AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Every day until our next session,” says Doctor Cynthia before we leave, “I want you to sit somewhere private. Irina should find a new picture of Owen and share a different story. Don’t let her stop if she’s sad. That’s the point, Eagle.”
I pretend I’m annoyed to get homework. However, I really just hate seeing Irina depressed. She remains sad for the rest of the evening. The next morning, she perks up with plans to visit Fiona for lunch and join me for dinner with Diva, Rocket, and Wayne.
However, later, when we’re alone and need to do our homework, she cries so hard that she can barely finish telling me about Owen’s trip to the zoo.
Every day gets a bit easier, but Irina also seems sad for longer. A quiet funk hangs over her. I tell my club family what’s happening, so they don’t say anything insensitive. Tomcat decides not to have his kids visit the Pigsty for a while since they might trigger her. Everyone tries to be calm when Irina’s out of our bedroom. We buy big puzzles, taking turns putting them together with Irina. Working through my woman’s depression becomes a group effort.
“At the next session, I’m supposed to watch videos of Owen,” a terrified Irina explains to me one night. “I’ve had them stored online but haven’t looked at any in a long time.”
Her words scare the shit out of me. I haven’t watched a video of my mom in nearly a decade. It set off too much negativity inside me. When I think of Jillian, it’s always on the back of my hog, holding on tight, howling at the fast speed. In my head, she’s perfect, healthy, and untouchable. Videos make her too real.
The next day, Irina’s crying before we even enter the shrink’s office. We sit on the couch as she tries to calm herself. Irina struggles to press play on the video.
“I can’t do it,” Irina admits in a strangled voice.
Despite wanting to bail on therapy, I reply, “If you get through the treatments, you’ll be able to think of Owen more often without so much pain. That’s how we keep people alive.”
Irina admires my face, thinking about my words. They sound smart because Doctor Cynthia said them to me during my own session.
“I still can’t start the video,” Irina whispers, and I realize she needs me to do what she can’t.
I kiss Irina’s temple as her son’s voice fills the room. He looks so much like his mom with his thick brown hair and big round blue eyes. The little guy explains about their time at the park, sounding as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Irina’s finger brushes over the image of him talking, like a mom needing to touch her son again. As her face twists up, her sobs replace the sound of Owen’s voice.
I’m startled when Irina bowls over and begins to wail as if she just learned the news of his death. Her pain is so raw. Unable to stand her suffering, I nearly turn off the video.
Doctor Cynthia gestures for me to be patient. When we arrived, she reminded me how distracting Irina or trying to make her feel better wasn’t allowed.
“Avoiding the pain doesn’t erase it,” Doctor Cynthia said as if I was a moron.
Now, I realize I’m doing what the shrink expected. I want to kiss away Irina’s tears and get her mind on something else. I’m so damn tempted to say something reassuring when Irina shakes with sorrow.Isn’t my job to fix her pain?
Except Owen died over fourteen years ago. Her grief isn’t fresh. She never truly felt it because selfish people insisted she move on. I can’t do the same thing now.
So, I hug her and keep my mouth shut. Irina watches the video three times, crying for her baby. She finally settles down and stares at the image on the phone.
Irina remains depressed for the rest of the day. She starts crying during dinner and hides in our room. She doesn’t eat the next day.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to my friends jammed together in the kitchen. “I’m not supposed to cheer her up. She seems to be getting worse.”
“What did the shrink say?” Goose asks, peering up at my room, where Irina waits for my return.
“To be patient.”
“Then, be patient, man,” Tomcat says. “She told me to be more present with my kids to help them feel appreciated. Now, they bite less. Doctor Cynthia knows her shit.”
Walla Walla nods as if impressed by Tomcat’s kids being less shitty. Focusing on me, the big blond smiles. “There’s no shame in crying or feeling low. Just cuddle with her in bed and watch whatever she wants. Even if it’s sad stuff.”
“Irina needs quiet,” Goose adds. “And no one does quiet like you, Eagle.”
Taking their advice, I give Irina my undivided, quiet attention for the next few days. We spend time together around the Pigsty and Fiona’s place. I take Irina for walks. We swim. She slowly opens up about Owen, as if she fears sharing too much.
The night before her next therapy session, we rest naked in bed, staring at each other. Her bump’s gotten bigger since we reached February. I can’t keep my hands off it, knowing my little girl is inside.
“My delivery with Owen wasn’t too bad. I had an epidural. I remembered all my Lamaze breathing exercises. I was scared and lonely, though. People were with me. Steve and his family. Mine, too. They all kept checking on me. I wasn’t alone, but I felt that way.”
Irina strokes my hand, resting on her belly. “Owen screamed so much when he was born. I didn’t want to hold him,” she says, struggling with the memory. “I hadn’t been ready to be a mother. He felt like Steve’s kid. Everyone was so focused on the new dad. I felt an incredible urge to run away and never look back.”
