Shadowed Soul (21 page)

“I hope you understand, Thomas?” implored Steve.  “I shouldn't have done it.  In fact if anyone knew that I had, I could lose my job.  But I couldn't just cut you free without any support.  I'm a human being, not a machine.  I wish that I hadn't had to fire you, Thomas, because that is not what I wanted.  You were an excellent employee and team player.  And when you're well enough then I will do whatever I can to get you your job back, if that’s what you want. I just know that you can’t get better all alone.  While I can’t guarantee that this counselor will do you any good, I do know that my wife has found it to be positive.  Caroline’s not fully better but I think she copes more than she did in the past.  It’s given her tools to help herself.”

I stood and held out my hand to Steve.  There was so much I wanted to say to him, so much for which I wanted to thank him.  But all I could do was extend my hand:  A silent gesture between two human beings.  Steve stood up to shake.  We parted allies.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Much to Bailey's delight I decided to walk home.  Steve had made me feel less self-conscious about getting help.  I had also appreciated his reassurance about my old job.  At the time I did not know if I wanted to go back.  Moving forward was the only option.  Striding into excellent spring weather felt great, and I was in as good a mental place so the nine miles were a breeze.  Too often on the bus my crushing paranoia had me trapped in a can with invasive strangers.  Open air and exercise left me topped up with endorphins by the time Bailey and I reached the apartment.

As we walked I was conscious of Bailey's desire to stop and sniff each hydrant and allowed him to exercise his inalienable rights as a dog.  After 15 minutes of walking I felt increasingly better, endorphins and the knowledge of a new friendship buoyed my spirits.  Invigorated, my mind ambled through the many options available to me. To die alone and miserable was one option I ruled out.  While I might never fully be rid of the Shadowed Soul I might find a way to control his rampages.  Another option was to select a counselor.  Caroline Mitchell’s might work for me.  But surely there were others.  Mental health was a huge industry; this fact comforted me.  I was not alone.  But, I did not want to start seeing a counselor and have unrealistic opinions based on something that they had done for someone with a different condition, with different problems and with different needs. While there are certain constants that run in those who suffer debilitating depression, there are often very different variables and the last thing I wanted was to get my hopes up based on the effect that a counselor had had on someone who had very different issues at the root of his or her depression.  The other issue was that I had no clinical confirmation from a medical doctor that I was bi-polar, just that I was prone to depression, and maybe Caroline Mitchell’s counselor specialized.

I enjoyed the feeling of freedom walking through the city especially with Bailey by my side.  Over the last three months I had cemented the opinion that this dog was the only soul who could keep me anchored.  I loved him from the moment we met; it was impossible not to, he had such a warm nature. He was gentle and smart; his very presence was therapeutic in ways that I had not quite appreciated until he had gone and then come back. Since he had been with me in the apartment I had not shaken off the Shadowed Soul but its choking influence seemed considerably less oppressive.  Just seeing Bailey asleep on the floor had a calming effect on me and stroking his fur as he slept was a soporific. I found that I was exercising much more now that Bailey was living with me because he needed to walk.  And I found that I was eating better because I had to go shopping for his food and that meant I was buying fresh food for myself. In taking care of Bailey he was essentially taking care of me.  Our co-dependence was symbiotic, as well, a mutually beneficial friendship that provided me with hope for stability in my life.

Keeping Bailey also meant that I saw Beth more regularly.  No matter how terrified I was in the moments leading up to meeting her again, I always felt more relaxed after I had seen her.  She still loved me. I guess the biggest problem I had was with the baby. Based on my childhood experience, I assumed that men, even those without my condition, would be challenged by a new baby.  Perhaps men were always going to be jealous of another person stealing attention away from them, even a baby.  However, my feelings of disassociation seemed to be much more problematic. It was as though I had no feelings for my son whatsoever, apart from resenting his constant presence in my wife‘s life. Shamefully, I disliked that she brought him with her every time we met because the very sight of him reinforced my general disdain for the competition. I knew that this was selfish and I hoped that the counselor would be able to address this issue.  I knew I needed help understanding how to proceed with our lives.  I wanted to be a good father; I wanted to be a strong and positive presence in my child's upbringing.  But I felt unable to formulate a positive path by which I myself could do that.  But as I was resenting my son I would not be able to deal with him in a proactive manner.  Beth loved him immeasurably but that was not balanced, not for me and not for our boy.

Bailey and I walked and walked without fear in my heart at this time, the streets were busy but people had their own lives to worry about and nobody cared about me and that was fine because these people had no impact on my life and I had no bearing on theirs. That level of global anonymity brought me great comfort.  It helped me to know that whatever was happening in my life was my own issue and although it also affected a small number of people around me there really was no need for my continued paranoia. I was entirely inconsequential to almost everyone in the world and that was a safe place to be. I simply had to deal with my own issues without caring too much about what anyone thought of me. In passing, I glanced at the faces of some of the people in the street and perceived an inherent misery that seemed to permeate humanity.  Only a few people seemed happy and even the faces at rest seemed to echo sadness and hardship.  Knowing this gave me a sense of belonging to a largely disinterested species and even though that should have felt empty it actually increased my confidence in my ability to survive.  This strange sense of camaraderie among the afflicted was freeing in that I was one of a few who recognized it was fixable.  My illness was very real and even though people could not see that it was as debilitating as any physical ailment at least I had a reason for my general unhappiness.  My reason was not trivial; it was immediate and destructive.  I hoped I could finally exorcise this darkness from my mind and find a degree of happiness in beating a merciless entity. Maybe one day I could be as happy with a simple life as Bailey.

