Shadowed Soul

  Beth and the baby were sitting in the park on the same bench where Beth and I had eaten an ice-cream an eternity ago. From a safe distance, I watched as Beth threw pieces of bread to the ducks on the pond. As always my initial reaction was to turn tale and run, to remove myself and let her truly get on with her life. There were so many things I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to really understand that my love and affection for her had not vanished in the slightest, in fact it was as strong as it had ever been but there were other things that I did not have the strength to impart to her. Since Christmas, I had been plagued by my dream of suicide. The suicide nightmare had visited me once before I went to Dorothy and Pete’s and often since we had parted. Every night it varied slightly. But its outcome was always the same and always caused me to awaken dripping sweat, heart pounding. Each nightmare woke me with a longing to get back to the world where I was walking toward my wife and baby, or my old place of work, or my mother’s house or the many other locations that my dream had incorporated. The dream’s intent horrified me: My ultimate demise.

  As always, one glance at Bailey and the furious wagging of his tail upon sensing Beth’s presence made me continue toward the old bench.

  “Hi, Beth,” I said as we reached the bench and she turned to me, a tentative smile brightening up her pretty features.

  “Hi, Thomas. How are you?” she asked with bubbly excitement.

  “Ah, you know,” was all I could muster. It was clear I stagnated. I preferred not to get her hopes up by pretending that my life had moved on in any meaningful direction. That would mean I would have to commit to focusing my energy in that particular direction, and I just did not have it in me.

  “Hey, Bailey,” said Beth reaching out to pet him. Bailey pushed his head into her so she had access to his ears, his tail wagging happily as she ruffled the fur and soft skin between his ears and his skull. “Thomas, have you given any more thought to what we’ve been talking about, honey?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I gazed at the pond, marveling at the way the sun was dancing on the water. “Look at that, Beth. Two weeks ago the pond was frozen and now, it’s changing.”

  “Thawing its pipes?” probed Beth cautiously, with a gentle smile.

  “I guess the world revolves and most things change,” I answered, deliberately deviating from her hopeful probe.

  “And, have you come to any conclusions?” persisted Beth patiently.

  Despite our many conversations about going to the counselor my ex-boss had recommended, I was still resistant. I felt as though no matter how professional this person claimed to be they would find fault in me. They would judge my thoughts and actions. I was also afraid that the counselor would inform me that I was largely incurable, that this state of misery would stalk me throughout the rest of my life, that I would die clinically depressed.

  “I don’t know, Beth…”

  “You do know, Thomas,” her voice cracked with emotion. “When you say that it makes me feel I’ve lost you forever and I don’t think I could bear that.”

  “You haven’t lost me forever,” I said. “I’m still here.”

  “I have lost you if you don’t want to do anything to help yourself, baby,” replied Beth quietly. “We know that you can’t do this by yourself and no matter how hard I want to make you better I can’t either. All we can do is find someone to help you.” Beth paused and sighed. “I want to be with you again, honey, but when you’re like this it seems pointless because you won’t let me near you. You won’t let us near you, Jonathan, your son!” She was right; I had been sitting with her already for some time and had not yet reached out to my son.

  “Hey, Jonathan,” I whispered, and awkwardly reached over to shake his tiny hand. He babbled, delighted to see me.

  “Thomas, you do everything in your power to push us away and the truth is, I’m not strong enough to keep doing this,” said Beth firmly.

  “I know,” I replied sullenly. I understood this was difficult for Beth to deal with my chronic condition. In fact at times of clarity, I had a total understanding that this was probably harder for her than it was for me. She was the one who had to navigate around my external misery while raising our son without her own seeing-eye dog.

  Beth’s enduring dedication to me had remained consistent since the very beginning of our courtship. I admired her patience now, holding Jonathan, coaxing me, and I recalled her first encounter with the Shadowed Soul.

  “Thomas, are you there?” Beth’s sultry voice had a note of concern.

  I had been lying in my bed, beaten and bruised by the Shadowed Soul and terrified by his reappearance. My demon had been so conspicuously absent since I had started seeing Beth a few months before that I had dared to believe maybe he had left me for good. However, as always, he found a way to insinuate himself into my life again. I had not told Beth about him, not even in a clinical way. I was in love with Beth and the idea that I might lose her paralyzed me. It seemed the deeper my love for Beth grew, the more leverage the Shadowed Soul held over me.

  “You’re going to lose her,” admonished the Shadowed Soul. “You’re not loveable, Thomas, but we already know that.”

  “Thomas, are you there?” Hearing Beth’s sweet voice on my answering machine was torture. I had wanted to answer the telephone and ask her to come make everything better but I assumed she would break off all contact with me if she knew.

  “I know you’re there, Thomas, I can see the light in your kitchen, you miser, you wouldn’t have left it on if you were out. Open up, I’m outside and I want to see you.” Beth’s persistence filled me with conflicting emotions.

  I really wanted to see her but I did not want her to witness the kind of man she had chosen to love. Deep within my heart I held nothing but love and affection for this funny and intelligent woman. However, I was unsure of the strength of her feelings toward me. I wanted her attraction for me to flourish before she found out how damaged I was.

