The Truth About Love (16 page)

Before I had managed to get back to the parking garage, he had already called me.

“How did it go?”  He sounded so excited.

I was rather proud of my accomplishment and eager to share with someone who wasn’t going to condemn me.  “The judge modified the order.  When you’re released, you’ll be able to live in the house again.  We have to go back, both of us, on November 20
th
to finalize things.”

“Great!  I should be getting out tomorrow.”  Apparently he had some accomplishments to share too.

At first, I was alarmed, but then I remembered how many times I had heard this from him over the past week. “The doctor hasn’t spoken to me yet.  We’ll see, okay?”

“Well, I told her to call you.”  

There it was, the same arrogance, always thinking he could control everyone and everything around him, which resulted in half of his frustration.  It wasn’t so long ago we had ended up in a huge fight because he wanted to sell the house, but his sense of the home value was skewed.  He had yet to realize the value had little to do with what we paid, or the money we had spent renovating.  Value was determined by how much a buyer would pay and how much an appraiser felt the home was worth.  While I merely struggled to explain, he took it as me being pessimistic.

“You’re so negative!  Why can’t you just be positive once in a while?”

“I’m being realistic!”  I argued.

“If this house were built a mile away, it would be worth over $300,000.”  He countered.

“Yes, but it won’t be appraised on that, it will be valued at its actual location.  So that doesn’t matter.”  I let out a huff of frustration.

Fighting him was fruitless.  He wouldn’t believe anything I said.  Sure, we had the nicest house in the neighborhood, but honestly, smart buyers wouldn’t care.
  “
Okay, let’s see what the realtor says.”

When the realtor arrived and asked Shane how much he wanted to list it for, he nearly choked on the response.  I watched as his eyebrows rose.  They walked around and Shane pointed out the high-end finishes, the special touches.  The realtor old him there was no way we’d get Shane’s asking price. 

Now Shane was bossing around the doctor and telling me he’d be home tomorrow.
  “
I shouldn’t be in here.  I’ve been very patient with them.  Today, I warned her that if she doesn’t let me leave, things are going to get nasty.”

My temper flared.  “So you’re in there for anger management issues and believe threatening the doctor caring for you will result in an earlier release?”

“I’m here for withdrawal problems from the Xanax.”  Technically, he was right.  In reality, he should be addressing the reasons he had been abusing the Xanax and every other drug he came in contact with.

“Okay.”
 
It was easier to agree.  How many times a day did I have to remind myself I’d rather be happy than right?  So I swallowed my words, choked them down, and just kept the peace.  That practice had served me well.
  “
Let me go.  Traffic is terrible and I still have to take Brynn home.”

Hours later, around seven in the evening, I realized I’d missed a call from the hospital.  It was the doctor.  After many attempts on both sides, we finally caught up with each other.  

“As you know I’ve been treating your husband, Shane.”  The doctor began.
  “
So, we’re looking at letting him go tomorrow.”

My heart stopped.  In that moment, it just ceased beating altogether.  
Then I spoke my mind.  “
He threatened you and you caved?  I thought you were supposed to fix that.”

“Well, quite honestly, we’ve done all we can for him.”

My head was in my hands.  “The social worker had me change the Order of Protection.  I was under the impression he wouldn’t be released until he was safe and exhibiting self-control.  Instead, you tell me he’s being released because you have basically given up?  That doesn’t bode well.”

The woman bristled.  “I think there’s a problem because you both have very strong personalities.”

I responded with a hollow laugh.  “I have to.  Can you imagine how broken I’d be by now if I didn’t?  I’m about the only one in his life who calls him out, not that it has worked out well for me, mind you, but even you are giving up.”

She tried to soothe me.  “He should be fine as long as he takes the medication as prescribed.”

I shook my head.  “You say this and yet you have his file, which means you know he has a tendency to self-medicate, over-indulge, and completely disregard the recommended dosage.  He took over fifty Somas in four days!  How’s this ever going to work?”  I could feel tears prickling my eyes.

“Quite honestly, I am afraid for you and your daughter.  Your evaluation of him hit a nail on the head.  He is delusional, and has an inflated sense of self.  Clearly, he has an addictive personality and is often depressed, not to mention his victim personality where everything is someone else’s fault.”

“What have you prescribed?”  Sitting down at the table, I pulled up the drug database on my laptop.

“We gave him Seroquel.”  The doctor seemed confident in the choice.

A second later I had the information pulled up on the screen.  “
It’s for schizophrenia, bi-polar, and major depressive personalities.”

