Elephant in the Sky (23 page)

57

That night, the four of us sat around the dinner table as Nate talked eagerly about his time at school.

“So, really, Adam and I just got to play all day. Even though it was school! Can you believe that, Mom? Can you? We played all kinds of music and then played with Play-Doh. We made all kinds of stuff, and the nurse loved my elephant the most. I could tell. She asked all kinds of questions about it, and said that she liked that my elephant was laughing and having fun with the rhinoceros that Adam made.”

Hearing of the elephant sculpture Nate had made at school, my mind flew to the picture that Nate had drawn before being admitted into the hospital. I looked up and glanced at the fridge; the picture was no longer there. The angry elephant in the sky was gone.

I returned my eyes to my son, smiling at him and taking in his joy. The new medication was working, and he'd made a new friend. Life was good.

“That's really great, honey! I'm so glad you're happy. How about you, Grace? How was your day?”

“It was
awesome
. Because I got to start in my volleyball game again even though everyone else wanted to …” Grace launched into a full report of her game, with great detail around all the points she scored. According to her confident self, she'd practically won the game all on her own.

“How about you, Ash? How was being back to work?” Pete asked, grabbing more asparagus tips.

“It was good. Really good, actually. It was great to be involved again, and we had an amazing brainstorming session this afternoon. The team is going to be working tonight on the creative, and I'll circle back in the morning to see how far they've come. We'll get there …” I smiled at Pete. Both of us knew that if it had been a few months before, I would have stayed to ensure we reached the right solution.

But I hadn't been prepared to give up my family dinner for anything, or anyone. If the creative wasn't strong, we'd start again. We'd beg for an extension, if absolutely necessary. But we'd get there.

“How about some ice cream for dessert?” Pete asked, clearing the table and heading for the freezer. “A little birdie told me that you kids might like to have some Candy Cane Chocolate Fudge.”

“Yeah!” both kids yelled at the same time. Nate whistled a five-note tune to show his glee. It was the second time he'd done it since I got home, and it was new for him. I wondered where he'd picked it up.

“Crazy to think Christmas is right around the corner,” Pete continued as we all spooned up the minty sweetness of the ice cream. It was a long-standing family favourite that always appeared on the shelves of grocery stores in early December. Nate was licking his bowl.

“No kidding.” I swallowed, feeling a slight sense of panic when I realized we had about two weeks until Christmas Eve. With all that we had gone through with Nate, it had come up so fast. We needed to get our tree and buy presents and decorate the house and hang lights … the list was endless.

“Can I get a xylophone?” Nate asked excitedly. His lips were outlined in chocolate. “Miss Monica says I'm really good at it. I want to practice at home, too.”

“Put it in your letter to Santa,” I said, laughing. I stood to help Pete clear the table. “Maybe he'll bring you one.”

“I think it's going to be an awesome Christmas. With all we've been through, I'm really looking forward to it this year,” Pete said as we loaded the dishwasher. He continued in a hushed voice so the kids wouldn't hear. “It's a new beginning for us, Ash. A new life. And maybe one that should include others we haven't seen in a long time.”

I held the spoon I was about to load in mid-air and stared at my husband. I knew what he was alluding to, and I didn't want to talk about it.

“Your dad's stable now, Ashley. And the last time I talked to him he told me that he's desperate to see you again. To explain things. And to be in your life again. But, well … I don't think he knows what to say. If we invited him here … if we extended an olive branch, I think he'd come.”

I began to protest, but Pete cut me off. “Don't answer now. Just think about it. We could invite him here for a few days over the holidays. I think it would be good for
everyone
in our family, not just you.”

By everyone, I knew he meant Nate. Of course, Grace missed her grandfather as well, but Nate had been hit the hardest by my father no longer being in our lives. The two of them had always shared a special bond, and it was Nate who always brought up his name and asked when he was coming back. Nate had never stopped obsessing over every gift my dad had ever given him before we'd kicked him out on that awful Christmas Eve.

The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I felt. The anxiety was turning my neck into a mosaic of patchy red skin, and I didn't want to think about it for one minute more. I knew Pete had a point about reconnecting, but despite everything I had learned about my father, I still didn't know if I could handle reconciling with the parent who had practically abandoned his daughter when she had needed him the most.

“I don't know. We'll see,” I said curtly, shutting down the conversation. Offering a “maybe” was all I could promise him at that moment. It was all I was ready for. The rest would have to wait.

