by Dale Mayer
At that, her laughter fell away, and she stared at her bowl. “No,” she said. “I don’t.”
As if sensing that the mood had shifted, he nodded and started working on his plate again.
She continued to eat for several minutes. “How long have you been here?” she asked when she could, trying to restore the camaraderie that had been there before the topic of children was mentioned.
“Too long and yet, not long enough,” he said. “Maybe about six weeks. But I’ll have another couple months anyway. I’ve hit a snag and slowed my progress.”
“Sometimes you need longer,” she said, “but, even from the time I’ve been here, I’ve seen some fantastic progress.”
“And I have too, in some ways,” he said. “And then the hardest things cause you to slip backward, and you just don’t know what to do about that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
“You could give me your name,” Heath said.
“Hailee.” She smiled. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
He chuckled. “No it’s my burden to bear.”
“But remember,” she said. “Just because it’s your burden doesn’t mean others can’t be there to give you a helping hand.”
He looked at her appreciatively. “So you did remember our conversation.”
“Not only remembered it but I’ve also thought about it a lot,” she said, “because you’re right. And some of the pathways that I’ve taken haven’t been the easiest, but they have had their own rewards. I keep forgetting to focus on the rewards and not on what seemed like punishments.”
“I think punishment says I need to place blame,” he said slowly. “And I’m a bad one for that too. Part of my problem is guilt. I feel so guilty for an accident that happened when I was driving that cost the life of my friends. I keep forgetting that I need to rejoice in the fact that I am still alive. And that they didn’t suffer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “Losing someone is not easy.”
He looked up at her sharply, his gaze assessing.
She immediately dropped her gaze to her plate. And then her shoulders sagged, and she nodded. “Yes, I’ve lost somebody too.”
“And that’s a bond that we don’t really want to have,” he said quietly. “But we both understand how much of a loss that can be.”
Her lips kicked up in the corners, and she nodded, but she didn’t answer him. She felt his gaze on her again. She continued to work through her giant bowl of Greek salad. When she was halfway through it, she realized she might have taken too much. “You know what? When you’re so hungry,” she said, “you just don’t how much to serve yourself.”
“You don’t realize,” he said, in a parody of her words, “that when you’re so hungry, you take big bites out of life because you think you can handle it all, but you can’t.”
She sat back and stared at him. “Where did that come from?”
“I was just sitting here, thinking about how anxious I was to do so much and then thinking that, just because I wanted to do it, I could do it. But I realized just how really big a bite of that plateful I was signing up for.”
“Isn’t that the point in time where you step back and take smaller bites?” she asked curiously.
He grinned at her. “Is that what you did?”
“No. I fell into this dark bottomless pit. I forgot all about taking bites and handling what was happening in my world and came close to giving up,” she admitted.
“So did I, but I think climbing back out of that pit is the lesson here. If you can’t jump up and grab the whole thing all at once, you’re supposed to do it little by little.”
“But little by little, it doesn’t feel the same,” she murmured.
“No, but the progress is there nonetheless. It’s just you can’t keep counting on it day to day because the day-to-day progress doesn’t show. But, if you were to check in once a week or once a month, you would see a more significant increment, and, therefore, it would be more visible.”
“But when it’s not measurable?”
“Like dealing with loss? Or guilt?”
She nodded. “Yes, precisely that.”
He smiled and said, “You know what? According to what everybody’s trying to tell me, that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do. It’s to not look at our achievements and to not grade them on a day-to-day basis but more to acknowledge that we’ve gotten through another day and hopefully without feeling as guilty as we did the day before.”
“I wonder if I’ll ever get there.”
“I can tell you will. I’m not there yet myself, but I have seen some progress in my own life,” he admitted. “But I don’t want you to tell anybody about it.” He laughed. “Because they might make me sit in more of those therapy sessions.” And he scrunched up his face into a comical frown.
She burst out laughing. “Oh my, aren’t they the worst?”
He stared at her. “Have you been to any of the ones here though?”
She immediately shook her head. “No. I attended some, and you know something? They were trying to get my head straightened around, but I’m not sure that they even understood that it takes time before you can even see that your head is screwed up. You’re so caught up in the loss and the whirlwind of pain that you don’t want to hear much, and your doors are shut, so you can’t hear whatever it is they’re trying to say.”
He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a long moment. “You really do understand, don’t you?”
Her lips quirked. “And you have no idea what I’d do to not understand.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, “because I’m the same.”
She dropped her gaze once again to her plate and realized that, although he was the same, his pain was different.
“And I can see that you’re trying to separate your pain from mine,” he said, leaning across the table, his hand reaching out to cover hers. “That your pain is more personal, that your pain is more intense. And it probably is because it wasn’t a husband, a brother, a father, or a child in my case. But they were my two best friends, and they were my bros. I was raised in a foster family, and these were the only two men in my entire life that I ever bonded with. So it felt like having my arms, my legs, and my heart ripped out over and over again every time I woke up to realize that I was alive and that they would never be at my side again.”
