What a mind fuck.
Any sane man in my situation would have just gotten the hell out of there that first day, taken a long walk and sorted out my head…maybe moved out of the apartment even.
Instead, you know how I handled it? I went straight to my room and made her a fucking paper bird. Because, after meeting her, the only thing I could think about was that I just wanted to make her smile, take some of the darkness out of those beautiful blue eyes.
What a pansy.
It only got worse from there. I’d keep looking for excuses to be around her. I knew she had these fears, and I really did want to help her through them. But I also really wanted to get my fix, be near her, smell her vanilla scent and touch her in subtle ways every chance I got, even if it was just her hand or her back.
She made me feel alive after years of being emotionally dead. I lived for every moment spent with her and dreaded the weekends when I had to leave. I thought I could handle being close friends with her, as long as I paced myself without letting it go too far.
Which is why I came up with the brilliant idea of tutoring her and of course, our bet. Everybody won. She’d get good grades, overcome her fears, and I got my angel fix. She got what she needed, and I needed…her.
Things started to get complicated because each day I fell harder, and I craved more. The fact that I sensed that she was attracted to me too didn’t help; it only turned me on, and there was no goddamn shut off switch. I tried my best to curtail the physical need. I really did. Let’s just say, I jerked off so much that I was able to prove once and for all that the myth my grandmother told me about was false, because I never did go blind.
Aside from wanting her physically, there was this constant need to make her happy. I got off on it. I noticed Nina changing the more time we spent together. Her eyes started to transform. Light replaced the darkness, and I wondered if I had put it there. She always looked at me like no one ever had and was so attentive; she ate up every word I said. I made her laugh, and she comforted me. I wanted to be around her all of the time like a fucking bee on honey.
The way I saw it, we were two fractured souls that fit together like the last two missing pieces in a “fucked up life” puzzle. When we were together, life finally made sense; it wasn’t all work, obligation, guilt and fear. It was just amazing to be alive. She needed me to help her, but she didn’t realize I needed her so much more.
The first time I knew I was really in trouble was when she cut her finger that night trying to make me dessert. I physically felt the pain—a shooting pain—when I saw her blood. I had never experienced anyone else’s pain before. It felt like she was an extension of me. That was when I began to suspect that I might have been falling in love with her.
The moment I absolutely knew I loved her, though, was in Chicago. I was telling her things I hadn’t ever told anyone, like the story about my father and the moon. On the plane ride home, when we were holding hands and I watched her with her eyes closed, I had wished that the plane were taking us somewhere far away, where I could spend the rest of my life just being with her, making love to her and not worrying about anything else. I knew it was selfish, but I would have given anything for that.
I hadn’t even planned to take her to Chicago initially. My original idea had been a helicopter ride over Manhattan, but she kept getting A’s and putting it off. During that time, we became closer, and I wanted to share more of myself with her. Maybe it was to make up for not letting her in on the most important piece of information. Something she had every right to know, even as my friend.
Over Christmas, I had missed her so much that it was like going through withdrawal. I realized that staying in the friend zone just wasn’t working for me. I needed her. The only way I could be with her was to tell her the truth and hope that she would understand. She promised that nothing could make her leave me, but would that really still be the case once she found out about Ivy? Maybe I was kidding myself.
If she didn’t want to be with me after I told her the truth, I’d move out and walk away, because living under the same roof with her would be like strapping a bottle of vodka to an alcoholic.
I wished she had just let me get it off my chest last night, because the truth was, there was never really going to be a right time to explain my fucked up situation to her. But she convinced me to wait a day to have the talk.
When I realized she wanted me as much as I wanted her, I became like a caged animal unleashed for the first time; I wanted to ravage her so badly that I gave in and waited to say anything. If all else failed, last night will stay with me for as long as I live, and nothing could ever take it away.
Now, I needed to figure out how to explain my sudden disappearing act and everything else, the second I get back to New York.
How exactly was I supposed to tell the person I love that I’m married to another woman I may never be able to leave?
***
The halls were eerily quiet as a nurse led me to her room. Ivy was sitting up in bed staring at the clock on the wall. That was a habit she developed about a year ago. She just watches the hands go by. It seemed to calm her.
“Ivy?” I said as I slowly approached the bed. She wasn’t in the middle of a delusion, but she also didn’t seem to be affected by my being there one way or the other. She looked at me and then looked right back at the clock.
She winced when I grabbed her hand. She didn’t like to be touched, but she gave in and let me hold it. I was just relieved she wasn’t telling me to go away this time or accusing me of trying to kill her. That one was the worst.
I squeezed her hand lightly. “Are you okay?”