58

The days leading up to Christmas flew by at the speed of Santa's sleigh as Pete and I scrambled to get ready. Nate continued to do well in school, adjusting to his new classroom at Henry Lewis more and more each day. We hadn't seen him so happy and well balanced in years. He continued to see Dr. Aldridge, although she had recently suggested that he could begin to see her less frequently. His response to the new meds fell well within the best-case scenario Dr. Aldridge had offered us, and even she was astounded by Nate's progress.

Pete didn't press the suggestion of inviting my father for Christmas again, and I was silently relieved to not have to think about it. Although we were both excited about the holidays and how well Nate was doing, every day was a new day, and we never knew what we would get. Dr. Aldridge had warned us repeatedly that something unexpected could trigger a setback, or even a really bad day. Regardless of my own feelings about reconnecting with my father, I didn't know how something as major as a visit with his grandfather would impact Nate's progress.

On the Friday night before Christmas, we invited Tay's family over for hot chocolate and Christmas cookies. It was the first social activity we'd engaged in with people outside of our immediate family since Nate had come home from the hospital. I was nervous about what could happen, but we needed to start somewhere. And Tay's family felt like an extension of our own, so they were the perfect choice.

“Why don't you want to tell anyone? What are you so worried about?” Tay asked me that night, taking a sip of her wine. We were sitting across from each other, next to the glowing fire that burned hot underneath a mantle of evergreen and white twinkly lights. Our husbands were downstairs with the kids, playing a game of Twister and eating gummy worms.

“Protecting Nate. He's suffered so much already. The kids in his old class were crueler than I could have ever imagined. Just because he wasn't acting ‘normal.' And now that we know what we're dealing with, I don't know that it will stop, just because Nate's symptoms have. Mental illness isn't something the world accepts with open arms. The minute everyone knows …
really
knows, well, I'm worried about how they will treat him. If they will accept him, or if they will be malicious, just as they were before. As long as I protect the truth, I can protect my son.”

“But Nate's at a new school now.”

“I know. And it's been wonderful for him. I've never seen him so happy. But he can't stay there forever. Sooner or later we'll need to integrate him back into a regular classroom.”

“Believe me, I absolutely understand the need to protect your children. And I know you have Nate's best interests at heart. But you can't keep the secret forever. If you do, Nate will start to think of it as just that. A secret. He'll think he shouldn't tell anyone either. Which will make him feel like it's a bad thing that he should be embarrassed about. And he shouldn't. Bipolar disorder is just like any other disease that any of us could suddenly be diagnosed with. It isn't anyone's fault, and it's certainly not something to be embarrassed about.”

I took a big sip of my wine and thought about what Tay was saying. The last thing I wanted to do was make Nate feel embarrassed about the hand he'd been dealt. While he would need to come to terms with his disease, and I suspected that would happen in different ways as he grew older, I never, ever wanted him to feel embarrassed by it. Or, for one split second, think that I was.

“Ashley, you're his
mother
. If you're not the one standing by his side and acting one hundred percent committed to Nate and all that he's been dealt, who will? He's going to feed off your actions. If you don't tell anyone, he won't either. And over time he'll think that it's something he shouldn't talk about. I don't know what the future holds, or if Nate will suffer because some ignorant idiot doesn't fully understand mental illness, but you'll deal with that when it comes.”

“I don't know …” I responded, taking another sip of wine. “I'm not sure he's ready for that.”

“Just think about it. You don't need to do anything tomorrow, but soon the day will come. I think you should let Nate be proud of who he is. Mental illness and all. Good or bad, it's a part of him. And none of us should ever be ashamed of anything that is a part of us.”

“You're right about that,” I answered simply.

“Of course I'm right. As always,” Tay said, laughing. She helped herself to the bottle of wine sitting in front of us, filling my glass first and then her own.

“Mommy?” A little voice behind me asked. “Can I go to my room for a bit?”

I turned to see Nate standing behind us. He looked like he was near tears. “Of course, honey. Is everything okay?”

Nate shook his head and ran up the stairs. I glanced at Tay, hoping he hadn't heard what we'd been talking about, and went up the stairs after him. He had crawled in bed and buried himself underneath his duvet and pillow.

“Nate?” I asked, peaking underneath his covers. “Everything okay?”

When he didn't respond, I crawled in with him and gave him a hug. I decided to wait until he was ready to talk to me and tell me what was on his mind. It was the first time since being in the hospital that he'd had a sudden mood shift, and I didn't want to push him.