She could feel the tears forming in the back of her eyes. She stopped and pushed her plate back ever-so-slightly, then pinched the bridge of her nose. Her other hand was still held in his. She squeezed his for a long moment, and he pressed back. When she finally had control of herself, she looked at him and said, “It’s probably not a good idea to bond over pain.”
“I’ve got a suggestion then,” he said, those large dark eyes of his warming up. “How about we bond over recovering?”
She gave him the smallest of a smile. “I think I can get behind that.”
“Good,” he said. “Not every day, but maybe every couple days and perhaps once a week, let’s check in with each other and see how we’re doing.”
She took a deep breath. “Maybe,” she said, cautious of offering too much of herself.
He smiled. “And, just like me, you’re scared and hesitant to get involved because what happens when we get involved?” he murmured.
“It hurts when we lose that connection,” she said.
“But we know that going in. We understand that both of us have this burden on our backs. And it’s not like we can stop or put down that burden immediately. We can’t put it down because we’d feel even guiltier, but what we must understand is that our burden doesn’t have to have the weight we’re giving it. We’re assigning that weight to it. But, if we straighten up, we can still acknowledge that we lost part of our life but not let it be the hefty forty pounds on our back that we’re continually carrying.”
“Wow,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could lighte
n that load?”
“Is there any reason we can’t?” he challenged. “Think about it. We bear the load because we want to. That’s what the psychologists around us don’t understand. They think that we don’t have any option, and we’re guilt-stricken. We carry that load because we love those we lost and because we don’t ever want to be parted from them.”
“Right,” she said slowly. “So, in other words, we need to incorporate them more into our life but in a lighter way so that we don’t feel the burden.”
“Because it isn’t a burden,” he corrected. “I don’t want to let go of my two friends. I imagine one on one shoulder and the other on the other shoulder. The guilt is something I’ll have to work through, but I don’t want to work through it if it means letting them go.”
“And that’s what everybody wants us to do. Let them go.”
He nodded. “Which is why I haven’t made the progress that everybody else wants me to make here,” he murmured. “And maybe it’s because I also can’t reconcile and verbalize what I mean. Of course a lack of sleep isn’t helping. I’m cranky and cantankerous.”
“Sorry about the lack of sleep. I think you’re doing an outstanding job verbally on all this,” she said. “And, if you can’t tell the psychologist, why don’t you write it down? Write how you feel and what it is that you want out of this. And keep your friends so that you can look from your left shoulder to your right shoulder with a smile on your face and can remember how much they meant to you and can still mean to you because you have those memories.”
It was his turn to sit back. And then slowly he nodded. “And what do you think? Can we make some kind of a commitment here to help each other?”
She smiled ever-so-slightly. “As long as it’s not formal and as long as you understand that if my world blows up …”
He waved away her protestations. “Everybody’s world is blowing up. I’m not talking about forever here. I’m talking about for the here and now.”
“Deal,” she said immediately.
Nobody was more pleasantly surprised than him when this agreement between the two of them not only ended up with them actually following through and checking in with each other regularly every week and sometimes every couple days but also to find their relationship deepening and broadening in some ways. Only as he understood how much she needed his participation in this did he realized how much he also needed hers.
They weren’t lifelines reaching for each other, not realizing what they needed until they found it. They were both on floatation devices, doing their darnedest to stay up there, surviving—and just knowing that they weren’t alone in that massive agony kept them floating and moving toward their goals.
It was a surprise when, at the end of one of his sessions, Dr. Garrick, the psychologist, looked at Heath in shock and said, “I see a great deal of progress,” she said. “Do you care to share how and why?”
Heath gave a laugh. “Amid all these patients here, and the staff so eager to help, I finally stepped out and connected with somebody who’s also going through a tough time.” At that, the psychologist frowned. Heath shook his head. “No frowns, Doctor. It’s not too much. It’s not dark. It’s not light. It’s just … reality.”
“Care to share with whom?”
“No,” Heath said. “Just know that I’m in a happier place right now, and I think it’s because of this person.” He was careful to withhold Hailee’s gender in case that raised all kinds of flags with the doctor too.
He could see that the doctor remained a little worried, almost felt like the doctor believed this should be questioned. Yet, at the same time, progress was progress.
“It’s fine,” Heath said quietly. “I, at least, am seeing a pathway forward.”
The doctor made a decisive nod at that. “And we’re definitely happy to see that. I just want to make sure that you’re not getting into something that’ll cause you more trouble later.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. In that case, we’ll check in with you in a couple days. How’s that?”
“Make it next week maybe,” he said.
