by Criss Copp
I’m leaning forward and I feel myself dipping in to kiss her. I don’t feel any resistance from her and so I keep my eyes on her the whole time I lean in, wanting to be certain I’m not wrongly guessing my welcome. She closes her eyes and tilts her face up, so I move in further and begin to claim her lips. I close my eyes around the same time my lips softly push against hers and any and all fear is swept away. In my mind it is her. Shae’s not here and its Isi that I’m kissing, Isi that I want and it feels so right.
“What the hell?” shouts a woman from behind me.
I groan and lift up, turning to see another one of those fake women that I find repulsive, standing there in shock at what she’s walked in on.
“Mom?”
“Belle, can you please tell me what you think you’re doing right now?”
“Lying on the couch underneath Silas. I was about to let him kiss me, but you walked in and ruined the moment. So now I’m simply pissed off.” she growls.
“Language young lady.”
I’m moving away from Isi, but only enough for her to sit up.
“Silas, this is my Mom; Mom, this is Silas.” She introduces us. Neither of us makes any move to consummate the introduction with a handshake.
Mrs. Mulligan is looking at me with disgust. Great, what have I done now?
“Is this one of those young men you’ve been having threesomes with?”
I guffaw; it completely bursts through like an unwanted grunting laugh.
“You spoke to Katherine I assume.” Isi groans.
“She phoned me in tears.”
“Then she shouldn’t have approached me with her self-righteous air of magnificence and haughty superiority.” Isi explains.
“Are you moving out to live with two young men?” she shouts.
“No. But I may move out.”
“This is the same Silas that lost you your job?” she seethes.
“Excuse me?” Isi suddenly becomes animated.
“I spoke to that Ethan, and he tells me you took advantage of a young mentally ill boy, to the point he almost raped you.” she shouts.
“I’m sorry?” I jump in.
“I’m not speaking to you.” she says.
“If you’re speaking about me and in front of me; you most certainly are speaking to me.” I growl.
She blinks and turns back to Isi.
“What are you doing here with a boy that practically raped you?” she shouts.
Isi is breathing seriously hard; her hands are clenched, and she’s gritting her teeth.
“How dare you.” she begins, “How dare you insult Silas like that. Whatever Silas and I do or don’t do is completely and utterly consensual. I don’t require your permission and I sure as hell wouldn’t ask if I did.”
“He’s mentally unstable.”
“No I’m not. I’m more stable than you appear to be.” I seethe.
“I’m not sick like you.” she says rudely.
Isi stands up abruptly and slaps her mom hard across the face. I stay seated, because if I slap the woman, I’ll break her jaw.
Isi is shaking with rage. “How can you stand there and insult my friend like he doesn’t have feelings or matter at all?”
“I will not be spoken to and treated like this in my own home.” Mrs. Mulligan begins to cry, holding her cheek that has turned a rosy shade. She goes to turn away, but Isi grabs her arm and pushes her till she’s next to an armchair. She then throws her into it. Isi is stronger than she looks.
“You will fucking hear me out, or God so help me, I will tape your mouth shut and tie you to that chair.” She screams at her.
Mrs. Mulligan’s face falls.
“You’re sicker than most people I know.” Isi begins, shouting each and every word. “You are an alcoholic, sadistic bitch that takes pleasure in making her only child feel like a piece of shit.”
“This has got to be a joke.” Mrs. Mulligan begins to cry.
“Well then, the jokes’ on me. Because I’m the biggest disappointment of your life, and I’m the one that bears the brunt of the constant reminders you provide. Having to put up with being your daughter is a joke.” Isi spews out.
“You haven’t been my daughter since the day you enlisted.” Mrs. Mulligan erupts pointing her finger violently at Isi.
“Thank fucking Christ for small mercies then and thank you for clarifying that for me. Because I was worried that I had to have something to do with you; when in fact you’re not even related to me. I fucking hope you’re happy; you can now live your lonely, hopeless, shallow life surrounded by fake beauty and nothingness. You won’t see me again; I’ll collect my stuff when you’re out. Silas come on, let’s go.” she states, stomping over to me and grabbing my elbow to drag me up.
But she stops and instead grabs up the photo album we had been looking at. She begins to tear pages out of it before slamming the album to the floor and stomping on it. I stand and move to the side slightly.
I’m getting to see what it’s probably like to see me in a rage, because she then goes to the fireplace and grabs a poker in order to smash it down on the photo album and do more damage; she doesn’t stop until it is in pieces. She then swipes everything off the mantelpiece, while Mrs. Mulligan screams in the background.
Suddenly Isi finds her stride, running to the kitchen. I’m momentarily stunned before I hear glass smashing, and fear she’s hurt. So I run in there to find her elbow deep in a huge wine fridge; wine bottle glass and red and white wine pooling below her on the floor. She pulls out another several bottles and drops them onto the tiles, but they don’t all break. She bends down and forcibly throws them down so that they do smash.
This is raw. I’ve been here, I’ve been engulfed by these feelings and I instinctually know it’s good to let it go… to get it all out; at least that’s my experience. Maybe not by fucking up her house, but I can’t see a punching bag anywhere, and I kind of hate her mom anyway.
