Anywhere With You (11 page)

It had been well over a week since I’d taken any medication to treat my bipolar disorder, and I was beginning to feel the effects of my own illness more deeply. After reading Jack’s mother’s words, I suddenly felt as though there might be no end in sight. This wasn’t the first time I’d found myself in this predicament. Most of my life I’d felt like I was walking a tightrope of being ok, and then instantly not. In the past, I had gone long periods without taking medication at all, but each and every time I quit, I ended up in really bad shape. This time, I was terrified. I could suddenly see that the deck was stacked against me—as though my future was a house built of cards, ready to crumble at any time—it only took a storm, with its wind blowing hard enough to knock me down. Which it inevitably would. I looked up to see Jack standing there waiting for me to unlock the door. Looking at him then, I began to think the storm that would take me out had a name—and it was Jack Harrison.

By the time we pulled out of parking lot of the sporting goods store, it was well after one p.m. Jack didn’t mention the fact that I was crying. He didn’t ask what was wrong, and I didn’t volunteer to tell him. He’d simply loaded the contents into the rear of the Jeep, got in, and suggested that we head to New Mexico to see Carlsbad National Caverns. He spoke of the time that his parents had taken him there when he was about five years old and how he’d always wanted to go back. He asked me if I’d ever been, and he smiled when I told him I hadn’t. When he asked if I opposed the idea, I simply shook my head. Because, the truth was, I couldn’t think of a better first stop than a giant hole in the ground in which I could descend into.

Jack

The deep end.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go for a swim?” I asked once more. We’d decided against camping as it was well after dusk by the time we arrived. We checked into the hotel late, after nine p.m. And I’d been trying to get Amelie out of bed and down to the pool since we’d checked in an hour ago. The moment we arrived to the room, she’d plopped herself down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. In fact, she had hardly spoken at all the entire way from Texas to New Mexico.

“Amelie,” I called again. She looked over at me. “Put on your swimsuit and let’s go.”

She stood abruptly and threw her hands up. “Fine,” she said eyeing me sideways. “But first there’s something I have to tell you.”

I sat back on the bed and mentally prepared myself. I knew that tone well. I crossed my arms and waited.

She swept her hair back and pulled it into a ponytail. “I’m not taking any medication,” she said grabbing the hair tie from her wrist with her teeth.

“Ok,” I told her, I didn’t know what else to say. If I were to be honest, I would have told her she didn’t need the medication anyway. At the same time, I wasn’t an expert—and I didn’t know the extent of her feelings or her situation.

“The medication I had been taking…that made me so sick…” she said before trailing off.

I nodded and prodded her to go on, but it took several moments as though she were trying to work out the right words to say.

Amelie waved her hand in the air. “Well, it’s just that I’m not sure that I like the doctor, and I know I didn’t like that medication…”

“So find another, if you think you need it.”

“It’s not that simple, unfortunately. Finding a doctor and having that doctor prescribe medication that alters the chemicals in your brain takes a bit of time and effort, Jack.”

“I get that. But I’m not sure I’m following you…”

“You know what? Never mind. I’m not even sure I’m following myself.”

“Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” I said, slipping on my swim trunks.

I paused and watched her dig through her suitcase, which in typical Amelie fashion was a horrible mess. “You’re probably right,” she eventually answered. She’d found her suit in the heap of other clothing she had, and by this point, I was hoping she’d change right where she was standing. Instead, she walked to the bathroom, only partially closing the door. “Oh, and Jack,” she called out. “There’s something else—” She peered around the bathroom door smashing her unfastened bikini top against her chest.

I didn’t answer, but I didn’t take my eyes off of hers. I assumed she was going to ask for help with her suit.

“I read one of your mother’s letters. I’m sorry—” she said.

I swallowed, realizing that I’d assumed wrong.

In the pool, I swam a couple of laps to blow off steam while Amelie remained on the edge with her feet in the water, watching me. We were the only ones in the pool area as technically, it was closed at this hour. But when I’d slipped the hotel staff member a twenty, he promised to pretend we weren’t there. It was with this thought that I slipped back underneath the water. I thought back over one of my mother’s letters in particular. As I recalled her words, I swam lap after lap until I had almost nothing left.

Dear Jack,

I thought it was time I wrote to you about ethics. Yesterday, you stole a pack of gum from the grocery store, and as I drove you back to that store to return your stolen goods and apologize, I had the talk with the four-year-old version of you about right and wrong. When your father got home, and I explained the day’s events to him, he was appalled at the both of us. It hadn’t been enough, in his opinion, to merely offer an apology and return the gum. He wanted you to understand what it took to earn it—so that you’d never need to take anything that wasn’t yours again. In turn, he loaded the three of us back in the car, and on the drive back, I considered his position, and I thought about how that same lesson might manifest when you’re older. This both amused and terrified me.

Your father had old Mr. Owen, our local grocer, to teach you about mopping floors and bagging groceries and wiping down shelves. Basically, he volunteered your services for a good two hours. But as further punishment, you still didn’t get the gum. Your father’s tough like that.