After about five minutes, he said to me in a very quiet voice, “Mommy? What is bipoly disease?”

“Bipoly?” I asked. My heart screeched to a standstill. Pete and I still hadn't fully told Nate about his diagnosis. We felt he was too young. But he'd clearly heard something.

“Yeah. What you and Auntie Tay were talking about. I came up for some more hot chocolate and I heard you tell her that I have a disease. Bipoly disease. Am I going to die?”

“Oh sweetie, no!” I sat up and pulled Nate into my lap. His moment of truth was about to find him, whether I liked it or not.

“Then what's wrong with me? Everyone keeps pretending like everything is okay. But it isn't! I know it isn't. You don't stay in the hospital if everything's okay. Why can't you just tell me?” Nate looked up with eyes as round as saucers, full with tears.

I took a deep breath and knew what I had to do. I began the story, right from the very beginning. Right from the very first night Nate had left the house.

I left no details out. Dr. Aldridge had told me that Nate didn't remember the vast majority of the last two months. And he deserved to know. It was about him, after all, and the fate he'd been given. There was no reason to hide it. And absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.

“So that's why I needed to start taking all of that medication? It's why I stayed in the hospital for so long?” Nate's memories had begun to kick in at around the point in my story when he'd come home. When the medication had started to work. Before that, memories were pretty foggy for him. Like a dream, he explained.

“Yes. And it's the medication that has made you better. And a whole bunch of other things, alongside it.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like all of your conversations with Dr. Aldridge. And the art lessons you had with Payton. And your music lessons at Henry Lewis.” I pulled my son in and kissed the top of his head. “A whole bunch of people have worked very hard to make you better. And you are doing so great! I'm very proud of you. You are making friends at your new school, and the teachers and nurses say you are doing so well and learning lots of new things.”

“I know. I really am.” Nate's response was confident and bold, and he smiled when he'd said it.

“Yes, you really are,” I agreed. Behind me, I heard Pete quietly walk into the room. He sat on the bed. I suspected Tay had gone to get him so that he could join my conversation with our son, and she was probably downstairs entertaining Grace to keep her distracted.

“So now I have bipoly disease? And I have to keep taking my medication and going to my new school to stay better?”

“Bipolar disorder,” I corrected. Beside me, I could feel Pete become rigid, still uncertain about whether telling Nate was the way to go. But I was tired of keeping everything a secret. I didn't want to give in to the disease we'd all been handed.

So I continued. “Yes, honey, we suspect you have something called bipolar disorder. We don't know for sure yet, but Dr. Aldridge is pretty sure that's what's going on.”

“When will we know?”

“Well, right now she's diagnosed you with something called Psychosis NOS. It basically means that we know you need to keep working with Dr. Aldridge, and that you need to stay on your new medication, but that we won't know for sure until Dr. Aldridge can provide her final answer in about six months. She wants to monitor you until then, just in case we find out other things or something different happens.”

“Six months? How long is that?” Nate asked.

“Probably by next summer,” Pete said.

“Whoa. That's a long time from now!” Nate exclaimed. “Does it mean I'll get to stay at my new school until then? Do I get to stay with Adam?”

I nodded. Despite learning everything I could tell him about his disorder, he was fine. There was no embarrassment. No stigma. No shame.

In that moment, something clicked, and I decided to bridge a very big gap between two worlds that suddenly seemed way too far away. “There's one other thing, buddy. One last thing you should know. It's about your grandpa.”

“Grandpa?” Nate asked excitedly. It was the first time in three years that I'd mentioned my father to Nate.

“Yes. Grandpa. The biggest reason we think you have bipolar disorder is because your grandpa also has it. And it's genetic, which is a fancy word for something that runs in our family.”

“Really? I'm the same as Grandpa?” Nate asked excitedly. I felt a sharp pang rip through my heart. My son missed his grandfather so much that he was overjoyed to hear about the disorder that bound them together, even through their years of separation.

“Yes, sweetie. We think you have the same disorder as Grandpa.”

“Can I … can I talk to him about it?” Nate asked.

“I don't know, hon,” I replied honestly. “Maybe we'll see if we can get together with him soon. But I don't know for sure that it will happen. We'll have to ask him first.”

Beside me, I sensed that Pete was smiling. He pulled Nate and me in for a group hug and it was in that giant squeeze that I started to really feel like everything might be okay.