  “Thomas, please answer your phone. I really want to talk to you. I need to talk to you. I need to find out if I've done something wrong.”

  It was Beth’s need that had galvanized me into action. I opened the door and allowed her inside my hell. I could not let her think that she had done something wrong because that was not fair to her. As Beth and Bailey walked into my ramshackle apartment I had felt dread. It was so good to see Beth and Bailey but the trepidation within me was amplified by her presence. I feared at that moment Beth would sense my affliction and bolt and I would be adrift once more.

  “Why haven't I heard from you, Thomas?” asked Beth, concerned. “Was it something I said? Is it because I’m considered ‘disabled’”?

  I had been surprised her lovely eyes were red and puffy; she had been crying. Over me! At that moment Beth’s affection for me penetrated my addled mind. I owed her an explanation.

  “Beth, I don’t know how to tell you this,” I mumbled. “I have a condition. I can’t be around people all the time.” I explained how this mood often grabbed hold of me and shook me until I was almost broken. To tell another soul had been cathartic but rocked my confidence. Three hours passed and Beth still listened intently, often encouraging me to continue when I faltered. Too humiliated I avoided describing the more unsavory manifestations. Talking to Beth drained the poison from an infected wound. I felt clear. Honesty and sharing had temporarily beaten down the Shadowed Soul. Truthful communication released me from the ring of dense misery that had surrounded me for weeks. My fear that Beth would bolt ceased to be an issue. Her care was the catalyst that allowed me to finally talk about my lonely childhood. I had told her how my father had vanished from my life. I had let her know about the disregard my mother expressed toward me. Dark grief was alleviated that I thought would never be released into the light. And Beth just sat there nodding and smiling, encouraging me to tell her everything.

  Once I finished, a deathly silence seemed to fall upon the apartment and I gazed at this beautiful young woman wondering what could
possibly happen next: Would she excuse herself to the bathroom and sneak out; or stay and be my friend?

  “Okay, Thomas, I want you to promise me something,” said Beth. “I want you to promise me that you will always find the strength to talk to me about this.”

  “What? I mean, you're not put off?” I asked, astounded.

  “Nope,” said Beth, smiling. “You have an illness and why would I be terrified by that?”

  “Because I let it rule my life,” I answered.

  “So don't. I don't think you do.” Beth paused and frowned. “I don't fully understand how you feel, Thomas. I simply can't because I’m not in your skin and I don't experience it myself. Obviously there are times when I get a little bit down but that's normal, everybody does. You’re the victim of an illness, and that's not your fault. I mean, do you think that I am to blame for my lack of eyesight?”

  “No, of course not,” I declared.

  “Then what kind of person would I be if I blamed you for your depression? The thing is, Thomas, I think I might be falling in love with you and if that means that I have to love the depression or at least accept it as part of who you are, then I can never blame you and all I can do is try to be there for you when you need me.”

  Tears or relief spilled from my eyes. This beautiful woman thought she was falling in love with me, she had used that word, a word that I had thought I would never hear from anyone and this beautiful, perfect girl had said it to me. At that moment and for the first time in my adult life I had felt that I belong in this world, that I had a place that was not defined by my depression. It was a place that included everything else about me. The very notion that Beth had fallen in love with me when I was well was a validation. This was confirmation that I was truly lovable.

  “So, I’m asking you again, Thomas, can you promise me that you will always let me know how you're feeling,” said Beth. “The illness you've got is not one that leaves any bread crumb clues. You know, I can’t read your mind. Maybe you’ve spent so much time hiding from it and hating it away that you have become an expert hider and hater. I can be there for you if I know what you need. Okay?”

  As I made that promise to this woman I had felt that I had been saved. Now, as I sat with Beth and Jonathan on our park bench, I realized I had been saved only long enough to begin a life together. The stakes had been raised. To keep my promise, I would have to do more than just give lip service.

  “Thomas, when will you go and see the counselor?” asked Beth patient as always.

  I shifted my attention from the dappled sunlight on the cold water and I looked at her. The memory of my promise burned.

  “I will,” I said furtively. “Soon.” Beth smiled, relieved. I believed that seeing a counselor would do absolutely no good but I realized that I could not let Beth down again.

  We sat on the bench for another two hours just talking about the mechanics of everyday life, the baby was getting larger I could see that, and his face was grew expressive. Jonathan developed his own little character and began to stamp his personality on the world. I understood that so far I had been nothing but the occasional visitor. My son was growing up without a father and even though I felt no affection for him I knew that I had to get myself sorted out so I could function as a father.

