Laura's Light (10 page)

“Mum, you doing okay?” Mitchell whispered into her ear.

“Fine, I’m fine,” was all she could manage in reply as she sat, stunned into silence under the onslaught of emotions coursing through her body.

Chapter Fourteen

Trevor felt sick with nerves. It was too late for doubts now—the room was packed and he had a truckload of items for his silent auction. Everything appeared to be going well, but the moment Laura had walked into the room, Trevor had gone to pieces.

He had not seen her for weeks, had kept busy, occupied with organising the night. He’d tried not to think in too much depth about any of the ramifications of his big announcement. Not that he particularly cared what the general public thought or said—he was prepared for some negativity. It was what Laura Harris would think that had him in knots, had his stomach cramping so badly he wasn’t sure he could keep standing.

When Laura had floated into the room, Trevor’s world had lit up as if someone had hit the switch on a powerful spotlight. She looked breathtaking. Rookie had really come through for him, had managed to get his mother here.

That conversation with Rookie last week had been a touch-and-go thing. At first Rookie had been furious with him, protective of his mother just as Trevor had expected him to be. What had shocked Trevor had been Rookie’s understanding, his complete forgiveness and unyielding support after Trevor had explained how he felt, what he thought had happened between Laura and him, and how much he wanted another chance with the boy’s beautiful mother. Rookie had understood.

Mitchell ‘Rookie’ Harris was mature beyond his years. And Trevor had been enormously relieved when Rookie had confided that Laura was also miserable. Rookie had told Trevor that he believed his mum ‘had it bad for him’.
But he’d added that if Trevor ever hurt her again—intentionally—he would bury him in the ground so deeply that no one would ever find him. Trevor had believed the threat—the young man had sounded very serious. Trevor hadn’t thought that Rookie had it in him to be threatening but hadn’t doubted him for a second.

“Everything is good to go, Mr Hughes.” A young, male voice drew him from his thoughts.

“Thanks, Riley. You have been an enormous help. Why don’t you go take your seat and I’ll get this show on the road? And hey, kid—call me Trevor or Trev. You make me feel old.”

Trevor watched Riley bounce away. The kid was amazing—there was always a smile on his face and a skip in his step. Now there was a kid who’d had it rough, losing both parents while still so young. Thankfully, his sister and Brodie had his back.
And mine too
, he added to his thoughts quickly. “Okay, Trevor, here goes nothing.”

Trevor strode to the stage, his gait loose-limbed. He wanted to portray strength and confidence even if he was shaking in his boots. He took hold of the microphone, took a settling breath, then changed his life forever.

“For those of you that don’t know me—and maybe there are a few of you out there who have not met me—my name is Trevor Hughes.” Trevor paused to let the room settle.

“I’d like to welcome you and sincerely thank you all for being here with me tonight. Tonight is an important moment for me. We are here to bring aid to a cause that is of personal significance to me. Tonight we are here not only to raise much-needed funds, but also to bring light to a subject that most people fear. A subject most are reluctant to speak of, or even acknowledge.”

Trevor steadied his resolve and staring straight ahead forged on.

“Tonight is all about the issue of mental illness and how it affects those who are suffering from it. My hope is that by the end of tonight, depression will become less of a taboo subject. That the general population not affected by this debilitating disease will become more accepting of those of us who are struggling to cope. You see, I am well qualified to speak on this subject because I have suffered from depression for most of my life.”

Trevor heard the murmurs from the crowd, knew that the gasps of shock from those seated in front of him were for different reasons. His friends would be surprised that he had never confided in them. His peers and the other members of the press would be thinking of the best headlines to sensationalise his story, and the others were the people he needed to convince that depression was not just being sad, something to just get over. He needed to show these people that depression was an illness. And, as Brodie had said, people didn’t turn away from or judge diabetics, just as they shouldn’t turn away from or judge people suffering from mental illness.