She nodded repeatedly in quick motions without making eye contact with me then said, “Did they call you?”
“Yes. They said you—”
“Well, I didn’t. They’re lying. They shouldn’t have called you.”
I didn’t want to argue with her. The truth was, only she really knew whether she meant to take her own life or whether it was a misunderstanding. She never admitted to intentionally trying to commit suicide the past few times something like this happened.
“What did you do, Ivy?”
“I was just trying to get some air.”
“They thought you tried to jump out a window?”
“I was on the roof.”
“Ivy—”
She cut me off and shouted. “I was just getting air!”
I decided not to grill her any further. It was pointless. Even this little amount of clarity from her was rare, and I didn’t want to push her into an episode. She just needed to know I was there for her. Thank God, this time, my being here didn’t set her off.
She kept her hand in mine, and I watched her eyes return to the clock on the wall. Aside from the faint traffic sounds through the glass from the street below and the clock ticking, it was quiet. Then, came a light knock on the door.
“Mr. Green?”
I turned around to see a tall middle-aged woman with a white coat standing at the doorway.
“I’m Doctor Greally.”
“Hi,” I said, standing up as we shook hands.
“May I have a word with you?” She gestured for me to walk out into the hallway with her.
I looked back at Ivy who was still staring at the clock. “I’ll be right back.”
“What happened, doctor?” I whispered.
“She was apparently naked on the roof threatening to jump if someone didn’t leave her alone. There was no one actually bothering her and no one in the vicinity. The staff at the home had a tough time getting her down safely. They brought her in because they didn’t know what else to do.”
I rubbed my forehead vigorously with my fingers. “How long is she going to be hospitalized this time?”
“At least a few days. I wanted to talk to you about treatment options.”
“You obviously looked at her records? Nothing has ever worked for her,” I said.
“Yes, but I noticed they’ve never tr
ied Clozapine.”
“What is that?”
“Well, it’s usually prescribed as a last resort in patients who have never responded to any of the other anti-psychotics.”
“Why is it a last resort?”
“There are some potential troubling side-effects, like dangerously lowering white blood cell count. People who take it have to have frequent blood tests to monitor the situation. However, aside from that risk, it can be a very effective treatment in some people.”
My stomach felt sick. “When do we have to make a decision?”
“You can take all the time you need. Just know that it’s an option.”
“Thank you,” I said as I rubbed my chin, unsure about whether it would be worth the risk. I’d have to do more research.
As I reentered her room, she was fast asleep. I sat down beside her and once again, felt helpless as I watched her peaceful face.
When she was sleeping, it was easy to imagine the old Ivy. I only got to experience that girl for under a year before things started to dramatically change. The past five years have been a steady decline.
Ivy and I dated for six months before we eloped to Vegas on a whim and were only married for about six months more when her behavior started to deteriorate. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening or what to even call the episodes; I just referred to it all as hell.
The first time I ever took her to the hospital, by the time she was discharged, it finally had a name.
***
“That went well, don’t you think?” my co-worker Henry said as we exited the meeting.
“Yeah. Lunch?”
“Sure. The Ninety-Nine?” he asked.
I turned the corner toward my cubicle. “I’ll meet you in five.”
I had been doing my co-op for a technology company north of Boston. It was a hip start-up, and I loved the fact that they didn’t give a shit about my piercings. As long you worked hard, they left you alone. Management had called some of us in to talk about possible job opportunities after graduation. They were scoping out the co-op students for computer hardware engineering positions. We would be developing computer chips, circuit boards and routers.
I didn’t like working so far outside the city, where we lived. Ivy’s behavior had deteriorated lately, and she was really starting to worry me. She had dropped out of school and lost her job several weeks ago, which meant she was now home all day. She wasn’t in any condition to work, but not having anything to occupy her was making an already bad situation worse. I didn’t know how to help her anymore, but losing my job too wasn’t going to help either one of us. So, I drove the forty-five minutes every day and left her alone, hoping for the best.
Rachel, the receptionist, spoke through my phone intercom as I was counting my cash for lunch.
“Jake?”
“Yo.”
“Please come out front.”
Her tone was strange. I immediately grabbed my wallet and walked to the front desk.
My heart dropped.
No.
No.
Not here.
She was standing there in the lobby with mascara running down her eyes, wearing her pajamas, her hair disheveled.
“What are you doing here, Ivy?”
She kept her distance and pointed at me, her index finger shaking. “You know what I am doing here. You know what you tried to do to me this morning. I know you tried to poison me!”
No.
I briefly closed my eyes unable to believe this was actually happening at work. Her words shouldn’t have shocked me, yet every time she accused me of something like that, it fucking ripped my heart out. This was the first time other people would witness it.
