Past
Just because you marry someone doesn’t mean you know them. You may think you do, but you don’t. Not the stuff that matters anyway.
Their past.
Their secrets.
The demons they keep locked away inside.
But honestly, does a person ever really know someone? I mean, there’s what they say out loud, then there’s what they feel inside.
Only they know the truth. What’s hurting them. What eats them up at night. What plagues their soul.
No matter how many ways I try to twist it, I am living a lie. And denial has become not only my best friend but also the key to my survival. I think the day I realized that was on Caroline’s fourth birthday.
“How are you?” Rachel asks after everyone has left, leaving us alone in the kitchen to clean up.
I’ve told her about Dean’s addiction and that he is getting help, what I didn’t tell her is that he’s been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and things are getting worse. No one knows. Not even Linc.
“I’m fine,” I answer, shoving the discarded paper plates into the garbage.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
I’m fine.
Those two words run on loop constantly in my head. I keep thinking that maybe if I convince myself, everyone else will believe it, too.
“He looks better,” she comments, looking out the window.
“He is.” I smile but it’s lie.
Dean agreed to rehab but only if it was outpatient. I agreed, thinking anything was better than nothing. At first it seemed like he was getting better. He went to all of his counseling sessions and the doctor prescribed him Suboxone to slowly wean him off the heroin.
But then he was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder.
Which explains his extreme mood swings. And so many other things. It was hard to find an antidepressant he could take with the Suboxone but his doctor finally found one they thought would work with his other medication.
However, Dean refuses to take it.
He says he doesn’t like taking them. That they make him feel helpless and weak. He doesn’t like feeling dependent on them to function, and I understand that. Who would want to be dependent on a pill to make you happy, but the truth is he needs them.
The Suboxone helps with his addiction but it does nothing to alleviate the darkness that continues to plague him.
The darkness that has begun to consume me.
What concerns me most, aside from him not taking his medication, is his relationship with Dani and the influence she has on him. She insists Dean doesn’t need to be medicated either. That the doctors are crazy and there is nothing wrong with her brother. She is a constant threat to his stability and it has gotten so bad I told Dean I didn’t want her coming around anymore. I didn’t want to do it. No one should ever have to make a choice like that, but the last thing he needs is someone dragging him back down the same black hole he’s trying to climb out of.
He’s tried to distance himself, but after all, she is his sister, and sometimes no matter how hard we try to eliminate the toxic people in our lives, they always seem to find their way back in. Because we love them and it’s just too hard to let go. Especially when you want to do everything you can to help them.
It’s been incredibly hard to be the mother I want to be as well as Dean’s wife. Both are exhausting and a full-time obligation. Not to mention I’d started working for my dad full-time because Dean quit his job in order to focus on getting better. He’s still doing side jobs but they are few and far between.
I walk over to the kitchen window, joining Rachel to watch Dean as he pushes Caroline on her new wooden swing set. He spent hours putting it together last night. He was up until well after midnight and nothing could stop him from completing the task. He was so committed to making it perfect for her, and it is in these moments I can see the man he so desperately wants to be.
He wants to get better. He’s trying so hard, but every time he takes a step forward, something or someone comes along and knocks us a step back.
We continue cleaning up then a few moments later, Dean walks in the back door carrying Caroline, giant tears streaming down her sticky face. “Oh no, what happened?” I ask.
“She fell. Charlie tried to get her Popsicle and he took her to the ground,” Dean explains, talking about the new puppy he got Caroline for her birthday.
Caroline sniffles. “Daddy, it burns.”
Dean sits Caroline down on the counter and tears a paper towel from the holder, wetting it beneath the tap while I examine her wound. “It hurts, Mama.”
“I know, baby,” I soothe, blowing on the small patch of shredded skin.
Dean presses the wet paper towel to her knee and Caroline hisses as he applies a little bit of pressure.
Once we get her bandaged up and get another Popsicle in her hand, Dean takes a seat at the kitchen table, bouncing Caroline in his lap. “You’re such a big girl,” he praises, and my heart floods with warmth when a huge smile spreads her tiny red lips.
My heart swells but quickly deflates when Dean’s phone rings from his pocket. I know right away who it is. He has a special ringtone just for Dani. Dean ignores the call the first time, avoiding my gaze and playing with Caroline, but after the second call he gives in and stands up from the table, lowering Caroline to the floor. He walks into the living room to take the call. I’m trying to make out what he’s saying, but I can only hear the sound of his voice.
When he walks back into the kitchen, I know something is up. He tilts his head for me to follow him back into the living room. “Rachel, can you keep an eye on Caroline for a sec?” I ask.
“Sure.”
Dean is standing by the front door with a pinched look on his face. “Dani’s in trouble,” he says nervously. “I have to go.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I frown. “What kind of trouble?”
“She’s at some guy’s house and she’s scared out of her fucking mind. I could hardly make out what she was saying. I need to go pick her up.”
“Call the police. Let them go get her.”
“Sylvie, I’m not calling the police. She’s my sister and she needs my help. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Dean. You shouldn’t go to someone’s house you don’t know by yourself. Where is she anyway?”
“South side.”
“Dean—”
“I know. I promise it’ll be fine. I’ll call you as soon as I leave,” he says, kissing my cheek before walking out the door.
And just when I think things can’t get worse…
They do.