Spiralling Skywards: Book Two: Fading (Contradictions Series 2)

by Lesley Jones

  She had gone to Luke’s and taken the tablets. Did she know she was gonna do this? Planned it? And then something struck me.

  “She kissed me goodbye.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Last night. Before we went to sleep. She kissed me, but instead of saying good night, she said goodbye.”

  “I told her about the tablets last night,” Luke stated.

  I dragged both my hands down my face and shook my head.

  “I don’t understand. I don’t fucking get it at all. Why? Why the fuck would she do this? Surely this can’t all be over what happened with the dog?”

  “Sarah will receive a full psychiatric assessment tomorrow, but would you have any idea right now why she would’ve done something like this. What happened with the dog?”

  I shook my head.

  “There was an accident last night. The dog escaped from the house just as Sarah was pulling onto the drive, and he was hit. He didn’t make it.”

  “Well, that might’ve just been a tipping point. Anything else?”

  “She has seemed a little bit down in the past, but what I’ve seen of her lately, she’s been a bit brighter.”

  I stared at Luke for a bit. “You think she’s been down in the past?”

  “Yeah, I do. After the twins were born and then after Lucas was born especially.”

  I pulled on the lobe of my ear and thought about this. Being a bit down was not the same as being suicidal.

  “She’s always tired, but we have four kids. I just . . .” I let air puff out loudly from my lips. “I just thought that was how it was when you were running around after four kids all day.”

  “How old are the children.”

  “Eight in May, the twins are four and the baby two.”

  She nodded her head. “A lot of hard work then.”

  “Yeah, but she copes. Sarah’s a great mum.”

  “Any history of depression in the family?”

  “Yeah.” Luke jumped straight in. “Our mum, I don’t know if she was ever officially diagnosed, but I’m sure she was a manic depressive.”

  “Was?”

  “She died when Sarah was three. Car accident. We were raised by our grandparents.”

  “Okay. I’m thinking there may have been some depression going on for a while, but I’ll let our team talk to her tomorrow, and we’ll work out a plan of action going forward based on what they say.”

  “When will she be allowed home?”

  “I think we’ll keep her for a day or so and then as long as we’re sure she’s not a danger to herself or anyone else, she can go home.” The doctor stood to leave. “I’ll send a nurse in to take you to see her once you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “Yeah cheers,” Luke called after her.

  We sat in silence for a long while, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I recalled conversations, comments, and interactions. There was nothing. Not a single clue that she was even considering something like this.

  “I don’t know what to say, Del. I’m at a loss.”

  “You and me both, mate.”

  “I mean, she loves those boys so fucking much. You and them, you’re her life.”

  “Perhaps we’re not enough.”

  “Nah, there’s something else. Something else has happened. Something’s triggered this.”

  The door opened and a nurse stepped just inside.

  “Liam?” I stood and nodded. “I’ll take you in to see Sarah now.”

  “This is Luke, Sarah’s brother. Can he come in with me?”

  I didn’t want to face her on my own. I was scared. Scared of what I would see, scared of what I would say. What should I say?

  “I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

  She was in a room right opposite the nurse’s station. The bed looked huge. She looked tiny. There were machines bleeping all around her and a drip set up with saline hanging from it.

  I pulled a chair up to her bed and took her hand. It was warmer than I expected, much warmer than it had felt in the ambulance and this settled me a little bit.

  Luke leant across from the other side of the bed and kissed her forehead.

  “Fuck, Sunshine, what did you do? Why didn’t you ask someone for help?”

  The guilt that was gnawing at me since I found her took a large bite, and I allowed it to sink its teeth in deep, right down to the marrow of my bones.

  I should have seen this coming. If not this, then something, I should’ve realised that something wasn’t right.

  And then I remembered, I did. I thought she was having an affair and absolute shame weighed heavy in my chest, comfortable right next to the guilt.

  ***

  I sat with Sarah for the rest of the night. Luke left but came back a few hours later with some decent coffee and a change of clothes for me and toiletries and sweats and a hoodie for Sarah. He then went back to our house to take care of the kids.

  I called my parents and my sisters. We could keep this quiet, just between us, but I needed my family, and I thought Sarah would need them, too. My mum booked a flight while I was still on the phone to her and would be in England in two days.

  Maggie called me continuously, but other than the few lines I used to deliver the news, I had nothing else to say.

  I didn’t have answers when everyone asked me why. I had never known anyone suffering from depression or a mental illness, because surely that was what this must be? Nobody attempted to take their own life when they were feeling great.

  While I sat in the chair and waited for her to wake up, I went through Sarah’s bag the hotel had delivered for me. I searched, looking for a clue or something, anything to give me an idea of what she had been thinking.

  There was a nappy, a bib, and a dummy. A travel pack of baby wipes. I found crayons and a Superman action figure. A pen, her wallet, her phone, and lipstick—Boots No 7 in Tawny Rose.

  I went through her phone, but there was nothing but photos of the kids at Christmas, last year’s birthdays, and lots from our holiday in September.