“It’s an anti-psychotic.”

“Right.  That doesn’t make it sound better.”
 
We were silent a moment before I finally spoke.  The weight of all she had said was heavy on my heart and in my mind.
  “
What do you suggest?”

She spoke seriously.  “Have a ditch bag and a plan.  If he loses his temper, don’t stick around.”

I waited for something more.  Apparently that was it.  “Awesome.”  

“I can sense your frustration.”  She used her best doctor speak.

“Of course I’m frustrated.”  I stood and paced.  “You are releasing a ticking time bomb into my care five days earlier than I was told, the day after I had the Order of Protection modified.  Is it any wonder?”

She had nothing left to say.

***

After Kylie fell asleep, I went through some of the paperwork I had received from Victim’s Assistance.  There was a list of documents which should be kept together in case of a quick departure.  

•                
  Copies/Originals of All Identity Documents:
  
•                
  birth certificate
  
•                
  social security card
  
•                
  passports
  
•                
  permanent residency card
  
•                
  driver’s license
  
•                
  Certificates, Proof of Income, All Types of Accounts, Pictures of each family member:
  
•                
  copy of marriage certificate
  
•                
  copy of most recent (2 years) W-2’s for all employed adults in the home
  
•                
  Bank account information, numbers and copy of a statement w/names
  
•                
  List of all credit cards, numbers, security code, name on card, copy of statement w/name
  
•                
  Utility account numbers and copy of a statement w/names
  
•                
  copy of deed for home
  
•                
  copy of vehicle titles, or car registration
  
•                
  list of inventory of everything in the home with model numbers and pictures if possible
  
•                
  copy of will
  
•                
  copy of all insurance policies and/or statement
  
•                
  copy of insurance cards
  

•                
  Domestic Violence Proof:
  
•                
  copy of all current court orders & police reports
  
•                
  photos of most recent property damage/physical injury... if you can get these safely!!
  

If you took your abuser’s original identity documents, make copies for your records and find a way to safely return the originals (mutual friend, pastor...)

Luckily, we have a home office.  Making copies wasn’t a challenge.  As I collected and copied everything, I stuffed it in a big manila envelope and then placed the envelope in my computer bag, so I’d never leave the house without it.  In the cargo bay, I stuck a box of spare feeding bags and two boxes of her liquid nutrition.  We’d never be caught without them again.  Somehow, this brought me some comfort.

Our morning was quiet for the first time since everything went nuts almost two weeks before.  Kylie played in the bathroom while I showered.  We ate breakfast together, enjoyed our routine.  Somehow, the time passed so quickly I barely had time to worry or think about it until Shane called.
 
When I answered, he sounded incredibly upbeat.

“So I heard you talked to the doctor last night.”  

“Yup.”  I didn’t know what else to say.  I had no idea how much of our conversation she’d revealed to him.

“Well, be ready because I should be getting out this afternoon sometime.  I’ll call and let you know.” 

“Sounds good.”
 
I wasn’t lying.  In some ways, it did sound good.  When we talked and he was pleasant and positively bursting with happiness, it was incredibly contagious and I wanted to bask in the glow of his good mood.  At the same time, when the mood fizzled, I had learned to snatch up Kylie and leave the vicinity, moving to another room in the house.  Now it seemed like I would have to move from the house altogether.  At the same time, I felt guilty, what if I wasn’t even giving him a chance.  What if I was just being as negative as he claimed?

Rather than spend the rest of our wait time working myself up into a frenzy before I picked him up, I decided to do a few things for myself, things designed to make me feel better, more relaxed.  So, I gave myself a facial then I fed Kylie and laid her down for a nap.  When she woke, we went to get my haircut.  The ends were looking ragged and I needed a style.

All of a sudden, while I was still at the salon, the phone rang.

“I’m ready.”  Shane announced.

“Okay.  I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

On the way, I stopped at McDonald’s so I could pick up a soda.  Then I pulled into a gas station to fill up the tank.  Even after, when I was stuck in traffic,  I felt calm about it, completely at peace with my decisions.

After parking, I grabbed Kylie’s stroller and strapped her into it.  I had no idea how much walking or waiting we had in store.  He had mentioned when he was discharged, there would be scripts to fill at the pharmacy on site.  

We entered through the handicap entrance because there was no way I could do the turnstile with Kylie.  Walking briskly down the hall, I was met halfway by Shane.  He was thrilled to be out and eager to rush out the door to freedom.  Though I had no exact experience to relate to, I imagine it was something like leaving the hospital with Kylie after one of her long hospital stays.  

