A Missing Heart (25 page)

She slaps her arm over her eyes and forces a tight-lipped smile. Looks like the nasty drinks we had last night didn’t agree with her. She’s probably going to get sick. “Thanks, AJ.”

“And you,” I point to Ever, “Take care of her, okay?”

“I’m used to helping with hangovers,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

I close my eyes and slap the air. “We’ll discuss that more later. God.”

My drive over to the hospital feels like it takes forever, and the heaviness of my head isn’t helping. Thoughts of the scene with Tori last night were a blur as I raced over to the hotel to find Cammy, in hopes of having someone to talk this out with, but that went in a completely different direction. Now that I’m getting closer to seeing Tori, though, the real understanding of what went down last night is sickening. What do they do about serial suicide attempts? Clearly, the meds they had her on weren’t working or aren’t strong enough. Though, while on the meds she came home with originally after last year’s episode, she was like a zombie for two weeks before they adjusted the prescription.

When I arrive at the hospital, I take a deep breath, preparing for this next adventure in my day as I walk in through the main entrance. I go up to the tenth floor where the psych department is and approach the front desk. “Can I help you?” a receptionist asks.

“I’m here to visit my wife, Tori Cole.”
My wife who no longer wants to be my wife
, I should add. She types something into her computer and waits a brief moment for something to pop up on the monitor.

The woman looks up at me and inhales sharply. “She’s in confinement right now.”

“Confinement?” I ask, feeling the sickness in my stomach grow.

“I’m not allowed to discuss any further details with you, sir.”

“So, I can’t see her?” I ask, cracking each of my knuckles below the counter. What could have happened? I watched them put her in the ambulance.

“I’ll have the doctor on duty come speak with you. You can have a seat in through here. I’ll buzz you in,” she says, pointing to the closed doors beside the reception desk.

I walk through the armed doors and take a seat, feeling uncomfortable sitting here in what doesn’t look like a waiting area. While being modern, the whole area is bare and stark, apparently in an attempt to be devoid of anything patients could use to harm themselves or others. Patients are walking by, looking at me like I don’t belong on this floor. I can’t help wondering what each of these people did to end up in this part of the hospital. It’s one of those things people don’t usually speak about. At least, I’ve never been too aware of what happens here, how they treat a suicidal patient. Tori didn’t want me here last time either, and by the time she was brought to this floor, I was already gone. I can assume it’s embarrassing to be here.

I make my way through two magazines while I sit and wait for the doc to come out and talk to me, but I’m growing more uncomfortable by the minute, as I’ve now seen a woman being dragged into her room, crying and screaming. A man has run through the halls completely naked, and a teenage girl tried her hand at sneaking out.

“Mr. Cole?” a doctor asks, turning a nearby corner. I nod my head, and he says, “Come with me,” tilting his head for me to follow him. Silently, we walk down the hall until we reach an office, where he closes the door behind me. “Have a seat.”

I take a seat across from his oversized, dark wooden desk and interlace my fingers together, squeezing my hands tightly while I anxiously wait for him to talk. “We’ve done a number of tests on Tori, and everything has come back clear, which means there is nothing physically attributing to her disorder. It seems to be purely caused by trauma.”

“Yes,” I agree. “I would believe that’s correct.”

“Are you aware of the traumatic event that seems to have started her illness? She has given me permission to speak with you about it.”

“I am now. She told me everything, I think, last night.”

The doctor nods his head with understanding. “Our head psychiatrist was also able to have a breakthrough with her last night, as well. It definitely helps us to have a clearer picture of what we’re dealing with, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Of course,” I say.

“While trauma affects each person differently, it’s harsher when the trauma occurs during childhood, as adults have better coping mechanisms than children do. Tori has an extreme case of post-traumatic-stress disorder, and while we were somewhat aware of this fact, we are coming to learn how serious it is at this point.” The doctor leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head, expelling a long breath.

“What’s the plan now, then?” I ask, leaning forward, needing to find a way to get more air into my lungs.

“We’ve suggested keeping her here and placing her into another rehab program, which she has agreed to, but this time, we’re going to need to work together to come up with a long-term plan that will allow Tori to heal properly, which could prolong the length, as well as the quality, of her life.”

“What would something like that be?” I ask.

“Mr. Cole,” he begins. “Typically, I’m pretty big on family and keeping them together. I have a wife and three kids, so that’s where my head usually is. But, Tori’s trigger is your son. For a reason neither of us can fully comprehend, motherhood has been detrimental to her mental health. Technically, one could argue that the loss of her mother and sister should have nothing to do with you or your son, but Tori is channeling parts of her mother, while also focusing on the death of her sister, which she takes full blame for. At least that’s the conclusion we have currently come to.”

I recoil a bit, taking in everything he’s saying. “What are you saying?” He’s telling me the same thing she said to me last night. Not that this very same thought hasn’t entered my mind a few times this past year, but I’ve tried my hardest to stand by her side through the many thin parts of our marriage.

“Like I said, this is not a normal situation, AJ, and we’re talking about the health and safety of your wife.”

“Can I talk to her about this?” I ask. Not that she didn’t make it all clear last night, but I need to hear it when she’s calm and not speaking through raging emotions.

“Sure,” he says. “I just wanted to have this conversation first so things weren’t shocking if you hear it from her.”

“This isn’t a surprise,” I assure him. “They said she was in confinement? I didn’t realize that was something you did here.”

He nods, while standing up with a file of papers. “Yes, she was not compliant this morning and still searching for a method to take her own life. It was for her own safety.”

“Is it safe to speak with her? I mean, for her sake?”

