Coming Undone

by Melody Calder

  Moving slowly through the tunnels, I asked him so many questions about Paris, some of which he knew and others he didn't. The one thing I didn't realize was how short of a distance Paris was to Lyon and we had newspapers directly from Paris. I remember seeing the advertised rentals in Paris. We decided to pick one up in the morning and then spend the rest of the day scouring the ads to find the right place. I had no phone in my apartment, but I knew one of the shop owners well enough that I was sure she would allow me to use hers. I would even bring her a gift of one of my paintings, knowing how much she appreciated art.

  Tomorrow would be the day I would finally have everything I ever dreamed of, starting with the man I've loved since I was a child.

  Chapter Twenty-Three - André

  Simone went to get the paper in the morning, stating she didn’t want anyone to see us together. Though we both cut ties with the church and our previous home, she was worried if anyone saw, she would lose her benefactor. It seemed we wouldn’t be able to really be together until we left Lyon.

  While she was gone, I counted the money from the envelope Father Augustin handed me, something I hadn’t felt the need to do before. Along with the bills, two thin rings of gold fell out of the envelope and onto the table.

  I stared at them as I tried to figure out why they would be given to me. Picking up the smaller of the two, there was something familiar about it but every time I tried to catch the memory, it would float out of my consciousness.

  There was also a note from the priest, and I carefully unfolded it.

  Dear André,

  Your work here was extraordinary. It was the hardest decision for me to disrobe you, but I had no choice due to our own standards we must keep in our commitment to the Lord. It does not mean you are a sinner or weak. I, myself, have never loved a woman and can only compare it to my own love for God and the Catholic Church. When I look at it as a comparison, I’m more impressed with your ability to try to leave her and take a vow most men wouldn’t be able to.

  My wish for you is to find your own path in your commitment to being a man of God and the clergy is not the only way. The Bible tells us to be fruitful and multiply. May God bless you and Simone to live a long, happy life together and expand with many children, giving you both the families you lost.

  The rings are from Sister Marie, ones she’s held on to for many years. They belonged to your parents and I have blessed them.

  Your Brother in Christ,

  Father Augustin

  A flash of my mother’s hand holding mine flittered to the surface. The ring she’d worn so proudly when my father was good to her, and hidden in the folds of her skirt when he was in a mood was clear as day. The love I held for her and how much I missed her almost knocked me off my feet. My hatred for my father bubbled to the surface as the monster threatened to erupt.

  How could I start my life with Simone using the symbol tying my mother to the man who killed her? I couldn’t but I could give her the one which meant everything to me. Simone would wear it well and I knew my mother would smile upon us from the heavens.

  I took the ring and threw it across the room, the tinkling of it landing by the bed not satisfying enough. I would rather scrub latrines every day for the rest of my life than wear a ring belonging to such a disgusting man. Pacing, I tried to calm myself, but it didn’t work. I was like a caged animal, unable to leave for fear of the backlash Simone would receive.

  “Gah!” I shouted as I pulled at my hair, the pain not registering. Looking at the glasses sitting on the open shelf, I stopped myself from smashing them against the walls. The only thing stopping me was knowing how disappointed Simone would be with me.

  The last of my sanity was quickly leaving and I had to get out. Running down the stairs, I slipped out the door and ran across the street to the door to the traboules. It was the only place I could run until I was too tired to hurt anyone. The walls flew by and I squinted as I reached the courtyard and the sun burned my eyes after the dim light of the tunnel. I kept going, this time taking a different tunnel than the one Simone led me through, so I didn’t end up in front of the church.

  I lost all sense of direction with every stone wall looking the same as the next. Twisting and turning through passageways, I kept running, ignoring the burning in my lungs. My legs started to feel wobbly as my heart pounded in my chest and I tried to gulp the air. My throat dry and scratchy, I ended up at the end of the last traboule. I had no choice but to go through the door and figure out where I was.

  The small cobblestone street was filled with people rushing to where they needed to be, and no one paid attention to me, despite my haphazard appearance. Sweat poured down my face as I joined the crowd looking for a place to buy a drink to soothe my parched throat.

  Looking at the little wooden signs, the one that caught my eye was painted with the word “doctor” on it. There was more to the sign, but I didn’t pay attention as I stepped through the door, desperate to find relief for my still burning anger.

  The receptionist was kind and offered me a glass of water, which I took and greedily emptied the glass in one swig. “You are lucky. Doctor Wylynn has very few patients today,” she noted. “Have a seat while I go and make sure he’s ready to see you.”

  I thanked her and sat, my heart still racing for my unexpected run through the secret tunnels of the old city. If I hadn’t already been sweaty, my palms surely would have been and I considered leaving, not knowing what I was doing there. My impulsive choice felt wrong, especially when Simone was probably back home and worried sick about me.

  Standing to leave and try to find my way back to her apartment, I didn’t get a chance because the door opened and a man in a white jacket stepped out, “I’m Dr. Wylynn. What can I do for you today?”