  I opened up her Facebook app and scrolled through that. She hadn’t posted anything in a long while other than photos, so I went through them. That was when I started to see it.

  She’d added photos from before she opened her account, photos of us, selfies she took of us in bed, in the car, or out on dates. There were heaps of our wedding, and even more of us in Australia. Then there were some of her growing belly and pictures of Carter and us with Carter on all of our travels. In all those pictures, she was smiling and full of life. The way that she looked at me in some of the pictures took my breath away, and I leant across and kissed her just because I had to.

  Then there were the ultrasound photos of the twins and then pictures of the twins when they were born, and then when they came home.

  Then there were some of Lucas, some of the boys, and some more with me with the boys. Sarah was nowhere to be seen. The photos that had been added more recently were mostly of the boys, but I was in a few of them. And that was it. From our holiday in September until the last photo she posted, there was not a single one of her. Where did she go? It was as if she vanished. Even within the contents of her handbag, she was barely there. Just one sad lonely lipstick, that was all there was of her. But she didn’t vanish . . . she faded. Faded away right in front of me, and I didn’t even see it.

  The longer I sat; the angrier I got. I was angry at myself for not seeing that she needed help, and I was angry at her for not asking for it and for thinking that it was okay to do this, to just checkout and leave me.

  2016

  I was not sure at what stage I became aware of the fact that I was still alive, breathing, and in hospital, but it was before I was fully conscious that was for sure.

  I drifted for what could have been minutes, hours, or days. Noise, smell, and sound all gradually overwhelming my senses until I could no longer ignore or deny the fact that I was living.

  My throat felt sore and scrat
chy when I tried to swallow, and my chest and ribs felt as if they had been crushed, kicked, or stamped on.

  I licked my lips and, once again, attempted to swallow before opening and then rapidly closing my eyes.

  The white light seared my pupils. It was too much. Far too bright. Far too full of life and all things living. The glare gave me an instant headache, almost like brain freeze from eating ice cream, except it vanished as soon as I closed my eyes and shut out the harsh fluorescent glow, life, and the world.

  I left it a few moments before making another attempt, and as I did, I become aware of someone else in the room. My heart lurched against my ribcage before crashing to my stomach.

  There was a person in my room.

  At least one, maybe more.

  People—I was going to have to face people. I was going to have to face my family, my friends, even the nurses and staff at the hospital, and I was going to have to explain my actions. I hadn't brokered for this scenario, I truly believed I had taken enough tablets to do the job. Failure had been neither an option nor a consideration. It was now a stark reality, the bleeping of the equipment, the sensation of a blood pressure cuff tightening around my arm every so often, and that distinct hospital smell assaulting my nostrils were all evidence of that.

  I opened my eyes again, but instead of looking up, where I knew the unforgiving illumination was waiting to attack my retinas, I let my head drift to my shoulder so I could see who was in the room with me.

  Wrong move, the worst.

  Sitting in a chair facing me was my husband. He had his long legs stretched out in front of him, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyebrows drawn down into a frown, hiding the blue of his eyes. Despite this, the intensity of his stare wasn’t lost on me, even in my not quite fully conscious state.

  I blinked rapidly a few times in succession to try to clear the blurriness of my vision, but I wished I hadn’t. I watched as my husband’s handsome face crumbled. I watched as tears sprung from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. I continued to watch as he sat forward in his chair, looked down at the floor, raked his hands through his hair, and then looked back up at me.

  He cleared his throat before standing and leaning forward on the baseboard at the end of my bed. He cleared his throat once again and then rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. I took in his hair, which had flopped forward and was hanging over to one side, as well as the days’ worth of stubble on his jaw and chin. I looked at anything but the cold steely stare and his bloodshot eyes as he looked across at me.

  “What did you do? What the fuck did you do, Sarah? Why, why would you . . .” His voice trailed off on a sob.

  He again cleared his throat, and I knew that he wasn’t done yet. Why would he be? I was his wife and the mother of his children, he deserved answers, right?

  “Me. Us. The boys. I don’t understand. Why, Sarah? Why would you want to leave us? How could you want to leave them? You of all people should understand what that would do, how that would feel.”

  I said nothing. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I repeatedly licked my lips and attempted to swallow. My sore and parched throat wasn’t the reason for my silence, though. I said nothing because there would be no point. He hadn’t heard me for years, so why would he hear me now?

  “My life, Sarah, every breath that I take, every beat of my heart. Every decision I make, consciously or unconsciously, is ultimately about you . . . for you, us, our boys. You’re my world, my reason for existing. I thought I was yours. I thought the boys and I were your world, but I obviously got that wrong.”

  He stared at me for a few long moments, and I focused on the column of his throat as he swallowed hard.

  “Why? Start talking, Sares, tell me why the fuck you would do something so selfish, so fucking spiteful, mean, and uncaring to our kids and me? Start fucking talking.”

  A loud, raspy sob escaped me as I shook my head.

  “Fucking tell me! Tell me why death was a better option than life with me? Start fucking talking,” he roared, but I just continued to sob and shake my head.

