Leap (28 page)

We meet with Lt. Commander August who briefs us on everything. He will be our contact as well as Don Gould, who runs the news network Mack works for.

Jocelyn is in bad shape. She’s never been the same since John was killed on 9/11. Now because of that day, and what is going on in the world, her son's life is in jeopardy.

We were only in Washington for a few days. Back home with Haven, I try to make life as normal as possible for her. She asks a lot of questions. I keep up with my lying.

I try to concentrate at work, but it’s difficult. At home, it’s no better. My boss offered me a leave of absence, which means no pay. We live in a gorgeous apartment with gorgeous bills. So, I’ll keep working and try to keep my mind occupied.

At night, Haven and I cuddle after she’s finished her homework and had a shower. We talk about her day and my day. I need her. When she falls asleep, sometimes I let her just sleep in my bed. On the nights where the fear and anxiety take over, and I do nothing but cry myself to sleep, I carry her to her bedroom. I haven’t washed Mack’s pillowcase. I keep it next to me as I sleep. I inhale his scent and play his last voicemail to me every night before I allow the anti-anxiety meds to kick in, and I drift off.

It can’t still be dark. My alarm is going off. I can’t find it to shut it off. I can’t find the lamp, or see my hand. I’m blinking, but nothing is happening. I keep rubbing my eyes, and they hurt. I have a pain in my head. I fall out of bed and yell for Haven. I feel around, but I’m so confused I don’t know what I‘m feeling.

“Haven! Help me! Help!” She’s not here. She stayed at her grandmother’s. She’s in Merrick, and I’m here alone. I can’t see. Why can’t I see? Oh God, please help me. I feel for my bedside table, and I feel my phone. I can hardly breathe; I’m so scared. I push numbers over and over again and nothing happens. Why doesn’t anyone answer? Someone has to answer. No one does, so I scream. I scream like I’m being tortured, which I am. I scream and scream and scream. I scream so loudly and for so long, I’m going hoarse. I crawl around on the floor until I can see a very dim light. I follow with my one hand along the wall and the other feeling the floor. Someone is calling my name and banging on the door.

“Ms. Blanchard. Ms. Blanchard, can you hear me?” I cry and scream yes, help me. Someone help me. I can’t see. I can’t see. The voice is growing nearer so I know I must be near the living room. I hit my head a few times, but I continue on.

“Ms. Blanchard, help is on the way.” The voice is our doorman, Darnell. I recognize it. I stay still and rock back and forth. My chin is tucked under my chest. And I wait.

And I wait.

Darnell keeps talking to me. I answer him that I’m okay. I want Mack. I need Mack.

The sound of the heavy door to our apartment crashes open, and I wait to hear his voice. Mack’s voice. But I don’t. I hear someone say they are a police officer. It’s not Mack. That’s how I know I’m awake in the darkness and somehow this is still a nightmare.

The darkness remains for five days. Slowly, the light begins to show through but only in one eye. Chances of the vision coming back in said eye—slim. Poked and prodded. MRIs, CAT-scans, blood taken, spinal taps.

First diagnosis: Optic Neuritis. What is that exactly? Inflammation of the optic nerves in the eyes. The reason why I lost my sight suddenly. Several things bring this on. This brings me to my second and final diagnosis: Multiple Sclerosis.

A disease of the Central Nervous System. Turns out I’ve been having symptoms for years but for some reason, at this particular time, it’s decided to rear its ugly head. The bad headaches, the difficulty concentrating, chronic muscle fatigue. Anxiety. And just when I thought all of it was because of Mack’s kidnapping. I couldn’t be more wrong. The disease can hide for years. The symptoms are vague and may appear to be just from normal, daily life.

Why now? I don’t know. Maybe in this fucked up universe some powers that be said, “Hey let’s fuck her up some more and give her a disease.”

It’s a progressive disease. I’m in pain most days. I can’t drive, or take care of Haven. More lies had to be explained to her when I got out of the hospital. I told her I fell and had to have surgery on my knee. I told her it would be a lengthy recovery and that we would have to move until her dad got home. I can’t live on my own. I can’t live in the apartment and take care of Haven by myself. I moved back to Long Island to live with my parents. I sublet the apartment so the rent is taken care of. I can’t work. Who can be a photographer when you can only see out of one eye? No one.

We enrolled Haven in school in Long Beach. One week she is with Jocelyn, and the other week she shares with her other grandmother in Merrick. The constant battle with her was why she couldn’t help take care of me. I didn’t want her to see me this way, but living next door to Jocelyn couldn’t keep it that way.

