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Amelie smiled just a little, for his benefit he knew. “I’ll be fine.”
He took a deep breath and reluctantly let go of her hand. “I love you, Amelie. I really, really do.”
Her eyes welled up with tears, which Jack could tell she was trying her damnedest to hold back. She nodded. “I know.”
There’s nothing like sitting in a waiting room helpless to prove to one just how much they love another, Jack decided. As angry as he’d been, his anger had shifted a little now to something that more closely resembled remorse. In the fifty minutes that he would spend waiting to see for himself that she was ok, Jack realized that he’d been wrong. This experience hadn’t drawn a line in the sand. But it had instead proved just how much you could possibly forgive someone for if you loved them enough.
THIRTEEN
In the days after ‘the appointment’, as Jack dubbed it, he cared for Amelie the best he knew how. He brought her food in bed. Food, which she didn’t touch. He tried to make small talk to which she didn’t respond. She’d sunk to a low that even Jack, as resourceful as he thought he was, couldn’t seem to pull her from. She rotated between sleeping, crying, and staring blankly out the bedroom window. By the following Tuesday, Jack decided he needed to return to his summer classes, both for the benefit of his studies and his sanity. That morning, he went to class, and then headed to work in the afternoon after briefly stopping in to check on Amelie, who had been sleeping, still lying in the same spot she was in when he’d left that morning.
When Jack came home that evening and unlocked the door, he sensed right away that something was off. For starters, there were no lights on in the place, Which could only mean one thing—Amelie still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He headed straight to the bedroom. He was so furious by that point, partially at her, but mostly at himself for not knowing how to handle the situation. He turned on the bedside lamp only to find that she wasn’t in the bed. He ran from room to room, looking for her before finding her lying on the bathroom floor facedown, in a pool of her own vomit. Jack pushed his fingers into her neck searching for a pulse. He watched her chest slowly rise and fall. She was breathing. Thank god.
“Amelie? Amelie! What the fuck!” He picked up her head, dug the vomit from her mouth, and shook her. She rolled a little then and vomited all over his hands. “Amelie… Amelie. Wake up!” She stirred when he shouted her name but was otherwise unresponsive. Jack picked up the empty vodka bottle and tried to remember how much had been in it before. Goddamn it. He turned on the shower and let the water warm up. Then he placed her in the tub without bothering to remove the pajamas she was wearing. Under the water, she perked up a bit. “Amelie. Talk to me. How much did you drink? What did you take?” She shrugged, mumbled something he couldn’t make out, and let her head fall against the side of the tub. He screamed her name a few more times. He shook her. Nothing.
Jack shut off the water. He wrapped a towel around her. So she wouldn’t be cold, he told himself. And then he dialed 9-1-1.
It would be thirty-six arduous hours before they would allow Jack to see her again. He answered question after question from the authorities. Questions about how much she might have had to drink, what meds she was on, and how, as a minor, she had obtained the alcohol she’d consumed. Jack told them everything he knew, which it turned out wasn’t much. He told them about the abortion and the prescriptions that the doctor had given her afterward. He gave them the information he had about her family and how they could reach her mother. When they determined he was no longer useful, they sent him to the waiting room where he waited, and then waited some more. He watched the clock as the minutes turned into hours and the hours into days. Jack had been asleep in the waiting room when he felt someone tapping his arm. He opened his eyes to find Amelie’s mother standing over him.
“Fancy a walk?” she asked.
Jack stood up slowly and followed her out the emergency room doors. “How is she?” he demanded. “No one will tell me anything.”
She pursed her lips. “I really wished you would have called me, Jack. What were you two thinking?”
“How is she?” he pleaded.
She frowned, and Jack couldn’t help but notice how much Amelie favored her mother. “She’s ok. Groggy. Tired. But ok...”
He exhaled all of the air in his lung and doubled over, resting his hands on his knees. “Oh, thank god. When can I see her?”
“Jack, tell me, how much do you know about my Amelie?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused by the question.
“My daughter is very sick. She needs treatment.”
“What do you mean she’s sick? What kind of treatment…?”
Her mother sighed. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, son. Amelie has tried to kill herself before. She needs help. Serious help.”
Jack backed away. “What are you trying to say? Amelie isn’t crazy!”
She put her hand up as if to appease him. “Jack, my daughter is bi-polar.”
He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit! She’s just going through a rough time right now. That’s all. She’ll get through this. ”
“Look. I know this is a lot for someone your age to understand, but I need you to calm down, ok? Amelie is asking after you… but there’s something I need to discuss with you first. Before I take you upstairs... ”
Jack waited.
She hesitated before speaking. “I need you to be on my side about getting her help. Amelie cares a lot about you. She always has. Now… because of everything that’s happened, I can technically place her in a treatment program without her consent. But the doctors and I all agree… we hope it doesn’t have to come to that. The thing is, Jack… patients almost always do best when they make the decision themselves to seek treatment. So what I’m trying to say is… I need you to help my daughter come to that conclusion. I know it’s a lot to ask. But Amelie looks up to you. And I really think she’ll listen…”
He ran his fingers through his hair then shook his head. “Wait? Let me make sure I’ve gotten this straight. You want me to talk her into going to a mental institution? Because if that’s what you’re asking me to do… then you’re the crazy one, lady…”
She stared at the ground before meeting his eyes as she spoke. “Listen. I’m going to let you see her. But I need you to at least consider my request. I’m not doing this for myself. I’m doing this for her. I don’t want my daughter to end up dead. Certainly, you can understand that.”
“Just let me see her now, please. I need to see her.”
