Shadowed Soul (3 page)

“Fall, Thomas.  Just let go!” squealed the demon Shadowed Soul relentlessly.

Yet I maintained, wave after damning wave, and steered a steady course toward fatherhood.

Amongst the machines, dedicated professionals raced to keeping my wife and son alive.  Useless, I sat and observed the well-orchestrated dance.  They had delivered thousands of babies this way; of course Beth and our son would survive.  They had to.  It was odd knowing the gender of my child; we had diligently avoided finding out so we could enjoy the surprise.  Panic sparked and flared through my heart as more orderlies arrived.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“We’re going to usher your family to the operating room now,” said a nurse sweetly.  Swirls like oil in water blurred my vision; I fought back tears.  I would not have a panic attack, not here, not now.  This was not about me any longer.  This was about Beth and our son.  Sniveling and trembling like a coward had no place here.  Somehow I was blessed with an ability to remain calm under a high degree of pressure, and yet the smallest thing could send me spiraling into panic and depression.  A few years previously I had witnessed a friend fall from a ladder.  He had hit the ground at a bad angle.  The one cog within me that allowed me to function calmly said call 911.  Following the medic’s instructions over the phone, I had been credited with saving my friend’s back and mobility. If I could do that for a friend then I could let that cool, collected part of me lead my family. 

A nurse handed me a mask, gown and hat and returned to her tasks.  I fumbled ineptly.

“Let me help you?” offered another nurse.  I nodded, unable speak, as she suited me up.  With each step toward to the operating room my adrenalin escalated.  The weird thing was that I knew my fear was an appropriate reaction; even a man without my omnipresent demon would be feeling powerless.  Such relief I had felt when I finally learned that negative emotions were not by themselves wrong, but a natural part of life.  My ability to differentiate between what was
normal
and what was caused by my condition had often eluded me.  Not now though, my wife and child relied on my strength.

“Get the hell up and be there for them!” I murmured to myself, as I drew my shoulders back and down, and straightened my spine.

In the operating room, my wife’s insides glistened under blinding lights.  Although Beth was now more vulnerable than ever I found myself curiously detached.  Just three months earlier I had been thrown into a downward spiral of panic and self-loathing by a simple nose bleed Beth had had.

The surgery had to be done to save them both, it was a logical act and as such, I merely saw the clinical reasoning behind the gaping incision.  Beth’s comfort was tantamount. I allowed myself to be guided past the operating curtain to a chair next to Beth’s head.  I held Beth’s hand in my own and massaged it gently.

“Hey you,” I smiled reassuringly and she turned her head slightly to give me a fading smile.  The morphine had kicked in.  I wanted to get in beside her and hold her.  “It’s going to be fine.  You know that, don’t you?”

“I love you, Thomas.”  Beth’s opiate giggle faded as she closed her eyes.

“Let’s face it,” I said.  “If I’m saying it, then it must be true?  I’m the guy who can’t cope if we run out of milk remember?’

“You’re the guy, who loves his
Captain Crunch
, baby,” slurred Beth.  “
Got milk
!”  I smiled at how she always saw my short-comings as amusements.  She gave me strength to believe in myself.

“I love you, Beth. It’s going to be okay!  I promise!”

It had to be okay.  Beth’s love defined the only escape hatch from my shadowed captor whose sport it was to stew me in the dankest moods.  If Beth left this world, I would never function again.  An eternity of misery awaited me if surgery failed.

Although I had dreamed of a wife like Beth, I had never truly believed I would meet a woman who could fill my life with hope.  Beth fulfilled me beyond my dreams.  We had met under fateful circumstances.  I had never been comfortable around women nor people in general. I lacked confidence.  My childhood was largely isolated, probably compounding my depressive condition.  I had a few friends, even friends who were reasonably close who had steered me in the right direction, but I had never dared to venture a close romantic relationship.  Yet, I refused to accept that my life would be a pointless journey alone.  And so, I had done what so many other lonely souls do in the modern world:  Online dating.

Euphoria initially propelled me through my workdays until I could get back to check my dating account.  This had to be the place I would meet my soul mate, a partner to navigate the darker waters of life and share the rare, smooth voyage.  Disenchantment, however, soon engulfed me.  The process felt hollow as many of the women I contacted did not care to try to understand me.  The service, I reasoned, was an unnecessary expense and emotionally bruising.  I could not find someone to
complete
me on a site that was specifically designed for lonely people then it would continue to elude me.  As yet, I was unaware I had to complete myself first before I could experience true intimacy.  But that was a revelation that would find me later in my life. 