“I can do that,” she said. They set up the next time.
When he got up and grabbed his crutches, she said, “You’re also moving easier.”
“I am,” he said. “Lots of things in my world are feeling easier right now.”
“Good,” she said. “Now if only you were sleeping better. I look forward to seeing your progress on that next week then too.”
He used his crutches to get to the door, where he stopped, turned to the doc, and said, “It really does feel better from this new position.”
She looked up at him in surprise, nodded, and said, “And that’s excellent news. The fact that you can even see yourself in a different place from where you were is enormous progress.”
“And I know exactly who to thank for that,” he said with a chuckle.
“Make sure you thank them,” the doctor said. “Sometimes people don’t realize how much of a benefit they are because nobody takes the time to tell them.”
He cocked his head to the side, looked at her, and nodded. “That’s a good point,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do just that.” And he headed out, wondering if he could find where Hailee was right now while he remembered. He made his way down the hallway and up to the front to the offices. He stopped at the front desk where Caitlin was and asked, “Any idea where Hailee is?”
“I think she’s in her office,” she said, “but she has a meeting with somebody right now.”
He nodded, looked over at the door he thought was hers, then uncertain, asked, “Is that hers?”
Caitlin smiled and nodded. “Yes, she’s the accountant.”
At that, he was surprised that they’d never discussed what she actually did at this place, and he was glad that she had a professional job that would at least help her to make her way in the world. He leaned back against the wall and realized that, just because he couldn’t hear the words through the door, the voices were coming out, though muffled, distorted. He didn’t want to listen in, but, at the same time, something important here tugged at him, something that he needed to figure out. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was bugging him.
Finally he gripped his crutches and headed down the hallway. As much as he wanted to see Hailee, he needed to figure this out first. There was something familiar, yet something odd that he was getting. But what was it? As he hobbled back to his room and entered his doorway, it continued to puzzle him, but he couldn’t place it. And it would bug him until he figured it out.
Hailee’s voice sounded similar to the cleaning lady’s, just … not quite the same.
Chapter 13
It was amazing how quickly Hailee had adjusted to her new schedule as an accountant, but she was worried about Heath. She hadn’t told him that she was the cleaning lady and neither had she told him that she knew he was still struggling to sleep. When she saw him next, it was a few days after their weekly check-in. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and saw him sitting out in the deck, soaking up the sun. She detoured to head toward him, finding that she was craving a few minutes of their connection. It was a dangerous path for her, given that she didn’t want to enter into any kind of relationship at this point in time, but he was a friend and solace, a place to rest her weary soul every once in a while. And she was starting to feel more for him than she was ready to admit.
As she came upon him, she asked, “You’re not sleeping still?”
He opened his eyes slowly and looked up at her, then smiled. “Some days are better than others.”
She frowned and nodded. Inside, she vowed to find a solution. It was the least she could do.
He looked at her coffee and said, “Is this a break for you?”
She nodded. “As much as I take a break, yes. I would have made it back to my office, but then I saw you sitting here.”
He smiled. “Got a moment?”
“Of course,” she said. She pull
ed out a chair and sat down. “The sun is hot,” she exclaimed in surprise.
“I didn’t notice,” he said.
“Not too many people can handle the Texas heat all the time,” she murmured.
“I was raised in Houston,” he said, then opened his eyes and looked back at her. “Not that I have any family left, of course.”
“Interesting you came back here,” she said. “And that you didn’t want a complete change.”
“A change I wasn’t really ready for,” he said. “I think I was still trying to make connections to forge parts of my life into some semblance of a new reality that still contains some of the old as I continue forward.”
She understood what he meant. When your foundation was ripped apart, like his had been, you grasp at straws to try to weave them together into a lifeline of something you know, something you can live with, something that you can move forward with. Because she’d done the same thing. That’s why she was still here. Part of her wanted to run away and go to the opposite side of the country, and the other part of her couldn’t leave everything she’d known.
And yet, she also knew it wasn’t terribly healthy to sit here and spend all her time thinking about her child, thinking about her lost marriage, and thinking about all they could have been together. Instead she plunked down her butt and straightened her shoulders and dealt with the debt that she’d been left with. Speaking of which, she still hadn’t heard from her lawyer. She frowned, making a mental note to contact him when she went back to her office.
“That looks like you just remembered something unpleasant.”
“I did,” she said. “I have to contact my lawyer.”
“Sometimes I wonder if a lawyer is of any value when you spend as much money securing their services as you might have lost without them.”
“I’ve thought about that a couple times,” she said. “In this case, he’s doing this pro bono.”
“Wow,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”
“This lawyer spends his time dealing with the medical bills that some people are enslaved with for life,” she said. “I just happened to luck into him and have him helping me to figure out how to reduce mine. It’s pretty overwhelming.”