  “I... “ my words seemed to freeze on my tongue as I wondered what I was doing there.

  “Why don’t you come to my office where we can speak privately?”

  “Okay,” I agreed as my wobbly legs carried me to his examination room. He gestured for me to sit on the cushioned bench, which was actually a bed of some sort, I realized as I sat down.

  “I see you are out of breath and sweaty. Am I right to assume you were running?”

  His voice was kind, yet I knew he wouldn’t accept any mistruths from me, considering how he watched me. He stayed quiet and waited for me to finish my sentence.

  “I see you've been out for a run, but why in your good clothes?” he asked again when I didn’t answer.

  “I was angry, and it seems to be the only way for me to stop it, tiring myself out, that is," I told him hesitantly before my words rushed out, “I go through moods where the littlest thing set me off. And then sometimes I get so sad I can't get out of bed. It's been like this for as long as I can remember, and my friend told me that doctors might be able to help me. I'm desperate for relief. My father was like this, and I watched him hurt my mother so many times before he killed her.” The tears gathered in my eyes as I told him the one thing that bothered me the most, “I don't want that to happen to the girl I'm about to marry. Please, can you help me?”

  “I cannot, but I do know someone who can. What you're describing sounds like an illness of the mind and is quite common. Thankfully, we now have modern medicine which has studied these things. Let me call my friend and see if he can get you in today. Would that be alright with you?”

  “Yes, I would do anything to stop this,” my shaky voice relayed all the desperation I felt.

  Dr. Wylynn walked out and I was left with my own thoughts and fears running through my mind. I was relieved to know it was common, yet I still worried I would be told I was too broken to fix. My mind circled, buzzing with the what ifs, until it felt like the walls of the small room were closing in on me. I gulped air, but it didn't seem to be enough, leaving me feeling like I couldn't breathe.

  I felt restless, my feet nervously tapping on the floor beneath me. The urge to run away hit me hard and I stood to leave. The door swun
g open and the doctor looked at me with his eyebrow quirked, “You weren't going to run away, were you?” he asked me lightly, almost teasingly. “I have good news for you. He can see you right away. I'll have my receptionist accompany you to his office.”

  The kind old man seemed to figure out how scared I was and know what I wanted to do. I didn't think I could make it to another building on my own. My fear was just too great, even though I was desperate for help. It seemed too many times in my life what I should do and what I actually did we're two different things. “Thank you, Dr. Wylynn. I will say, you have a knack for understanding people. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help. What do I owe you?”

  He waved me off, “Don't you worry about it. I did nothing to cure you, therefore it wouldn't be right for me to charge you. Besides, you can consider it my wedding gift to the lucky lady who will soon become your wife. I have quite the soft spot for love.”

  The receptionist popped through the door, “Are you ready?“ her voice was cheerful and I felt comfortable being escorted by her.

  She led me down the cobblestone streets turning a few times until we reached an unmarked building. It didn't have large windows like the rows of shops that lined the streets, and looked more like an apartment building. She opened the door for me and I peeked in, seeing it was nothing like an apartment. It was definitely an office building with a small, empty desk in front and a closed-door behind it, which had a name plate, though I couldn't see what it said from where I was standing.

  I didn't realize my hands were balled into fists until the relief hit me knowing this was not a prank. I thanked the receptionist, realizing I hadn't asked her name. Before I could do so, she was gone.

  A short, stocky man came from behind the door and held out his hand for me to shake, “I'm Doctor Jean-Luc DuPont. My friend said you were in desperate need of help, and he felt it was something I could help you with. Why don't you come into my office and we can talk?”

  I followed him to the office and sat in the chair across from him, introducing myself as he settled into his seat. He gestured for me to tell him what I needed, and I found myself having a hard time explaining everything.

  He helped me with the process, asking questions to clarify things when needed. The hardest part was when he asked me for more details on what had happened to my parents and why I said my father killed my mother. Simone had been the only person I had ever told the whole story to. Somehow, this doctor managed to make me feel comfortable enough to tell him, even though we had just met. Or maybe it was just my desperation to rid myself of my demons holding me back from a good life with Simone.

  When I finished my story, he leaned back and steepled his hands. “It seems to me you have two separate problems. For one, I believe you have something we refer to as manic depression, though I would have to run more tests to be sure. Secondly, you have an extremely tragic past, one you have not dealt with properly. I would recommend counseling to work through your past trauma, and I also recommend medication to help you with bipolar disorder.”

  It was as if he were speaking another language and I needed him to clarify, “What is this disorder you speak of?”

  He explained how mental illnesses were highly debated since their discovery. Over a hundred years before, what is to believed to have been the first documentation of manic depression was made right here in France. Still, the treatments hadn’t changed much and there was still a lot of unknowns in treating it properly. He gave me as much information as he knew, including the criteria doctors used to diagnose it. I found myself nodding as he went through the symptoms since all of it matched what I had felt for so many years. He ended his explanation and moved onto the treatment choices, which included only one medication. I was, of course, concerned with how it would change me and questioned him extensively, including asking, “Will it change me as a person though?”

