Page 42 of Blackout

Chapter Fourteen

BLACKIE

Lacey didn’t need to work. She didn’t get up five days a week and drag her ass to the rec center because we relied on her paycheck; I had us covered. She worked because she was passionate about what she did. She worked because there were people who needed to see her face and hear her calming voice. People who needed her assurance.

Anyone who loses their job feels like they failed in some way but, for Lacey, any loss she experiences is intensified. She doesn’t handle defeat well and takes it very personally. I don’t know if that’s because of her illness or if it’s a personality trait. It takes her a little longer to bounce back, to find the confidence in herself to move forward and most times she falls victim to the depression living inside of her.

People think because she’s on Lithium, she doesn’t break down. They assume antidepressants are a manic depressive’s heroin, that they serve as a scapegoat. It’s not a miracle drug. It doesn’t ease every blow. She still gets knocked down. It’s her norm and being the man who loves her makes it mine now too.

However, Lacey doesn’t get physically ill. Sure, she’s had an anxiety attack here and there, but before this shit with her job, she couldn’t get out of bed and now, she’s throwing up. She said it was the flu, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s something different.

It’s the very reason I called Reina after I was sure Lacey was asleep. She’s gone through it with Jack; the highs and lows and everything in between. She saw firsthand what can happen to a person when their meds aren’t working and if that is what’s happening with Lacey, I want to get ahead of it. I don’t want to call no doctor to sedate her. I don’t want to scrape her off the floor like Reina did the other day when Jack became violently ill on his new medication. I just want her to be well.

Her voice sounds in my ears and I replay the very words she said to me the night I told her I relapsed.

You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to be well.

The doorbell rings, interrupting my thoughts and I lift myself off the couch to answer it. Realizing I’ve been sitting in the dark for the last two hours, I flick on the lights and pull open the door. Relief strikes me as I stare into Reina’s eyes.

“Where is she?” she questions, entering the house and removing her leather jacket.

“Upstairs,” I reply, closing the door. “She hasn’t left the bed.”

I watch as she throws the jacket on the back of the couch and turns to me.

“Does Jack know you’re here?”

Placing her hands on her hips, she cocks her head to the side and raises an eyebrow.

“If Jack knew I was here, he’d be here too. He thinks I’m at a PTA meeting.”

“You go to those things?”

“Hell, no. Every mother at the school can’t stand me. If I ever walked into one of those meetings, they’d likely stone me. I’m going to go check on her,” she says, motioning towards the stairs.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I nod. She makes it halfway up the stairs before I call her name.

“Thanks for this,” I tell her when she turns to look at me.

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies before disappearing up the stairs. I hear her feet pad across the floorboards, and I start to pace the living room. Ten minutes later she comes into the living room and drops down on the couch.

“Well?”

“Why did you call me here?” she questions, leaning her back against the cushions. Perplexed, I narrow my eyes.

“I told you, she’s been depressed for days. Today was the first day she was able to get out of bed and when she went to work, she got laid off. Reina, she called me to pick her up. She never does that. When we got home, she told me she threw up at the office and had a panic attack afterward.”

“And you think this is all happening because her meds aren’t working,” Reina supplies.

“I don’t fucking know,” I exasperate, pushing my fingers roughly through my hair. “I don’t think it’s the fucking flu that’s for sure and with everything going on with Jack, I got worried—”

“Blackie, Lacey isn’t Jack,” she interjects softly. “Just because his meds are failing doesn’t mean hers are. It doesn’t mean they ever will.”

Dropping my hands to my sides, I stare at her. I suppose she’s right. Lacey doesn’t compare me to every addict she comes in contact with. It’s wrong to assume she’s going to end up like her old man. Still, it’s always the first thought that runs through my mind when something like this happens and I don’t know how to turn that off. I don’t know how to look at her and not see every fight Jack’s ever fought. I don’t know how to be anything other than what I am and before I was ever Lacey’s husband, I was the man who stood in front, behind and on the side of her father. All his battles became mine. My first instinct will always be to stand between her and her mind.

“I’m not a doctor,” Reina continues. “But I agree with you…she doesn’t have the flu.”

Before I can ask her what she thinks I should do, she turns and grabs her purse. Reaching inside, she pulls out a CVS bag.

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