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“What do you mean? How can that help me? That’s what made me...” I trail off and shake my head in disbelief.
“People in your position usually have a meeting with their doctor to discuss things. It usually takes place about eight to twelve weeks after the loss. It allows time for the doctor to gather all they know about you and your loss, and they can answer questions you may have. They can plan moving forward...”
“What if I’m not ready to move forward?”
“Then you’re not ready. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
“And Drew will be here?”
“If that's okay with you.”
I pick the corner of my nail and try to determine if I’m strong enough for this. I’ve blamed myself for weeks for Angel’s death. What if hearing something sets me back? I hate that I’m terrified of facing everything head-on because I’ve never been afraid of anything before.
I shake my head at the thought of what I’m about to say. “Okay. Set it up.”
I think about what could go wrong, but my life is in tatters anyway. Nothing can get any worse; I’m locked away in a psychiatric ward for my safety. I tried to kill myself, my marriage is hanging in the balance, my daughter is dead, and I have nothing to look forward to. Yeah, it’s safe to say I’ve hit rock bottom and I’m stuck. I either claw my way back to the top or I suffocate and die.
Chapter 11
Three days later
Drew
I’ve tapped my feet, bitten my nails, scratched my head, and now I’m pacing back and forth. Any moment now, I’m going to see Harper for the first time in nearly eighteen days. I’m not sure what to expect. I’ve imagined this moment every day since she tried to take her own life. I’ve dreamed of her running into my arms, kissing me, and acting like nothing has ever happened. The door opens, and the doctor holds it open. It feels like an eternity waiting for Harper to make her entrance, and when she does, she’s looking at the floor, her arms are circled around herself, and she stops side by side with the doctor.
I want to walk to her, hold her, tell her how much I’ve missed her, but I’m stuck. I don’t know how to strike up a conversation with my wife.
“Have a seat.” The doctor points to two seats opposite one another, and I wait for Harper to choose which one she’s going to sit in. “I’ll give you some time alone. I’ll be back when Dr Grieves arrives.”
Silence surrounds us. It isn’t like I’m sitting across from my best friend, my wife. It feels more like I'm sitting across from a stranger in a train station.
“How are you?” I ask shyly.
Harper finally looks up at me and smiles. I can see it's forced, but I don’t say anything.
“I’ve been better, but I’m okay. You look tired,”
I nod. “I’ll live. I’m more worried about you. I've missed you.”
“I’m sorry, Drew.” The smile falls from her face and tears roll down her cheeks.
I’m off my seat in a flash. My hand wraps around hers without even thinking about it. “It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Don’t be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.”
I shake my head. I hate that she feels like she doesn’t deserve kindness. “You are my wife. I love you. I care for you. I will never treat you any other way.”
“How can you say that after everything I’ve put you through?”
“I made my vows to love and protect you in sickness and in health. We’ll get through this, babe. I promise.”
Her eyes meet mine. I know she wants to say something, but she bites her lip instead and nods weakly. I hate that she still looks broken and small. She’s an empty shell that I will do all I can to restore.
“Everyone should hate me.”
“No one does. Everyone loves you. If you would only let them visit, you would see that. Your work colleagues, Jasinda and Jess, call me every other day to see how you are. They send their love and tell me to pass on how much they miss you.”
Tears continue to fall, but now I can see a hint of a smile shining through.