As excited as our little one was to see her daddy, he seemed just as eager to hold her.  For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t so scary to let him.  It had been just shy of two weeks since he’d touched her, seen her.

“She’s bigger and heavier.”  He noted. 

“Yup.”

“I’m dying for some food, real food.  You hungry?”  I could tell he wanted me to stop somewhere.

“Yes.  I stopped to get you a soda because I figured you might be craving one.” 

“Great!  Thank you.”
 
Then he leaned over and kissed me, gave me a big hug in a way he hadn’t in such a long time.  It had me unsettled.  I couldn’t decide how to feel about it, how to react or respond.  After he offered me a huge smile, I could feel my heart melting.  Soon, I started to think...
maybe he is better.  Maybe this will work.  We might just have a future after all.

Half an hour later, when he walked into the house, I could see him trying to make sense of things.
  “
What do you remember?”

His forehead scrunched up.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know how much I remember and how much is what I was told happened.”  

I paused before speaking once more.  “Apparently, Corinne asked you about the damage to the house and you said something about leaving when the sheriff served you and when you returned, the house looked like this.” 

Walking around, he checked out the house, room by room.  Judging by the look on his face, it bothered him greatly.  
“
They said it was a complete psychotic break, that I just lost control of my mind and my actions.”

Kylie was on my hip, clinging to me.  Finally I spoke.  “I would agree with that.”

In the hall, he paused in front of the thermostat.  The new one had yet to be installed, the LED screen on the existing one was completely messed up and impossible to read.  
“
We’ll have to fix this today.”  He noted as he tapped the broken plastic.

“The new one is on the counter, I couldn’t figure it out.”  I shrugged.

His chest puffed out some.  “I can have it replaced in minutes.”  

Reaching over, he caressed my face, as if he were trying to rub the worry from it before continuing into the bedroom.  The minute he opened the door, the sound of plastic blowing around alerted him to the window.  
“
I should measure that and call in the glass today.”  He was all business, completely devoid of guilt.

Nodding, I walked over to the bag he had just dumped on the bed.  It only took me a few minutes to sort the dirty clothes and return his toiletries to their rightful positions in the bathroom.  The rest of the day would be a constant effort to return to normalcy.

To say it was a challenge would be an understatement.  I’ll admit I watched him like a hawk.  I had to.  Time and again he had shown he couldn’t be trusted with prescription drugs.  Even the doctor had suggested I watch for any sudden mood changes.  Still, it’s impossible to live in a constant state of readiness, always on alert.  It will take a toll on a body, as much as recovering from the meds had a taken a toll on his.

When he suggested we go to bed at nine at night, just after Kylie fell asleep in my arms on the couch, I didn’t argue.  In fact, I needed the rest for my mind, even more than for my body.  Tomorrow was another day.  So we settled in on the couch like I had, ever since I returned.  Kylie filled the void between us.

***

The next day was completely unremarkable.  While I spent the day on guard, which was utterly exhausting, there had been no red flags.  Shane had enjoyed a nice quiet Saturday with us.  The next day, Sunday, had been a designated family day.  We were to take a road trip, deliver some equipment to a guy in South Carolina.  We’d all be riding in the truck.  He hooked up the trailer while I installed the car seat in the cab.  It was all going so smoothly...until I found the pill bottle.  It was Adderall which had been filled the day before.  Thinking hard, I vaguely remembered how he’d offered to go pick up dinner from one of the nearby restaurants, Fricken Chicken, located right next to Rite Aid.  Of course.

Instantly, all of the progress I’d seen, whether real or imagined, meant nothing.  The pill bottle shattered everything.  Without thinking it through, I hopped out of the cab.
  “
What’s this?
” 
I thrust the bottle toward him angrily.

He shrugged.  “I feel so weak.  I thought it might pick me up.”

“You aren’t supposed to take anything except for what’s prescribed by the doctor at the hospital.  You know this, right?”  My flight or fight instincts were kicking in and I had yet to decide which direction I’d take it.

He nodded quietly.  It was obvious he was too tired to argue with me and his brow wrinkled in confusion.
  “
Why are you so upset with me?  I’m
trying
.”

“Filling scripts you shouldn’t have isn’t trying.”  I spat.  “It’s cheating, already.”

He closed the distance taking a few steps closer.  “What do you want?  You want to give up on us?  You want this to be over?”  He threw his hands in the air.  