I hope that his toughness combined with my not so toughness will have taught you something to save for the future. People will often let you get away with more than you should. But it takes a bigger man to stand up and teach you the most valuable lessons in life. I hope you’re tough like your father, in the sense that you always go the extra mile. Also, never take what isn’t yours to take. Work for it. Earn it. It may not be the easiest route, but it’s certainly the most satisfying one. The things in life one has to work hardest for are the things that are most worth having.

Love,

Mom

“I know you’re angry with me, and I’m sorry,” Amelie whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist. I ran my hands along them and then down her sides and then stopped myself. She’d finally decided to join me in the water, of course, now that I was spent. “Take me to the deep end,” she begged as she buried her face against my neck. I pulled back and then quickly took her by the wrists and unwrapped her from around me until she stood there, her expression full of surprise at my separating the two of us. “I’m not angry...” I told her.

“Well, obviously you are…”

I slowly shook my head and glanced toward the other end of the pool. “If you want to go to the deep end, then you’re going to have to swim there yourself.”

Her cheeks grew red. If there was anything Amelie hated most—it was being told no. “You know what… just forget it,” she called over her shoulder as she high-stepped her way back to the edge of the pool.

“I knew you wouldn’t do it,” I offered, backstroking my way to the deep end. I don’t know exactly what it was I was suddenly so irritated about—other than the fact that the writing was on the wall. I was over her and her expectation that she could have whatever she wanted—how she wanted it. Perhaps being confined with someone in a vehicle for nine hours will do that to a person. Make them see the light, that is.

Amelie heaved herself back up onto the side of the pool. “What’s your point anyway? If you’re not mad then why are you acting like such as ass?” she called out.

“You can’t just expect that everyone is going to do what you want whenever you want it, Amelie. Some things you actually have to work for, you know.”

“I still don’t get your point.”

“Forget it—I guess I just wanted to see whether you wanted to go to the deep end badly enough.”

“If I did—don’t you think I’d already be there by now?”

I smirked. “You nailed it—that’s my point, exactly. You want to swim—yet you don’t want to put the effort in. You know what happens when you do that in a pool, Amelie? You drown.”

She looked away, dismay clearly written across her face.

Eventually, she got over herself and got back in the water. Although simply to prove a point, she never did make it to the deep end.

Later, after we’d gotten back to the room, and I had showered and changed, I pulled out the box of my mother’s letters. Then I sat, reading a few, as I waited for Amelie to get showered and dressed. Suddenly, I was desperate not to fight anymore. After reading my mother’s words, I realized the last thing I wanted to do was ruin the trip. It’s interesting how reading a dead woman’s words can teach you about how fleeting life is. So, when Amelie emerged from the bathroom, I was determined to make things right. So I called her over to my double bed.

“I’m not angry at you,” I said, motioning for her to sit down. “You’re welcome to read these anytime.” She sat down and eyed me hesitantly.

“I know I should have asked first…”

“It’s not a big deal,” I assured her as I opened the letter and handed it to her. “I really like this one.”

She eyed me cautiously and then turned her attention to the letter. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she read.

Dear Jack,

There are lots of ways to get what you want in this world. Some ways are apparent and some are only apparent to a few. Your father has taught me to be one of those few. You probably won’t be at an age for a very long time before you understand there’s a method to his madness—so allow me to explain.

There was a cancer specialist/surgeon I wanted to see early on in my treatment. I was informed I needed to get on his waiting list because, due to the fact that he is so good, the wait time to see him is upwards of six months. I did as I was told by my doctor and scheduled an appointment.

Only, when I told your father about the appointment, he was livid. I don’t know that I’d ever seen him so angry with me. As he paced across our kitchen floor, back and forth, back and forth, as he was tethered to the wall by the phone cord, he scolded me. This is life and death, he chided—smoke practically blowing out of his ears. I tried to tell him about the waitlist and how it wasn’t my fault that the appointment was six months away—but he wouldn’t hear any of it. Rules, and waitlists, and stupid excuses, do not apply, he said into the phone, when his wife’s life was at stake. And after a while, when it seemed he was getting nowhere with the nurse—he pulled out a trick I hadn’t even considered.

“Ask Dr. Clark if he’d be willing to see my wife after hours for an additional stipend,” he said. “I’m willing to pay off hour’s fees, whatever those may be. Find out and call me back ASAP,” he ordered. I sat there my mouth agape. “You can’t just pay off the doctor,” I told him. “We don’t have that kind of money.”

“I’m not paying him off,” he remarked. “I’m getting your foot in the door. And we’re bloody hell not going to wait six months to go by for it to happen either. Some things you wait for. And some you make happen.”

To my surprise, Dr. Clark’s nurse called back fifteen minutes later offering me an appointment the following week. I couldn’t have known it then, but your father’s persistence, his unwillingness to give up, added at least three years to my life. The one hundred and fifty dollars extra we paid to see the surgeon sooner rather than later paid for itself a thousand times over. It bought me time.

That day, I learned to act quickly. Especially where it matters. Do not take no for an answer just because someone tells you it once, or twice, or three times. Find another way. You’ll be surprised at how often it’s worth it.