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Of course he’d have nights like these again.
Black and white static flickered on the TV, gentle shapes dancing across James’ face. The channel had gone dead while he was asleep. Now, he was sitting on the couch, hunched over, propped up by his elbows on his thighs. He stared at some distant point on the carpet. The house stood as silent as the grave, save for the falling and rising of his chest.
The noise in his ears brought a certain solace; it seeped into his mind, filling in tiny networks of cracks and fissures. It reminded him of the sea. It had been ages since he went to the beach. The last time he’d gone was with…
Ah, there it is.
A familiar ache bloomed in his chest. He used to wince at the sensation, but these past few weeks might as well have been years. Guilt and shame had become two of his best friends and worst enemies. Ever faithful like the stars, they never failed to remind him that they were always there, looking out for him. That he could turn to them—whether he wanted to or not.
James didn’t really know what he wanted anymore. He wanted her—he always would. Gods, how he wished she were here. He could almost imagine the weight of the couch shift beside him. Maybe, if he stayed still like this for long enough, he could feel her hand on his shoulder, hear her whisper to him.
But heaven knows he lost his chance. They lost their chance.
No matter what they did, perhaps it was always going to end this way.
“James?”
He nearly jumped at the sound. Looking up, he saw Laura standing in the doorway. His gaze softened. “Laura, what are you doing up so late?”
“I just wanted a glass of water,” she answered, holding the half-empty glass in question. “What are you doing up so late?”
James paused, glancing away for a moment. “I fell asleep.” He switched off the TV. “I was just watching something.”
Even in the dim light, he could tell Laura wasn’t entirely buying it. A pit settled in his stomach; this kid had been able to see right through him since the day they first met.
“I bet you haven’t brushed your teeth yet.” She took a few steps towards him. “I bet your breath smells gross.”
The beginnings of a smile appeared on his face. “Lucky guess.”
“Ew!” she laughed, the sound bubbling through the room. Even with her mockery, it helped lift James’ spirits slightly.
He shook his head. “I’ll be up soon, you go on back to bed.”
But she remained there, taking a few more moments to look at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “Are you okay?”
His heart skipped a beat. Such an innocent question froze his world in its tracks. “Yeah, just… tired.”
Laura may have been young, but both of them knew she wasn’t stupid. The lines on his face, the grain in his voice, the burden in his eyes—they told enough. It didn’t take an eight-year-old to figure it out.
“Okay,” she mumbled. She stepped back and gave him a little wave. “Well… goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he replied, returning the gesture.
Once the pitter patter of her feet faded away, his eyes scanned the room. His mind lingered on the girl’s gaze. He hadn’t expected nor wanted her to see him like that, especially not after the hotel. He couldn’t help but wonder how he looked through her eyes back then—what monster did she see?
Did she see it again tonight?
James heaved a sigh as he leaned back in his seat. His eyes landed on a framed photo on top of the television. He swallowed a lump in his throat. The picture was of him and Mary, posing together next to some railing overlooking a river. He remembered that day—the sun in their eyes, the ice cream, the big blue sky. They got lost on the way there; in classic husband fashion, he’d insisted he didn’t need the map. After they spent ten minutes in the winding forest and missed the turn two towns over, she eventually convinced him to follow it. Frustration and reprimand were evident in her voice, but neither of them stayed mad about it. It was their day, after all. Mistakes happen, and they’d only lost so much time. As the sun went down, they laughed about it on the way home.
Now, he didn’t even have a map. He’d never felt so out of place in his—their house before. They had long dreamed of having a child, and in some twisted way, James had gotten his wish. He wondered what she’d say now, what she’d tell him to do. She knew Laura better than he did, anyway. All while he stewed in his own impatience and hate, the two forged a connection greater than anything he could ever hope to see. In what little time Mary had left, she made a family of a stranger. And he never bothered to notice.
But that didn’t matter now. He’d been given a second chance, thrust back into a world now both familiar and foreign. While Silent Hill still sometimes haunted him in the unholy hours of the night—visions of the park, the nurses, that damned pyramid-headed freak—it couldn’t hurt him anymore (physically, at least). He had stepped into that town and walked away alive—and with company, too.
For himself and Laura, all they had now was each other. After the nightmare was over, she had nowhere to go, no one waiting for her, and he couldn’t bear to leave her alone. It took a while to organize the adoption papers, but she was now a Sunderland. Still, he knew well that she had her own reservations about him. He didn’t expect her to totally forgive him for what he did to Mary. Truth be told, neither did he.
Her letter sat safely in his bedside drawer. He hadn’t reread it since he got home; he felt he would crumple instantly. All the same, whenever James needed her the most, it always rang out to him. It wrapped its arms around him, laid its head on his shoulder, traced the bags under his eyes with gentle thumbs. Every line, every letter reached out to hold his hand, to remind him that their marriage, while doomed, remained a wonderful thing. That he had her blessing to go on.
And so, with trembling limbs and gritted teeth, he would. Come hell or high water, he was determined to fulfill her final wish. Though he was still reeling from the fact that he was now technically a father, he resolved in his heart of hearts that he was going to give Laura the best damn childhood he could. He’d take her to school, help her with homework even when he may not understand it. He wanted to eat ice cream with her on a sunny day, to walk with her in the rain, to hold her when times got harder. He would make sure her glass would always run over.
The future was wide open, almost swallowing him whole. His sins had shattered all he knew into angry, dreadful shards. But he continued onward, stepping over jagged fragments. Day by day, he would pick up the pieces, even as they cut his fingers, and reassemble what he could. His chest stung at the very thought, but at least he knew that grief wore the same face as love. Part of him was glad it smiled at him at all.
James was going to live for himself, and for others. James was going to live.
But first, he needed to sleep.