At the moment, I couldn’t speak.  There was no answer for his question.  Instead, I had even more to think about.  All I wanted was for life to be normal again, for everything to make sense once more.  Only, maybe this
had
become our normal.  Maybe this
was
the life we were used to.  If it was, it wasn’t the life I wanted back.  This was nothing like the happily ever after I had envisioned.
  So our day was spent in a tense standoff, followed by a chilly night on opposite sides of the couch.

On Monday, Shane had an appointment to be evaluated for outpatient therapy programs.  Armed with this knowledge, I woke up waiting for him to fail.  Part of me wanted to be wrong, but the rest of me kept thinking about the Adderall.  The betrayal felt fresh.  He had so much to prove to me, and it felt like so far, he had only shown he couldn’t be trusted.

When he woke at seven in the morning, and stumbled from the couch to the bedroom, I had already been up for hours, but it still shocked me.

“I’m used to getting up early now because of the hospital.”  He explained.  “Are you impressed?

“Very.”  I admitted.  “What are your plans for the day?”

“There’s that evaluation I have to go to.  I’m not sure how long it will take, so I didn’t make any other plans.”  He looked at me shyly for a moment, then he continued.
  “
Do you have much work to do?  I was hoping we could do something together tonight.”

“Huh.  Like what?”
 
This was different.  In the past, it had always been me who initiated plans, even something like watch television together, offering anything besides pass the night in our separate corners.  In the past, I often felt like we were just roommates.  Now, he lost it, went to jail, ended up in a mental hospital, and he finally was interested in me again.  
Wow.

“Well, we have a lot of shows to catch up on...unless you watched them all without me?”  He watched me expectantly for a response.

“Nope.  I didn’t watch any of our shows.”  I hadn’t had any desire to watch them alone.  Then I realized it had been more than that.  “I left them there just in case.”  Now, it was paying off.  He was making an effort, and I was too.

He came over and sat beside me at the table.  “We could order in food, and watch some television, snuggle on the couch with Kylie.”

“I’d like that.”  I could feel my cheeks flush.  It felt like the blush of new love.

A little while later he went to his appointment and returned after a few hours.  When I tried to talk to him about it, he simply told me the therapist had offered him a program that cost $4000, but he turned it down, asked for an alternative, and was given none.  Inside, I was sighing a lot.  This had better not be the extent of the intensive outpatient program I’d heard so much about.  Still, he was in good spirits and every sign pointed to a good day.  I wasn’t going to be the one who ruined it.  

We did our own thing, working during the day.  Shane started the repairs around the house, which surprised me.  I kept waiting for him to nap, but instead he played with Kylie, and when he was sitting on the couch with me, he reached over to touch me.

Something so simple, so subtle, meant so much.  Like most women, I craved my man’s touch.  In this case, he had laid his hand on my thigh.  It had me all tingly like I hadn’t been for so long.  The little things keep us connected...words, touches, and looks.  All this made me feel like he suddenly loved me again.  It became a huge shot of hope for our future.

***

Life was slowly returning to some new kind of normal.  My biggest challenge was to hang onto hope, to keep positive, and think about all the good things happening in our lives and especially between us.
 
This morning was mental health court day.  

Honestly, I was scared to death.  It was general fear of the unknown.  What would happen there?  While Shane hadn’t had any blow-ups, he also hadn’t been scheduled into any therapy program.  We’d see what the court offered to keep him on the straight and narrow, and ensure our safety.  This was the place the doctor and social worker had used to convince me to change the Order of Protection.  I had been encouraged to come, to participate. Even Kylie was allowed to be there.

We loaded into the car forty-five minutes before we were expected to be there.  We were both smiling when we parked at the hospital where court was being held all of fifteen minutes later.  Kylie was snapped into her stroller once more.   After following a series of signs, we discovered court was held in a room off the cafeteria.  We sat at one of the round tables with a fake floral centerpiece while we waited to be called.  It didn’t take long before we were invited into the mystery room.

There was a long wooden conference table lined with leather wheeled chairs.  All of the chairs were full, except for the two intended for our use.  We sat and I pulled Kylie close to me.  

The entire experience went by in a blur.  It was that meaningless.  The older man in the suit at the head of the table looked like he was the one presiding over the court.  As I settled into my seat, I watched as he read over the file in front of him.  
Finally he spoke.  “
It says here that you are being ordered into an intensive 90 day outpatient program.  Do you agree to participate?”

“Yes, sir.”  Shane clasped his hands together in his lap and leaned forward nervously.

“Okay then.”
 
He signed some papers and we were excused.