  At the end of our bench meeting, Beth tucked Jonathan into his stroller and navigated back to Dorothy and Pete’s. Bailey and I made our way to the empty apartment with only the promise of making an appointment with the counselor weighing me down. Obsessed with my own concerns about whether or not to dial for help, not once did I concern myself that the seeing-eye dog of my legally blind wife was shepherding me instead of her. Not once did I think, what if she gets lost on her way home or she is stuck somewhere on public transportation, helpless with our infant? As Bailey and I watched Beth’s bus roll away, an idea sparked within me. A microscopic synapse connected with another one and another and it occurred to me there was someone else, besides a shrink, I very much needed to see.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  My resolve had evaporated. Now I stood outside Quexinor, my guts churning. I had made another enormous mistake. I had come here with the idea of speaking to Steve Mitchell, my old boss. My intention was to ask why he had told my wife his reason for firing me. Whether his actions were illegal or not, it was a betrayal of my personal privacy that angered me greatly. I was also suspicious as to why he gave Beth the name of a counselor. He was probably gloating that he had saved Quexinor money by firing an ill person rather than deal with the complication of providing individualized support. I fantasized that the Americans with Disabilities Act would serve to get Steve Mitchell fired for having canned a man with depression. But, I had to let that one go. I did not want to be categorized as a person with a disability. I had a condition, a treatable condition, I reminded myself. Steve’s actions perplexed me. Although we were never pals, I did not perceive a reason for him to mess with my personal life. On the other hand he did have to fire me; I had spent hours looking up online pornography when I was being paid to do a job. But to tell my wife was, in my opinion, a worse breech of professionalism.

  Now that I was here, Bailey beside me, I realized I was unable to force myself to go inside Quexinor. My former colleagues would gawk judgmentally. Perhaps I should just leave. Perhaps Steve's motivations would remain forever a mystery to me?

  “Thomas?” exclaimed a concerned voice. I turned to face my ex-boss approaching the building with three former colleagues. Steve was not pleased to see me. He may have spoiled my life but the last thing he would want would be for his employees to know of his disdain for all workers. I glared back at him and he nodded a little before turning to the three. “Meet you guys inside in a bit.”

  My former boss and I stood there on the street like trigger-happy gun fighters from the old West. The hesitation in Steve’s face pleased me: Seeing a man like Steve Mitchell lost for words was a small victory in my powerless life.

  “How’ve you been, Thomas?” asked Steve. To the untrained ear it might sound as though he genuinely felt concern for me. But I knew he didn’t really care.

  “Fine, Steve, I've been fine,” I replied, emotionless.

  “Good, good. So, can I help you with something?” asked Steve.

  “Maybe you can answer a question for me, Steve? Why did you tell Beth what happened?

  “I was worried about you, Thomas,” replied Steve without having to fish for a reply. His tone seemed genuine, however I knew what he was like and knew that this was nothing more than his deliberate torture of me.

  “No, you weren't, you just wanted to make my life even worse, didn't you?” I exclaimed. I was not here for an argument, I was here for answers but to hear has lies was too much from me. I wanted him to know the ramifications his actions had caused. “You didn't have to tell her why you sacked me.” Silence hung between us. Regret softened his eyes and he nodded slightly.

  “You're right. I didn't,” said Steve. “I shouldn't have told her why I had to let you go. It was unprofessional of me. You may hate me, Thomas, but if you can accept that I did it for what I thought were the right reasons then maybe you will begin to understand?” He looked at Bailey and smiled a little. “Handsome dog. I had an English Springer Spaniel a few years ago. I loved that dog, his name was Jake. He was a great friend. Do you mind if I say hello to your dog?”

  The idea of this man touching Bailey angered me. Part of me wanted Steve to reach out so that Bailey could bite him or at least snarl. Bailey was a good judge of character and would have nothing to do with an evil individual. To my surprise Bailey wagged his tail as Steve reached forward and then moved his head forward to allow Steve to pet him. Steve appeared as happy as a young boy petting Bailey's head.

  “Can I buy you a coffee, Thomas? There are some things I feel I need to explain to you.” To my surprise I found myself accepting his offer. Steve called his office.

  “Hey, something important has come up. I’ll be an hour late,” he said.
I was something important.

  We walked in silence to the coffee stand near the park. Bailey and I sat on a bench letting Steve buy the coffees. Deliberately, I ordered what I knew to be the most expensive coffee on the menu, a pointless revenge that gave me petty satisfaction. After we sipped in silence for a time, Steve explained his position.

  “Did you call that counselor?” he asked mildly.

  “No,” I replied sternly.

  “Okay, it's up to you, of course, but I would recommend her.”

  “Steve, I think the fact that you sent me the name of a psychiatrist was probably more insulting than you telling Beth why I had been fired.” I wanted him to understand the implications of the boundaries he had crossed.

  “I know and believe me, I am sorry, Thomas, I never wanted to interfere,” said Steve. “You had enough on your mind without me sticking my nose into your private life. If it's any consolation I didn't do it lightly. I don't want you to think that it was ill intent, Thomas.” Steve paused, ruminating. “I was worried about you, that's all, because I know what you're going through, not personally I can never know that, but I do have some knowledge of how you're feeling and how it affects you. If I had been able to keep you on, if I had been able to hide what you had been doing then I would have, but we had an audit and your online activity was seen by people who didn't know you.”

  My anger rose again because this reeked of the excuse of a weak leader, blaming a faceless entity for his decision. I knew I had done wrong but I was attributing the blame to the Shadowed Soul.