I just watch her, watch her smash away her pain. I watch and I understand the burning rage; and although what she is doing could be construed as criminal; it also isn’t. In my mind and with my understanding of how things work in life, it is the right way to behave given the situation. Isi is releasing everything; all her mother’s hateful words; all those years of not being good enough for simply wanting to be herself. She’s crying and screaming and ranting.
Pent up energy and pain has to be traded with something and she’s channeling it into rage. This concept is nothing new to me; it’s the way my emotions run when I’m no longer in control of myself. Unfortunately my emotional rages are exacerbated by the fact that my brain chemistry is geared to naturally slide into a mania or depression, a swinging pendulum of rage or despair when I’m not looking after myself.
I find myself analyzing Isi; because I have just witnessed her stand up for me to her mother and I realize that Shae would never have done that. She didn’t want her parents knowing I had bipolar since they have mental illness prejudices.
In fact Shae had no plans to ever tell them for as long as we were together, which I had thought would be forever. That never could’ve worked out; but while we were together I loved her and I was willing to believe that it would work out. Of course, now I understand that they finally found out and convinced her to leave me. Shae never could say no to her parents. She was soft and easy to control wherever they were concerned. She is very different to Isi.
I think Shae and I got bogged down in the idealistic concept of love being able to withstand anything, especially if you didn’t admit it was there, lurking under the carpet. I don’t think we truly understood the nature of real love; that it needed to be open and honest, regardless of what others think; in order to for it to remain strong and steadfast.
For us, as adulthood swept in; it was clear that keeping such an important secret forever was an enormous concept, filled with huge responsibility. And once Shae saw me every day and couldn’t escape or have time out; I guess that responsibility beca
me too much for her.
Shae wouldn’t have been able to keep me contained, and thus a secret. She was too soft; I just would’ve repeatedly broken her till she hated me for it.
I’m realizing in this moment that what I really need is someone to stand up to me, as well as beside me through the hardship. I need a strong, real woman that can understand and accept me without fear or regret… and no secrets.
I need someone who’s not willing to hide anything about me; someone who’ll stand up for me like I will for them in return.
I breathe in deeply as the sudden onset of acceptance filters through.
I, I just moved past Shae. Right now in this moment; watching a beautiful and broken woman combust, I move past Shae and the previous life that I’d envisaged.
Dr. Jensen would be impressed.
Shae could never have become my future; she was never going to be cut out for that. She was only ever going to be a blissful stopover in my journey through life.
I’m still standing here, watching and giving space; waiting for Isi to burn out her rage.
All the bottles are broken at her feet, and there is so much wine it has flooded over to me and past my shoes, probably as far as the pristine carpets behind me.
She’s crying hopelessly, and I wait for that moment she needs me to step in. But her mother should be watching this; the tremendously selfish bitch should see what she has done to her daughter.
I suddenly feel saddened by the display rather than worried, and I recognize that this has gone on for an extensive amount of time; maybe I should’ve stepped in ages ago. She’s been at it now for nearly ten minutes. I know it doesn’t sound too long, but believe me, it is.
She’s beginning to lag, she’s tired and yet she just keeps going.
I walk a few steps toward her and see her face. She’s so forlorn and broken; it makes my heart swell, I want to save her; I want to wrap her up and build a fortress for her to live in till she heals. But I guess that’s what her bubble is for. Holy fucking shit. I’m an idiot.
“Fuck.” I whisper.
“Isi, your bubble. Your, shit.” I can’t wait for her to combust herself free of this, her God damn bubble’s burst. That metaphor she used for her walls of containment have been broken.
I was getting over Shae while Isi was falling apart… not venting, she was falling to pieces.
I walk to her and despite the fact that she’s turned her anger over to the glass in the doors of the kitchen cabinets, smashing the poker into them; I grab her and risk a blow to the head.
She lets me lift her up though; so swinging her into my arms like a bride, I take her via the lounge area, where her mother is bawling into her hands as she sits in the armchair; I grab Isi’s purse, and then I carry her outside to her car; where I buckle her into the passenger seat and illegally hop into the driver’s seat and drive the car away, since I’m only licensed to ride a motorcycle here in America.
***
“Oh man, you’re going to get so busted.” Hank says.
“No I’m not, because you’re going to help me.”
I carry Isi into my room and place her on my bed. She’s gone catatonic. She’s completely broken.
She’s just staring into nothingness… completely flat.
I run my hands through my hair and pull hard at the roots.
“Fuck.” I scream.
“Isi.” Hank says, moving to her. “What did you do man? She looks like she’s OD’d.”
“Her mother’s a mega bitch. It’s her fault.”
“You’ve gotta call someone, an ambulance, anyone. This isn’t normal.”
“I know; I fucking know all right?”
I crawl up the bed to Isi, she’s lost. Somewhere inside she’s wandering around lost and I just want to join her. I think I love her – more than a friend. I think that’s what I was doing before; realizing I was falling for Isi at the same time I was releasing Shae for good. It was interfering with my ability to process that I should’ve stepped in immediately, because I was trying to sort out the emotional shit inside of me.
