Chapter 115 Sylvia Orders Pizza
Trying to concentrate on work, Emily was failing to keep her mind off Byron’s state of health. Even Katie’s carefree chatter could hardly distract her from the problem. She did her best to take care of the most urgent things and went home a little early.
The dogs greeted her with excited barks, while Sylvia waved lazily from the couch.
“Good, you’re just in time,” Sylvia said, “I ordered pizza.”
“Even though I didn’t want any,” Byron chimed in. Sylvia must have managed somehow to get him off the couch because now he sat with his elbows resting on the dining room table, his head cradled in his hands like he was mourning. And in a way, he was. He seemed to be lamenting the loss of his father all over again.
Emily gave him a little kiss on the cheek. “How are you, lover?” she whispered
“Not great. I wish you hadn’t sent in my mom to torture me.”
“I heard that!” Sylvia called from across the room.
Rupert and Shandy paced the house nervously, unable to settle down anywhere.
The doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the pizza, but nobody moved. Emily said, “I’ll get it,” though she was in the middle of washing her hands.
“No, Byron should get it… if he’s a gentleman,” Sylvia intoned.
This was a fairly transparent trick to get him to move and maybe distract him from his thoughts a bit. Although Byron probably saw through it, he obeyed his mother’s wish and went to the door, grabbing his wallet on the way.
“Thank you, sir,” the young delivery guy said in a surprised and happy tone.
“You have to stop giving out one hundred dollar tips all the time!” Sylvia scolded.
“How did you know?” Byron turned to her suspiciously, balancing the two pizza boxes on his arm. “I handed it to him very discreetly.”
Sylvia scoffed. “I could tell by the tone of his voice.”
“You’re like a ninja,” Byron said in a dull tone. “Here’s your pizza.”
“You’re going to have some too,” Sylvia commanded.
“Sorry, mom, I can’t even handle the smell of the pizza right now.” He walked away with weary steps as if wading through water.
Emily followed him, too worried to take a pizza slice for herself.
Byron lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. “I want to be alone.” His voice held none of the usual warmth when he addressed Emily.
She sat down in an armchair not far from the bed. It was an unspoken thought, but she couldn’t leave him alone, considering he might be at risk of suicide. She didn’t know whether jumping off that bridge had been his only idea to end it or if he had other methods like sleeping pills, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
“It was nice of you to give that delivery boy a hundred dollars,” Emily said after a long silence.
Byron didn’t even open his eyes. “Since money hasn’t brought me much happiness, someone else should at least enjoy it.”
“How can you say it hasn’t brought you happiness?” Emily asked. “What about our vacation on the island? Don’t tell me it didn’t make you happy.”
His lips curved into a crooked smile which was soon displaced by a despondent expression as he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “It was a good time… Seems so far away right now.”
“Byron…” she began slowly, reluctant to talk about the subject. “You remember how you promised to tell me if you were feeling suicidal?”
“Yeah,” he said in that same indifferent voice.
“You would still tell me if you were feeling that way, right?”
“I would.”
“Well, are you feeling that way?”
“Not very much,” he said sleepily.
“Not very much?! So you have thought about it.” Emily felt a hollow feeling in her stomach. She was afraid for him like she hadn’t in a long time.
“I wasn’t seriously thinking about it, planning it or anything,” he explained, “I just had these thoughts… it would be nice if I died. I wouldn’t have to suffer so much and be so ashamed.”
“Why are you ashamed?” Emily asked.
“Lots of reasons.”
“Is it because you think your own father doesn’t love you?”
He didn’t answer, and Emily guessed that was at least one of the reasons.
At length, he spoke up again. “I’m sorry you’re getting such a dud for a husband. I always do my best to be there for you when I feel normal, but at times like these, I hate myself because you have to deal with me being useless.”
“Don’t say that. You’re not useless.” Emily came over and sat on the bed, stroking his forehead. “You answered the door for the pizza delivery guy.”
He almost smiled. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but his face returned to its state of sadness and emptiness.