“When I was a teenager, I began to question my life. I didn’t feel that anything I did was good enough. Nothing made me happy. My mates went on and on about how lucky I was, how great it must be to be so good at playing rugby league and to have all the girls after me. But for me it was just another thing to obsess about. What would happen if I didn’t play well, if the team didn’t win, if I let everyone down? At the time I didn’t realise that this wasn’t normal. There were days when just leaving my room was a struggle.

“I was so full of fear, so unhappy. I couldn’t understand why people wanted to live my life. How everyone around me could be so happy, contented, carefree. I tried to talk about it but was told to cheer up, be happy. It wasn’t that easy. This state of misery and fear carried on into my professional playing career. Before every game, I would be so afraid of not living up to other people’s expectations of me that I would be physically sick.

“I was so sure I wasn’t good enough. Every blemish, every mistake I made would haunt me, have me hiding away from friends and colleagues, deep in despair. I was sure that I was a fake and everything in my life was about to come crashing down. I can remember a sense of relief when I suffered my career-ending injury that at least I wouldn’t have to face the gut-wrenching fear that had become part of my usual pre-game routine. This relief was short-lived, though, as I realised that without rugby league I had nothing.”

Trevor tried not to think about the nearly silent group of people listening to him air his dirty laundry, and he focused on the memory of those dark days as he continued.

“The pain of my knee injury was nowhere near as bad as the pain in my mind, in my soul. I was worthless. It is hard to put into words my mindset at the time, but hopelessness, having no hope, figured prominently. All the fears that had consumed me over the last few years were becoming real. I had let everyone down by being injured. The team were short on players, my family and friends didn’t get to go to the games, didn’t get the good seats. I had nothing to look forward to, not that I could remember ever looking forward to anything in my life anyway. My thoughts went dark, desperate.

“I know I keep using that word—‘dark’—but for me it was like some clichéd, thunderous dark cloud hovered over my life. There was no light. I didn’t see a reason to be part of a world that I could not contribute to, that I was unworthy of. And I felt unworthy—the darker my thoughts became, the more
desperate
I became. Sadness and misery consumed every breath I took, every minute of every day. I had convinced myself that there was only one way out, one way to make the pain go away, and I was ready to take that final step when a young Jets player intervened.”

Trevor paused and looked to where Brodie was seated. He didn’t think the man would be concerned about being named publicly, but Trevor just wanted to be sure. Of course, he needn’t have worried. Brodie James was smiling back at him, nodding in a gesture of support as always.

So Trevor continued, “I hardly knew Brodie James—he hadn’t been at the Jets long, and I wasn’t the most sociable bloke around—but his kindness literally saved my life. He brought a glimmer of light, of hope. How Brodie knew what was wrong, I don’t know, but he helped me reach out to the right professionals, who in turn explained that what I was feeling was due to an illness. That it wasn’t normal for people to be so fearful, so desperate, so despairing of life. The doctors explained that something in my brain had short-circuited, and more importantly that I could be helped. Through counselling and medication and with Brodie James’ help, I managed to get past that dark time in my life. But for most people suffering depression and anxiety it is not an easy road, and being completely cured is unlikely. This is an illness that sufferers learn to live with, to manage.

“As you all know, I have moved on from my rugby league-playing days, I have been fortunate enough to be given a chance at a new career. A career I love. A career that I do find happiness in. A reason to get up every morning.”

But the most important part of Trevor’s monologue was about to come, when he spoke of his inability to connect in a relationship for the fear of a partner seeing his darker side.

“And as well as a new career, I have made some remarkable friendships. People that I can count on, people I trust and respect. For me to enjoy this—being around friends—is a new feeling. The only thing that I haven’t been able to do is let a special someone into my life. Letting a woman get close to me still causes me fear. Is there someone out there that can cope with my darkness? Should I inflict that side of me on anyone permanently? Mates are one thing, but I can leave them at the end of the day, retire to my solitary place and sort through my emotions at my own pace. Retreat from the world if need be.