I was surprised when I noticed we had been walking for almost two hours.  Time was so mercurial to me that had I not seen a clock in a shop window, I would have struggled to guess the duration of our journey.  My mind was so packed with fears and hopes that reality was consumed at an alarming rate.  I so wanted to find equilibrium, happiness and contentment; life was painfully finite it seemed only fair that I should be given a chance to experience joy. I must find a counselor.  It was my only option, I told myself as I turned the corner and what met me was the street from my recurring nightmare. 

Panic swept my brain.  I did not understand why this street from my nightmare held such of a fascination for me.  Until recently I had walked this very street many times without really taking any notice of it.  But with increasing frequency the street appeared in my recurring nightmare with alarming intensity.  Bailey was utterly unconcerned by this place; his indifference calmed my nerves.  In the past Bailey occasionally growled softly at nothing, his eyes watching the passage of some invisible force.  Surely Bailey had witnessed passing ghosts that walk this world, disembodied spirits without a goal who could only drift through eternity, their plaintive cries heard only by dogs.  In many ways that was how I felt:  The ghost of the man I should have been.  A mere reflection of a human being, I felt an affinity with these imagined specters.  I knew what their pointless existence must be like and fully understood their bitter pain.  Were these ghosts nothing more than echoes of people who had lived and suffered from their own Shadowed Souls? Were these the ones who had gone through life never seeking any assistance? Perhaps their misery had been so strong they had not fully been able to break free from it even after death?  These were the things that concerned me, these were the fears that consumed me and these were the fates I was desperate to avoid.

And so I gazed along the street that haunted my dreams seeking a reason for its prevalence in my subconscious but nothing came.  As I continued along the street remained anonymous and perfectly real with no underlying current of fear or hatred.  The buildings and cars that lined the street were nondescript objects that mirrored cars and buildings all over the city.  Faded doors of all colors, chipped and dirty, disinvited entry to once-elegant brownstones.  The few people I passed simply walked on and took no notice of me.  The street was comfortingly average and by the time I walked all the way to the end all my fears vanished.

Within half an hour I was warm again in my apartment with Bailey, talking with Beth on the telephone.

“You okay?” asked Beth.  From the moment she picked up she thought something was wrong and I tried to quell her anxiety.

“Hey, you, don't worry,” I assured.  “There is absolutely nothing wrong.  I just wanted to tell you that for sure this time I'm going to find a counselor.  I want to find someone on my own before I start taking recommendations. If I can’t find someone I will call Steve’s but I just wanted you to know that I do agree it's time for things to improve and we cannot do that without professional help.”

The happiness in Beth’s reply delighted me and I briefly wondered why I had not done this sooner.  We talked for another hour.  The conversation danced between trivial life and our plans for the future.  It was a good feeling talking to my wife like a normal human being and I felt a pang of melancholy that we were not having this conversation face-to-face. After I told her I loved her I searched the internet for counselors located half way between our two addresses.  After two hours I had drawn up a list and I would use this as a basis to research my options.  As a reward for my work, I visited the same old sites I had visited for the past six months.  Pornography had been such a constant feature of this apartment I had become desensitized.  No longer did I feel disgust or anger at myself.  The images also delivered no sense of arousal.  I felt nothing and I imagined myself to be as dead-eyed as many of the bound and gagged models on the sites.  Bailey gave me a reason to break the shackles of my cycle when he needed to be fed or walked.  It did feel as though something had changed, what exactly remained a mystery.  Nevertheless, I would be back online before the evening was through.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The street was quiet as always as I headed to my destination.  In my recurring dream I had a mission, a clear idea of where I was going and what I to do when I got there. There was absolutely no mystery about the street in my dreams and was no mistaking the fury that was building up in my heart as I drew closer to my final destination. I was aware that I was dreaming and my conscious memory scraped at my subconscious enough to let me know that this was not real.  But the depressing thing was that the anger that coursed through my system was palpable. So I was aware of the differences between my nocturnal journey and others that I had previously taken, for instance the Christmas decorations that often festooned the street were no longer visible and instead of the roasting sun that often accompanied the stream there was a chilly mist surrounding me.  But my mission was clear and the weight in my coat pocket was terrifying and comforting. Although I knew what this was I had never previously found the courage to dig my hand into my pocket because I did not want to finally confirm the inevitable.  However tonight the feeling of grim determination felt so unavoidable I believed this would be the occasion when I finally put my hand around the metal object I carried.

The nightmare did concern me because in reality I never felt as much hatred aimed at anyone focal point as I did within these dreams. And although I knew where I was going I did not know who I was going to see.  My dream had never gotten that far but I had always made it further along the street with each progressive visit.  As a child, I had discovered how to will myself awake and honed the skill.  If a nightmare became too intense, I could escape.  However, this dream, even though it provided me with a feeling of lonely fear, was not something I had ever really wanted to leave.  Part of me was desperate to see this to the end to find out who I was striding to meet, and to conclude this nightmare once and for all.

I turned the corner and saw ahead of me a red door.   It had been built into an old sandstone townhouse and had seen better days.  The paint flaked and the wood itself seemed to be rotting away, but it was the only thing that I could see clearly as I gazed down this dead-end street.  The house itself exuded a sinister vibe.  The windows were dark yet I saw the shape of a human looking down at me from a window above the faded red door. Seeing this form filled me with even more fury and all I wanted to do was bust open the door to use the object in my pocket on the person looking down on me.

“You’re a useless, sniveling, little piss monkey,” called a voice ahead of me. “What do you think is going to happen, Thomas? Do you think you'll beat me?  You'll never find the answers you're looking for.  I will always beat you.”