“You’ll be supervised in a safe room. You can follow me.”

I feel like my mind should have caught up to this reality by now, but I’m still having a real hard time wrapping my head around it.

Following the doctor down several hallways, we turn in to a large a room with mirrors and a table with two chairs. This feels like some kind of sick joke.

He opens his arm, motioning me to walk in. “Tori will be in momentarily. You can have a seat, facing away from the mirror.”

The door closes behind me and I immediately feel confined, smothered, and imprisoned. I have no idea who or how many people are watching me on the other side of this mirror and I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing.

A few minutes pass and the door opens. Tori is escorted in by a nurse and seated in front of me as if she were a prisoner too. “If you need anything, raise your hand, and we will be in to assist you.” Reality sets in as I realize how things have progressed overnight. It’s out of my realm of comprehension.

Tori looks nearly unfamiliar without her makeup, and her hair is a mess. The whites of her eyes are a light pink and her cheeks match in color. When she places her hands down on the table, they’re shaking, and she’s having a hard time looking at me. “I’m your husband,” I tell her. “You can look at me, Tori.” I bow my head trying to catch her attention. She must be filled with drugs right now because all of her movements are sluggish and delayed.

“I told them everything,” she says.

“That’s really good,” I reply, speaking to her as if she were a child.

“I need to go away,” she says.

This was the part that wasn’t supposed to come as a shock to me. Yet, it still feels unreal.

“Go where?”

“I’m going to Idaho to find my dad.”

“Your dad? Will you come back?”

“I need answers from him. And…no,” she says quickly, flatly, without looking at me.

“What about Gavin?” I realize even saying his name could be a red flag in this room right now, but it’s tearing my heart in half knowing that my son might grow up without a mother. I single handedly tried to pick up Hunter’s pieces right after he went through Ellie’s death. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, and now, here I am. I can’t understand this.

Her hands clamp together, and her knuckles turn white. “I can’t right now.” With an elongated exhale, she unfolds her hand and drops a tiny yellow envelope onto the table and pushes it toward me.

“And us?” I ask, opening the envelope, finding her engagement ring and wedding band inside.

“I can’t handle that, either,” she says hastily.

I feel my head nodding, but I’m also completely lacking cohesive thoughts. Is she asking for a divorce? A break? A pause? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? “Am I going to see you again, Tori?”

The door to the room opens and a nurse walks in. “I think that’s going to be enough for today.”

“I don’t know,” Tori cries. “I don’t know, AJ. You’re making this worse. You’ve been making this worse. I’m not good for you and you’re not good for me. I was never meant to be a mother, I’m sorry.”

I push myself away from the table…distraught, angered, and outraged even. After putting all of my effort into this failing marriage for two fucking years now, she has a nervous breakdown or whatever the clinical term for this is, calls it quits on me, hands her rings back, and then “that’s enough for today”. Well, great. I guess I have no other choice but to be done too. “How long is she going to be here for?” I ask the nurse.

“We aren’t sure. She has asked to be transferred to a rehab facility in Idaho. We will consult with you before any final decisions are made.”

“Perfect, thanks,” I snap.

I inhale deeply through my nose and gently tuck the chair back in before leaving the room.

I’ve always managed to keep myself and my life under some kind of control and yet, things around me are always spinning in circles, trapping me in the very center. I’ve had it. If she wants me to move on without her, fine, but I’ll make damn sure I give Gavin the life he deserves. If we’re the ones who are destroying her, she can go on and pretend like neither of us ever happened.

By the time I get back into my truck, a million fucking realizations hit me at once. How the hell am I going to explain this to everyone, especially to our son? She just left me to pick up all of her pieces. It’s like she always knew in the back of her mind that this was an option. I was just too damn ignorant to see it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I THINK I’VE
driven a full circle around this damn state today, just needing to think, but it’s been hours now, and I need to see Gavin. I never leave him for a night, never mind almost an entire day at this point.

Pulling into Hunter’s driveway, I see Olive and Lana standing at the door, jumping up and down with excitement, waving at me to hurry up. I jump out of the truck and jog up to the front door. “What are my favorite nieces so excited about right now?” I ask them.

“Gavin is about to take a step! Hurry up! I’ve been working with him since I got home from school, and I think he’s almost got it.” Olive and Lana have pretty much been big sisters to Gavin since the day he was born. Whenever they’re together, they spend every minute with him, trying to teach him
new tricks
, as I’m told.

“No kidding?” I exclaim, racing through the house to find him. We’ve been waiting for Gavin to walk for months now, and I was starting to get a little worried considering he’s sixteen months old. I thought all kids were walking by now, but I guess he’s just been taking his sweet old time.

When I get into the family room, I find Gavin holding onto the side of the couch with a big toothy grin. “Da-da!” He bounces his knees with excitement and waves his hand at me.

“Gavin, ready? Let’s show Da-da what we’ve been practicing,” Olive says.

Olive holds up the remote, which is Gavin’s favorite toy—no surprise there since he
is
my kid—and stands a few feet away from him with her arms out stretched.

Gavin reaches for it and I find myself rooting him on, pleading to experience this first with him right now. I need some good at this moment. I kneel down and wave him forward. “Come on, buddy!”

“You can do it, Gavin!” Lana squeals. Gavin adores the excitement the girls constantly offer him.

A giggle rumbles through his belly and he takes a step, and another, and another, then three more before falling into Olive, knocking her backwards as they both roll over laughing. The sight of Gavin taking those first steps both bends and breaks my heart at the same time. “Call Aunt Tori!” Olive shouts. “She’ll want to see this.”