“Isi, please don’t go.” I plead with her.
She hears me, she hears me and she begins to cry. Great sobs again. I thought she couldn’t cry anymore, she must be dehydrated by now.
She’s crying in a way that distorts her pretty face and makes her look mortally wounded.
“Isi, please tell me what to do.”
“Doesn’t she work for a psychiatrist dude or something?” Hank asks.
“Dr. Jensen.”
I’ll call her. I look at the clock on the wall and note that it’s nearing 5pm. She leaves about now. I’m so nervous, but I get up off the bed and pull out the booklet I have stuffed in the desk drawer, and then reaching into my pocket, I grab out my mobile and dial the number for her office. If she’s with a client, I’ll have to leave a voicemail. If she’s already gone, I’ll have to leave a voicemail. If she’s there and she answers, I’ll have to break down and cry.
“Dr Jensen.” she answers.
Shit she’s there.
“Hello?” she asks.
“Dr. Jensen.” I croak, “It’s Silas.”
“Silas? What’s wrong?”
“Isi’s broken, she won’t stop crying and she smashed her mom’s house to pieces.”
“Damn, where are you.”
“The unit.” I begin to cry. “I was stupid; I let her break.”
“She’s with you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be right there.” She hangs up.
I pull Isi into me and Hank sits on the bedside stroking her hair back from her face. He goes to the bathroom we share and gets a wet cloth. Then he’s back beside us and handing the cloth to me.
“Here, maybe this can help.” He says, looking lost.
“Thanks.”
He nods and goes out the door. Then he returns.
“The other two aren’t here yet, they’re probably scoring.”
I’m wiping her face. Then I’m pulling her body closely back into mine, curling around her. Hank sits on the foot of the bed.
A knock at the door sounds. Hank gets up and goes downstairs to answer it.
Not long after, Dr. Jensen comes into the room and sits on the bed next to Isi.
“What happened?”
I tell her everything that I witnessed.
“Shit. Okay, this isn’t the end of the world. We can definitely move forward from here. In fact, she’ll be even better when she reaches the other side of this.” she says, patting my arm which is currently surrounding Isi, pulling her body into mine as I hold her.
She pulls out her phone.
“I can get into so much trouble for this, but I can’t help feeling a little responsible.” she mutters, dialing a number.
“Why?” I croak.
“Because I like her.” Dr. Jensen states firmly. Then she holds her finger up to me in a wait signal.
“Paula? Jean.” she begins.
“Look, could you squeeze a young lady into your program over there?”
She waits and nods; she chews her fingernail.
“Veterans Affairs.” she blurts and stops to listen again.
“Now, I need it now.”
I’m looking at Isi, and she’s looking me in the eyes. The look is far from blank. It contains so much pain; I understand her completely. I place the palm of my hand on her cheek and smooth it over her soft skin.
“I’m sorry.” she whispers so quiet I can barely hear it.
“Shhh, it’s my fault, I should’ve known better.”
I lean in and kiss her lips. I couldn’t care less that I have witnesses. It’s just a gentle kiss. A promise to look after her.
I pull back and look back at her and her eyes are once again awash in tears.
I sigh.
“Come on Silas. I need to take her to a private recovery house.” Dr. Jensen states. She’s been watching us.
“Aren’t they for drug and alcohol recovery?�
�� Hank asks.
“Not this one. This is a Mental Health facility. But it’s very low key. She’ll be able to come and go Silas. She’ll be able to get counseling too, and live somewhere else for a while.”
“Okay, but I have to come with you.”
“You can’t come with us Silas.”
“Either I go with you and settle her in, or I’ll hop in the car I’m illegally driving and follow you to where you take her. It’s entirely your choice.” I growl.
Dr. Jensen sighs.
“Put her in my car, and I’ll drive.” she says.
***
We’ve travelled up into the hills, and I’m glad, because I’ll be able to drive up here in Isi’s car without being caught, at least I hope that’s the case.
“I can no longer see you in a professional capacity Silas.” Dr. Jensen says from the driver’s seat.
“Why?” I ask.
Isi and I are in the back seat together; I’m holding her to me and cradling her head; stroking her hair.
“Things have changed, and my professional conduct is at risk of being questioned. I’m going to drop you from my list of clients and ask someone else to take over your care.” She explains.
“Why?” I’m still confused. She’s the best psychiatrist I’ve ever seen or come across.
She sighs.
“Because you’re in a relationship with Isobelle, and since that places you in a more personal forum with me, I can’t treat you anymore.” She argues.
I don’t correct her when she looks in the mirror for me to do so, and so she continues.
“I’m responsible for upholding professional boundaries, Silas. Isobelle is someone I occasionally associate with outside the bounds of professionalism. She is also someone who recently started working for me. I can’t treat you anymore unless you walk away from her.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I growl.
She sighs again and nods her head.
“Okay, I’ll organize it tomorrow.” She says.
“I’ll never be able to talk to you again?”
“Not in a professional capacity.”
“That sucks.”