I looked behind me to see Rachel looking at us like a deer caught in headlights. I could only imagine what this must look like to someone who didn’t know my wife.
“How did you get here?”
She didn’t answer, but through the sliding glass doors of the lobby, I saw there was a cab waiting outside.
I grabbed her arm. “Let’s go. Now!”
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled.
I started to push her out the door when she resisted.
Her scream echoed in the lobby. “He tried to kill me this morning. He put something in my coffee before he left for work. He’s wanted me dead for a while.”
I looked over toward the desk and saw my three co-workers who were supposed to be meeting me to go to lunch, staring at us speechless. I shook my head at them to let them know this wasn’t what it seemed.
Bob, the office manager came out. “What’s going on out here?”
I started to sweat. “Bob, we were just leaving. This is my wife, but she’s ill and doesn’t realize what she is saying. She shouldn’t have come here. I apologize for the scene.”
She was crying, and I pulled her out the door, as she struggled with me. I held onto her arm so she couldn’t run away as I stuck my head in the open cab window. “Did she pay you?”
The cabbie shook his head, so I took out my wallet with the one available hand I had. “How much?”
“Ninety-seven dollars,” he said.
I didn’t have enough cash. Fuck.
Humiliated, I held onto Ivy, as we walked back into the lobby. More people were now standing there to witness the drama. Henry came up to me. I told him I would explain everything later and he gave me the extra cash to pay the cab driver. As Ivy stood there whispering to herself, I think he was starting to get the drift of what was really going on.
I paid the driver before dragging Ivy to the far end of the parking lot where my Jetta was parked. She was still trying to get away from me and was threatening to call the cops. Cars were speeding by on the nearby highway and I feared if she got away, she’d run into traffic and get herself killed.
Her spit sprayed my face when she said, “I fucking hate you, Jake.” I pushed her into the passenger seat and shut the door. Those words went right through me. As I started the car, she turned away from me looking out the window. I looked over at her, feeling helpless, not sure if I should take her home this time.
I just sat there with the car running. I couldn’t fucking do this alone anymore. Ivy’s mother died shortly before we got married. She had no father in the picture and no siblings. I was all she had. It was the reason I was still here.
Taking her to a hospital had been something I’d been avoiding. I was scared for her, what they might do to her there. Visions of padded white walls and isolation haunted me. I thought I could keep her safe myself, but I was losing control faster than she was losing her mind. My poor Ivy. This wasn’t her fault.
She turned and looked at me, and I knew she was coming out of it. Each episode was like a cycle. It always passed, but once she came through it, a new one was never far behind. Feeling defeated and hopeless, my chest tightened as I reached for her hand. I almost wished, this once, she stayed out of her mind, so that she didn’t realize what was about to happen. Because as we pulled out of the lot, I knew that this time, I wasn’t taking her home.
***
“Where are we?” she asked when we pulled up to a large brick building just outside Boston.
We hadn’t spoken the entire ride to the hospital.
I touched her hair gently. “We’re going to get you help, baby girl.”
I helped her out of the car, and this time, she didn’t resist.
A couple of days later, she was still admitted when the doctor pulled me into his office. I knew something was coming, but I was never going to be ready to hear it.
I was looking at the pictures of the doctor’s smiling children as he said, “Mr. Green, your wife has schizophrenia.”
I continued to stare blankly at the photos. A snapshot of a little boy lifting a fish on a boat would forever be etched in my mind as the image I was looking at when I heard those words come out of the doctor’s mouth. The rest of that one-sided conversation was a blur that I could only recall bits and pieces of.
&n
bsp; Auditory Hallucinations
Delusions
Anti-psychotics
Manageable with meds
No cure
No cure
No cure
He was sending us home with a few prescriptions for medications to start.
Ivy took my hand as we walked through the hospital’s revolving doors that symbolized our new normal, in and out of hospitals until I would eventually reach my breaking point.
CHAPTER 22
I took a cab from the hospital to my sister Allison’s house in Brookline. Ivy had stayed sleeping, so I decided to get some sleep myself. I’d go back to the hospital in the morning.
I had placed a quick call to Nina around midnight, letting her know everything was okay here and to reassure her about us, but I could tell by the tone of her voice, she was scared. Who could blame her? She needed to know what the fuck was going on with me, but I wasn’t about to tell her everything about Ivy over the phone.
Allison and Cedric had a big Victorian-style house with plenty of space, so I always crashed in their guest room on weekends. They weren’t expecting me on a weeknight, though. I knew my nieces would be asleep and hoped someone would be up to let me in.
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