  “You are concerned about the woman you are going to marry soon, correct?” I gave him a nod and he addressed my concern with nothing but kindness. “Nothing can change your personality fundamentally. You will still be the same person on the inside. There are risks as there are with any medication, yet I feel in your case the benefits would outweigh any risks. I believe the changes you will notice the most will be a reduction in your anger and an end to your depression, which is the term for what happens when you can't get out of bed for days or weeks at a time. Would you like to go ahead with the testing to see if this is in fact what you have?”

  “I would love to, but we are leaving for Paris soon. With everything that happened, we must leave this city quickly,” I answered honestly.

  “Ah, I see. Normally, I would not do this, but I feel you are a very special case. If you agree to try the medication, I will write you a prescription that you can pick up at the pharmacy down the street. They are the only ones who stock this medication for my patients. But, in return, you must get in contact with a colleague of mine when you reach Paris. He has the expertise that you need. You will need to follow up with him for more medication because I will only give you a two-week supply. I can’t, in good conscience, give this to you and not make sure it's working properly. If you end up staying here for more than two weeks, you must check in with me. My colleague will also set you up with counseling to work through your trauma. These are my requirements for your treatment. Do you promise you will keep your end of the bargain?”

  “I swear upon Almighty God I will do whatever it takes to rid me of this terrible curse. I can assure you, my love for my fiancée, Simone, will prevent me from deviating from our deal.”

  “Good. I see you are a good man and I want to help you. Now, let me write you a prescription and also the directions to the pharmacy so you can get started right away.” He scribbled something on the pad of paper and handed it to me before writing the name and address of the doctor in Paris on a separate piece of paper.

  As if a miracle, this man refused a pay for his time with me, stating I needed to save my money for my upcoming move and marriage. I thanked him profusely and promised that someday I would repay his kindness. We said our goodbyes and I made my way to the pharmacy.

  I didn't know how much time had passed between me running out of Simone’s apartment and returning, but by the look on her face, it had been a while. No doubt she was angry, eyes like daggers when I walked through the door. I winced as she started to yell, “Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you! I thought you...” she paused and I knew what she was going to say, the unsaid words broke my heart.

  “You thought I left you again? I'm so sorry, Simone. I didn't mean to worry you. I had an issue with my moods and I didn't want to destroy anything of yours so I went for a run. Please, forgive me for worrying you.”

  She collapsed into my arms and squeezed me tightly, “Don't you ever do that to me again. At least leave a note.”

  I stroked her hair as I apologized, “I promise. I am so sorry. I'm here and I promise I will never leave you again. You are going to be my wife and I swear to you I won't let anything tear us apart ever again. I have news that I think will make you happy.”

  “What is it?”

  I held up the small brown bag shaking the contents. “I went to see a doctor, like you suggested. I didn't plan on going there, which is why I didn't make it back before you did. I was running through the traboules and when I came out, I was on an unfamiliar street. I was so thirsty and tired, so I went looking for a shop to get a drink. As if God himself was intervening, I saw a sign for a doctor and went in on a whim. He was very kind and though he couldn't help me, he did tell me he thought I have a disorder that a friend of his could help me with.”

  “Really?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yes. So, I went to the other doctor, and he was able to put a name to what I have. And not only that, but he also gave me a prescription to help me with it,” I held up the bag to show her before I went on to explain his temporary diagnosis and what it meant.

  “It does sound like
you. I can't tell you how happy I am for you to have found an answer and treatment. I love you just the way you are, but I don't want you to think of yourself as a monster anymore.”

  If I hadn't known already, it would have been the moment that would have sealed my knowledge she was the perfect woman for me. My love for her hummed inside of my body and I couldn't wait to exchange the vows with the most beautiful woman in the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Simone

  I too have exciting news to share, “I think I found an apartment for us. It's close to the University and it's priced low enough that we can easily afford it until we find jobs. I spoke to the owner, and he did tell me it needed some work. I asked if we could possibly do the work ourselves and have that put towards the rent. Of course, we would have to see how bad it is before we make the final decision, but he agreed.”

  André seemed skeptical and confirmed it when he said, “My concern with this is if we go to Paris and decide it's not for us, we would have to take a train back here. I would hate to be wasteful with money.”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. His concern wasn’t what I thought it would be. “You forget how resourceful I am. I also spoke to another landlord, a sweet old woman who is renting out her attic space. It's a little more expensive, especially considering the reduction in rent we would get if we redid the apartment, but it's still affordable. I made sure we have two choices because she will hold it for us in case we decide not to take the first one. The second one is a little further out but whatever we decide, we will make it work.”

  I squeaked when he lifted me and spun me around, the joy on his face causing my heart to stutter. “Simone, I am the luckiest man in the world. I'm sorry I doubted you and I swear I will never do that again. When should we leave?”