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"You okay?"
"I’m fine."
"You have a good day at work?"
"It was fine."
"Can I get you anything?" I asked.
"No. I told you I’m fine," Taye said, and rolled into the fetal position. "Could you turnoff the light, please?"
I shook my head. "Sure, baby. If you need anything, just let me know," I said, as I turned off the light and closed the door.
I went back downstairs and into the den. I walked over to the bar and grabbed the bottle of Barcardi, and a glass off the shelf. When the glass was full, I drank it down and poured another. I took off my jacket and loosened my tie, before sitting down. I picked up the remote and turned on the CD player. The re-mastered version of the Miles Davis classic Kind of Blue, eased gently out of the speakers. The name of the song was "So What", and that was exactly how I felt. And for that, I felt guilty.
I thought back to the first conversation I had with Dr. Larrieux, as she tried to explain to me what Taye was experiencing. "Depression is a serious medical illness, Devin. It’s not just something that Taye has made up in her head. It’s more than just feeling down in the dumps or blue for a few days. It’s feeling down and low and hopeless for weeks at a time."
"I understand," I said. But at the time, I really didn’t grasp the magnitude of her condition.
"Taye’s type of depression is called bipolar disorder, or manic-depressive illness. It’s characterized by cycling mood changes: severe highs or mania, and lows or depression. Sometimes the mood switches are dramatic and rapid, but most often they are gradual. When in the depressed cycle, an individual can have any or all of the symptoms of a depressive disorder."
"And what are those?"
"Persistent sad, anxious, or empty moods," Dr. Larrieux said. "Feelings of hopelessness or pessimism. She could experience feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and or helplessness. It can range from loss of interest or pleasure in hobbies and activities that were once enjoyed, including sex."
"Yeah, she’s definitely got that one."
"She could experience decreased energy or fatigue. She may have difficulty concentrating or remembering, or just making simple decisions."
"Okay, Dr. Larrieux, what’s the plan?"
"There are a variety of antidepressant medications and psychotherapies that can be used to treat depressive disorders. We are going to start with a combined treatment and medication. My hope is that Taye will gain relatively quick symptom relief, and psychotherapy will help her learn more effective ways to deal with life’s problems, including depression."
"What can I do to help?"
"The most important thing you can do is to offer Taye emotional support. This involves understanding, patience, affection, and encouragement. Invite her for walks, outings, go to the movies and other activities. Encourage Taye to partic
ipate in some activities that once gave her pleasure, but do not push her to undertake too much too soon. What she needs is diversion and company, but too many demands can increase feelings of failure."
I tried to do everything that Dr. Larrieux suggested. At first it seemed that Taye was responding well to the treatment, but now it seems like she’s slipping. Maybe it was too soon for something as big as a trip to Puerto Rico. But then I thought about what the doctor said about the changes sometimes being gradual. As I looked back over the past few weeks, that’s exactly what had been happening.
Although at the time I didn’t really understand what she was going through, after dealing with it for so long, I felt like I could write a book on the subject—How to Live With Your Manic-depressive Wife. "A guaranteed bestseller, for sure," I said, and raised my glass.
After another evening alone drinking and listening to music, I turned off the stereo and went upstairs to bed. Taye was already asleep—with her customary bottle of sleeping pills and half-empty glass of water by her side.
I pulled back the covers and got in bed. I looked at Taye. "My beautiful baby," I said, and touched her face. "Why do you insist on sleeping in sexy lingerie?" I turned off the lights and wondered how long could I keep this up?
* * *
Chapter Seven
Avonte
It was late Friday afternoon when my flight arrived at JFK. After Devin left that Sunday, I checked out of the Marriott and caught a charter flight to Isla de Vieques—an island about ten miles to the east of the Puerto Rican mainland. After a weekend of drinking by the pool and hanging out with Devin, I wanted to go someplace quiet to relax. I checked into Martineau Bay Resort & Spa—a plantation-style resort, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean that billed itself as the ultimate island sanctuary. It did give me a chance to really relax and think.
I spent some time thinking about Devin, and patted myself on the back for not sleeping with him, even though I wanted to so very badly. In the back of my mind, I still wanted my marriage, and sleeping with Devin would not be the way to accomplish that. I had made it a point not to discuss any real details about myself. I didn’t tell him about the problems Tyrone and I were having, and nothing at all about the fact that I had money. I wouldn’t want to think that Devin was interested in me because he thought he was pushing up on money. The fact that he wanted my body was what my ego needed.
I spent the rest of the week there. I hadn’t come to any real conclusions, but I was ready to come home. After collecting my luggage, I had a car service take me home. Tyrone and I lived in a house on Windward Road in Glen Cove. It was a traditional townhouse that sat atop a bluff, overlooking the Long Island Sound. I decorated that house and redesigned it, when you get down to it. It was a beautiful house with vaulted ceilings and five bedrooms. I picked out the marble in the house, took months deciding on the granite and wood floors that ran throughout the propriety, as well as those lovely French doors that led to my deck and all those incredible sunsets over Manhattan. As we drove, I wondered just how long I would call it home.