  The blood pressure cuff tightened around my arm as the door to my room opened and a nurse came through it.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked Liam before turning to me. “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll let the doctor know.” She was already grabbing my notes from the end of the bed and jotting something down. “How’d you feel, can I get you anything?” she asked with a smile.

  “A drink please,” I croaked out.

  “Sure thing. I’ll go fetch you a jug of iced water and let the doctor know you’re conscious. Won’t be long.” She headed out of the room, her smile still in place.

  My eyes slid back to Liam. He had both hands pushed deep into the front pockets of his jeans, forcing the fabric down low on his hips. There was a gap of about two inches before his plain white T-shirt started, and I could see the trail of hair that led down below the waistband of his jeans. I knew where that trail of hair started, and I was fully aware of the delights that were waiting where that trail of hair ended.

  Liam Delaney was so fucking good-looking, and at one time, he worshipped the ground I walked on. Then, one day, he didn’t. He stopped seeing me. He stopped hearing me. It was like I no longer existed.

  The door to my room opened again and the nurse walked back through, carrying a jug of water and a plastic cup with a straw in it.

  She explained that the doctor would be in shortly, all while helping me to sit up and plumping my pillows behind me. She filled the cup with water and helped me to take a long sip through the straw. The whole time I was aware of Liam’s eyes on me—staring, hard, cold.

  Nurse Judy, according to her badge, left the room and the silence hung heavy between Liam and me.

  “Why’d you do it, Sares? I’m your husband, do you not think that I at least deserve an explanation?”

  I took in a shaky breath and tried to arrange the words in my head. I knew that once I said them aloud, there would be no going back. The guilt and self-loathing that had held me captive and consumed me for the last six months crawled from my toes to my belly to my chest. It clawed its way from my insides out, until I was smothered, barely able to breathe.

  The fog that I had been living in for the past few years made everyday life almost impossible, but after I did what I did six months ago, things just spiralled and spiralled until I was so far down the rabbit hole I couldn’t see a way back.

  Then the dog happened. I killed the dog. It could’ve been one of my children. I put them in danger. It just confirmed things for me. I was no good. There was a reason people left me. And last night it all became clear, death became my only option.

  “Why aren’t we enough? Why are me and the boys so inconsequential to you that you could do something like this?”

  I let out another sob. I had no excuses and no energy, need, or desire to lie.

  “I did it for you and the boys.” I told him, my voice sounding huskier than normal.

  “What the fuck does that mean? How was it for us? We would never want you dead, you’re the centre of our universe,” he stated, matter of factly.

  Oh, if only it were true. I shook my head in disagreement.

  “You don’t even see me,” I told him, desperately trying not to cry.

  “You’re all I fucking see, Sare, you’re all I’ve seen since the day we met.”

  He was lying, and if he knew the real me, knew what I’d done, he wouldn’t be saying that.

  “I’ve been in a dark and lonely place for so long. I wasn’t coping, not at all. You didn’t see that, did you?” I accused.

  This, this conversation right here was just one of the reasons I made the decision to end my own life. Call me selfish, a coward, call me what you will but anything was better than living my life under the weight of the deepest, darkest of depressions and the all-consuming guilt that shredded me. I was terrified that I would eventually end up blaming my husband for it. It wasn’t his fault; it wasn’t my faul
t.

  It just was what it was.

  His eyes looked all over my face, and I could actually see the change in his expression as realisation dawned on him. He was actually seeing me for the first time in years, and realised that the light had gone from my eyes.

  “Why didn’t you talk to me?” he asked quietly.

  “You never want to talk.” I didn’t want to sound accusatory, but I couldn’t seem to hide it from my voice.

  “We go out with your work mates, and you have so much to say to everyone. I turn up at your office, and you’re deep in conversation with Mel, Liz, or Cassie, or any one of the other women there, but when you come home to me, all I get is silence.” My bottom lip trembled as I said the last few words. I hated myself for it.

  “Sarah, I don’t talk because I didn’t think that I had to.” His voice was so soft that it filled me with sadness. I felt it right down to my bones. “You’re my sanctuary, my safe place. I come home to you and our babies, pull on my sweats and lie on the sofa with my hands down the front of my jocks, and I chill out. I can’t do that anywhere else. No one else sees me like that, just you and the kids. I leave all the shit that I deal with at work at the office. I spend the entire day counting down the hours till I can come home to you. Till I can bath the kids, tuck them in and eat dinner with you. I can’t wait till I can then lay with my head in your lap and switch off my brain.” His jaw was now trembling as he spoke.

  Mine mimicked his, and we both broke a bit more.

  “I’m not ignoring you when I do all of that Sarah, I’m soaking up every moment. I’m cherishing every fucking sight, sound, and smell of our home so that I can recall them the next day while I’m sitting in my office and things are going to shit. Those thoughts, feelings, and memories are what get me through each and every day. You . . . you, the home, and the life you provide me and the kids with, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. So don’t ever fucking tell me I don’t see you.”

  He wipes his nose across the back of his hand.