Page 83 of The Leaves In Autumn
“No. It isn’t like that. This doctor I’m seeing is so fucking…patient for the story. That’s the right word. We talk about other things and pretty soon somehow, I’m telling her how I feel. How fucked up it is to know your wife killed herself.”
“Same here. Only mother.”
“If ever you want to talk about it with a professional, I can have my doctor refer someone.”
“I’m good.”
“I know you and I have talked about it. But I never wanted to push my darkness on you. So I’m not even sure you know some of the really important pieces to the story. I’ve tried to protect you, Teddy.”
“I know. You did protect me. But I’m a man now. So, tell me what I don’t know.”
I look around at the near empty room. The closest people to us are the old couple by the window.
“No one can hear,” Teddy says.
Taking a deep breath, I begin the telling.
“What was going onbeforethat day needs explaining. You know your mother suffered from some emotional issues.”
“Yeah.”
“Let me tell you how unaware I was, we all were, about the depth of her struggles. First of all, when we met and for the first three years, she was a different woman. Outgoing, fun, communicative. And that’s who she had always been, according to her parents and the pictures I had seen.”
“I’ve always wondered about them. Why didn’t they want to see me after? Or you?”
“I’ll get to it. First you need to know what happened. About two years after you were born, your mother began to change. Not gradually, or in small ways. It was dramatic.”
“Like how?”
“Like all of a sudden, she was afraid of leaving the house. A paranoia crept up.”
“Shit.”
“And remember you were just a little guy. She loved you so much. Loved being a mother. You two used to go to the park almost every day. Sometimes she’d make a little picnic and you would eat on a big, checkered blanket. I have that saved for you, if you want it.”
“Of course, I do. I think I have a distant memory of being with her on the grass. There was a big red ball. At least it seemed big to a little kid.”
“I’m happy you have any memories of being with her when things were good. We had been a normal young couple. Then something happened. It was like I was living with a stranger. Physical affection was taken off the table. It grew harder for her to get through the days without locking herself in what had becomeherroom.”
“God. What did the doctor say?”
“Doctor? We couldn’t convince her to go. Not one of us. Her father tried so hard. My parents. There was no talking about it, as far as she was concerned. And you don’t know the legalities of something like this, but no one can legally force someone to get treatment unless they are declared unfit. And this was still a relatively new problem. We all thought it was some sort of delayed postpartum depression.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went to my doctor myself. Just so I could explain her symptoms and ask for any fucking guidance anyone could give me. I was lost, Teddy. Completely out of my depth. The doctor told me emotional illnesses can appear out of the blue in young people. Sometimes it’s hormonal hits, other times traumas can trigger it. Sometimes it’s genetic.”
“Well that’s fucked up.”
“Her mother was bipolar, which played into her and your grandfather retreating after the suicide. It was all too much for them. I get it. And to tell the truth, it was better for me not to have them in my life. It was painful to watch her suffering the same way I saw my wife starting to do.
“I was around it for a few years, but your mother had seen it her whole life. I’m sure it scared her to think it might be her future. I’m just assuming here, because never did she share what was happening in her mind. I tried a million times to bring it out, to get her to go for help. She could barely stand my voice. Every attempt took her further away. And now, I was taking care of you almost like a single parent. Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid she’d hurt herself?”
“Afraid she would accidentally hurt you.”
“Fuck.”