“I didn’t feel I had the strength to share life’s journey with anyone on a permanent basis, share the normal ups and downs. I believed that I didn’t have the strength in me to help a partner who might need my emotional support. It was hard enough dealing with my own problems. So I kept an emotional distance to women I dated. Retained an emotional detachment. Kept anyone looking for a relationship with me at arm’s length and only showed part of my personality, hiding the rest away.”

Trevor was shaking, his chest tight, but he was determined to face this last fear. He hoped Laura was listening, wanting her—above all others—to understand why he had reacted so negatively to her words. He could not look at her for worry over what he might see in her eyes. But he would face her later. That was the promise he had made himself.

“But recently, that all changed. I met someone that has made me want to take that risk—someone full of light, of sunshine and happiness. I felt an instant connection to this remarkable, beautiful woman, really wanted to give it a shot at something permanent, something real and honest, but once again I let fear pull me away. Let fear stop me from taking control of my own life, of hoping for happiness. I told myself she deserved better, that I had no right to sully her bright light with my darkness, that I was unworthy of someone so wonderful, so special. And once again, my friendship with Brodie James helped me see the light.”

Trevor took a steadying breath deep into his lungs. Took a minute to calm his riotous emotions, and took the even braver—or perhaps masochistic—opportunity to focus his sights on Laura. She was sitting ramrod straight, clasping her napkin tightly, and Trevor could see the train of tears cascading down her cheeks. He prayed that he was not too late in his explanation. His public apology.
This is it, buddy, your closing argument. Make it good
. The little voice in his head encouraged him on, for a change.

“This function tonight is my way of finally facing up to all of my fears. No more hiding. By speaking so openly and honestly with you all here tonight, and in front of the members of the press in attendance, about my struggles with depression, I’m hoping I can better educate those who may not understand this crippling mental illness. I also hope that the beautiful woman I pushed away might now understand me a little better, believe that I didn’t mean to cause her any pain, that I really thought at the time I was doing the right thing by protecting her from my illness. And perhaps she might even forgive me. Might give me a second chance to prove to her how much she means to me.”

Trevor spoke further of his hopes that by making this very public announcement—or confession, of sorts—that he would be able to help others. Others who might feel the same way he had. He had let fear rule his life for too long, had been ashamed to speak up and ask for help. Felt shame at not being man enough to cope with life. But there was no shame in admitting you were not perfect, or admitting you had fears or worries. It was not shameful to be sad, depressed. What
was
shameful, he went on to say, was ignoring that call from someone who needed help.

Trevor explained there was a support network out there, albeit struggling financially to provide the services needed. It was up to people like him, in the public arena, to speak out, to connect with others and to bring help to these groups and organise the financial aid they so desperately needed. And most importantly, to connect with anyone who felt they were alone. To help, or to carry out an act of kindness that could ultimately save someone, just as he had been saved.

Trevor stepped away from the microphone, his mouth dry from speaking for so long. He took a deep breath, took stock of how he was holding up, and realised that he felt good—lighter if that was at all possible. Then he heard the applause and as he looked out to the tables full of people who had sat through his speech, Trevor was moved beyond words. Not a single person that he could see was still seated—everyone was standing and clapping. Trevor felt acceptance flood the room.

He had made a difference. All his struggles, his personal fight with the black dog of depression had led him to this moment, this point where he could make a stand.

Chapter Fifteen

It all became clear to Laura, as the tears rolled down her cheeks at the words Trevor had spoken. The fight he had been battling. She now understood that what she had seen in Trevor that morning, that look he had given her, was due to his insecurities. She now understood what he had meant by ‘baggage’ and ‘demons’. The words he’d spoken of disappointing those around him had just been a side-effect of the depression he fought. He was a good man, a man with a big heart, and brave.
God
, Laura thought,
he’s brave beyond measure to put himself out in the spotlight as he has done.