Hmm?”
“You said you weren’t sick. You… you’re upset?”
She hesitates. “Not anymore,” she shifts a bit, hiding her face from his view.
“What happened?” His hands wander up her arms, running along them to help warm her up. The water has gotten cold fast. Her lip quivers, from the brisk air or the sadness, she can’t tell which one. He tries again. “Baby?”
She whimpers softly, turning in the tub to hide her face in his chest, and he can feel her tears hot on his skin. He didn’t mean to upset her, and he’s quick to try to undo the damage, shushing her and running his fingers soothingly along her bare skin. He can’t bear it when she cries, the sound is horrible and heartbreaking and he swears it hurts him physically each time she does.
“I just had a bad dream,” she says, sounding impossibly smaller than she feels. “I...I thought it wouldn’t happen this time.”
He’s unsure what she means, and he wonders whether she should push the subject or not. He doesn’t have to wonder for long though, because she continues to speak, curled up against him in the lukewarm water.
“It’s just…” she sighs. “It’s June sixteenth. Sam and I got married on June sixteenth. I just have a lot of bad memories.”
Alex’s grip tightens just briefly, squeezing her gently to comfort her, to make sure that she knows she is safe. He can’t fathom it. He will never understand how anyone could’ve ever hurt her. She is the most beautifully alive person he has ever met.
“Norma…” he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs, and for a moment it seems like she may say more, but she remains silent. She doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. They stay in that silence for only a few minutes longer, before Norma begins to shiver and she is wiggling closer to Alex to get warm. He decides they’ve been in long enough, steps out of the tub, and she reaches her arms out, almost like a child. He lifts her out with no question. Alex dries her off, though she is perfectly capable, and wraps the robe around her. He enjoys taking care of her, and Norma is happy to let him most of the time.
“Where will we sleep?” she asks worriedly as he redresses. “I didn’t take the sheets off or-”
“I took care of it,” he reassures quickly, before she can dwell on it any longer, and she almost looks surprised. “When I went to get the towels, I put everything in the laundry.”
“But you don’t like doing laundry.”
He snorts out a soft laugh, pulling a face as he looks back at her. “I don’t mind doing laundry, Norma. You just never let me.”
“Because you do it wrong.”
“Psh,” he rolls his eyes playfully. “I do it perfectly fine!”
“You don’t separate the colors!” she protests, and he laughs, unable to help himself.
Norma smiles at the sound, and lets him embrace her, placing a kiss against the tip of her nose before she rests her head against his chest. His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer and it’s safe. The safest she’s probably ever felt. They both know that these memories will probably never go away, that this is not the last nightmare Norma will ever experience, but she has Alex now, and he will protect her with his life. He can’t wash the pain away, erase those times from existence, but he is here. And Norma knows that he is her safety.