Adjusting has been a challenge to say the least. I need help with everything I do. Getting dressed, showering, and walking. I’m too young for this. I’m too young to have to rely on my parents to help me with everything. I’m too young not to work and do what I love. I’m too young to have the person I love most in this world ripped out from under me. I’m angry. No, I’m more than angry. I’m fucking pissed. I’m so mad that this is my life. I cry every night for him. Of course I do. I play his voicemail in order to go to sleep at night. I want to look up at our old, fading stars on my ceiling together. I want to hold him and rub the scar over his eye that I gave him and tell him without words that I’m sorry. I shouldn't have been so damn stubborn. Why didn’t I say yes and marry him? Would he have quit traveling if I did? I’m not so sure any of that would have made a difference. I still would have this disease, and Mack would have to be the one to take care of me. Would he even want me knowing that I’ll just get worse as time goes on? Why would a handsome, intelligent, powerful man like Mack want an invalid?

I see a shrink. He doesn’t help, except he gives me pills to try to make me happy. The only way I’d be happy again is if Mack were here. Haven makes me happy, and she makes me sad. It makes me sad I can’t swim in the ocean with her, or coach her in softball. It makes me sad we can’t live back at our apartment in Manhattan. It makes me sad I can’t take photographs of her like I used to. I am so pathetic even I’m tired of hearing me whine.

Each day gets harder and harder. Every day when there’s no word about Mack, it pulls me down. So far down sometimes I don’t think I can ever climb back up. There’s no God. If there were, this life, or lack of wouldn’t exist. I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. I’m tired of lying to Haven. I’m tired of it all. I want Mack, God dammit. I just want him to hold me and tell me that everything will be okay. Will life ever be okay again?

CORRINE ~ IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE

I
had a dream last night. A beautiful dream. We were on our beach. The one near our homes. Me, Mack, and Haven. I was walking fine. I could see out of both eyes. We were all dressed in white. The crystal blue waters were at our feet. Haven was splashing around us as our feet sunk into the sand. Mack kept telling me he loved me and he was so happy. He stopped me so he could kiss me. I reached up to touch his scar because I wanted to tell him I’m sorry for not marrying him, but it wasn’t there. There was no scar. Just his simple, beautiful face. I look down at my belly and it’s round and swollen. Mack’s hand is on it and he rubs it in circles. He tells me he can’t wait to meet the little part of him and the little part of me. Haven runs over and kisses my belly. She seems so excited as she whispers to the baby growing inside me to come out soon.

I know it was a dream because all of those things will never happen. Even if Mack were here—children are not recommended with my condition. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want the dream to mean a lot of things. Especially that he was perfect and in heaven. He didn’t have his scar. I think about that. Is it a silent meaning that we are perfect when we die? There are no flaws or marks on us. Or does it mean I never had anything to be sorry for. I wanted to keep walking on that beach and live our lives happy and healthy. I wanted to live in that dream.

There won’t be a casket. Just a memorial service. That’s what has been decided. A week from now, everyone who loved Mack will say goodbye to him. I’m not prepared for today. I’m not prepared to tell Haven he’s gone. I’m not prepared to tell Owen he has to eulogize his best friend. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to live my life without him. Sometimes it’s the inevitable that we’re not prepared for. We’re all destined for something in life. Maybe this is how it’s all supposed to be. Maybe this was the path of life that was chosen for all of us. Maybe it was all part of the master plan. The night after Mack read my journal, Veronica told him she was pregnant. That’s why he didn’t approach me about what I had written. Then she died and Haven was Mack’s responsibility. Then she became mine because I wanted her. Maybe it was the plan all along. 9/11, John dying, Mack becoming a journalist and wanting to find answers because he thought he owed that to his father. This was his journey. My journey was to keep loving him even when I didn’t know he loved me and be a good mother for Haven. Quite possibly all the cards were lined up for us from day one. All of us. Maybe I was only meant to live in love and happiness with Mack for a short time, but I’d always have Haven to be a reminder of him. I would always have a piece of Mack to hold on to. The mysteries of life and love are summed up in a series of events that shape us. I don’t know if I would choose my life if I could go back knowing all the things that happened were going to happen. Some of it—yes. Fortunate and unfortunate, we have to live with it. I’m still not ready to tell my little girl, but like I said, it's the inevitable that we are never prepared for.

I want to go to our spot on the shoreline. The one I dreamt of last night. I want to sit there and talk to Mack. I want to ask him the questions I’ll never get the answers to. Maybe if I listen hard enough, I’ll hear him whisper them in the wind.

My dad drives me down. He tells me he’s going to go pick up Haven from her friend's house. I tell him I need a little more time. He understands. My mother is taking care of Jocelyn. She needs her. I need our spot.