So, the day I logged on with the sole intention of closing my profile, a saucy message from a woman was balm to my hobbled ego.  She wanted me. 

“Hot photo, Mister,” read her message.  “Call me!”  From that moment, hope sprang eternal.  Maybe she would be the one?  Perhaps this time it was meant to be?

I renewed my membership for a month and wrote back to her.

After ping-ponging emails and a brief lunch meeting, I realized I felt no chemistry between us.  She was good looking, so I suspended judgment, hoping a feeling might emerge.  She must have sensed my indifference, as her flirtatious messages soon became taciturn replies.  Her initial
hotness
, as she called it herself, seemed like an act she had learned watching the numerous sitcoms she liked to talk about.  There was no point.  Annoyed by her disrespectful texts, in turn, the dating site irritated me, as well.  I was about to delete my account when Beth’s photograph seemed to pop from the screen.  In that moment, in my mind, I thanked the churlish woman for having stalled me long enough to encounter a true angel.  A golden energy flickered, illuminating my brain and heart at the same time.  This woman, this gorgeous woman on the website might actually be the one.  I tried to calm my emotions.  It was, after all, one photograph on a website.  I knew nothing about her at all.  Insecurities flooded in.

If I wrote to her then she wouldn’t write back, or if she did then it would be disappointingly dull.  That’s how these things seemed to work for me.  Studying Beth’s profile for a long time, I clicked on
contact
and began to type.

In surgery, I gazed at my wife, sweat-soaked and drawn, and I could not imagine anyone so beautiful anywhere in the world.  I don’t know how long the surgery had been underway, it could have been moments or it could have been years.  It was a bubble in time. Nothing mattered apart from my wife and my son.  As I sat next to her I knew that whatever happened next my life would never be the same.  Beth’s eyes fluttered awake as the morphine drip decreased. 

“Thomas?” whispered Beth, her voice dry.

“Right here,” I assured her, a cup of water at the ready.  Her head turned weakly toward my voice.

That moment between us, that shared glance was given punctuation by a sound that forever changed the world:  The sound of a crying baby, a boy that would be called Jonathan, a boy that would be loved and cherished beyond all others by Beth and me.  It was 9:46 p.m. when my son became one with the world and with us.

CHAPTER THREE

Without Beth, our small apartment felt enormous.  Exhausted, I closed the door behind me.  Much as I was ashamed to admit it, I was relieved to be away from the hospital. 

“Go home and rest,” the doctor had urged me.  Initially, I resisted; I needed to be present to protect my family. 

“Your wife and child need to rest, too,” coaxed a nurse.  “The hospital is the best place for them right now.  We’ve got it covered.”

“Yes, you seem to have done this before,” I relented good-humoredly.  Despite my fatigue, my paranoid Shadowed Soul kept taunting me with fears of their demise.  What if the baby gets stolen?  What if Beth still bleeds to death?

As I closed the door to our apartment, rapid thumping drew me further inside and a clatter of excitement followed.  Forgetting the Shadowed Soul, my focus shifted happily to our black Labrador who ran to greet me in the hall.  Bailey’s ebullience soothed me, and I knelt to ruffle his glossy, black fur as he licked at my face.

“Hey, Bailey!” I hollered.  He regarded me lovingly, his proud face seeming to grin back at me. “Have you been a good dog?  You must be hungry.”  I headed for the dog food bowl but it was full; a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Bailey’s been an absolute gentleman!”  Smiling broadly, my energetic mother-in-law approached from where she had been napping on the couch.

“Dorothy!  Hello!” I exclaimed.  Dorothy opened her arms to embrace me. “Congratulations, Dorothy, you’re a grandmother!”

“I’m so happy, Thomas, and so proud of all three of you!”  In Dorothy’s motherly embrace, my fears slid away.  She drew away, gently gripping my shoulders. “So, tell me all about him!  Is he handsome or he takes after you?”  I laughed. 

“Both,” I replied proudly.  “Jonathan’s a beautiful baby and he looks like me.  I don’t know how that works.  Magic?”  I could never be offended by this woman as she had been more of a mother to me than my own.  Her esteem of me was built from pure affection.

“I’m so looking forward to meeting him, Thomas,” said Dorothy, her eyes welling. “Me?  A grandmother?”

“He’s a lucky, lucky boy,” I confirmed, squeezing her shoulder.  She smiled, wiping away her jubilant tears.

“Want breakfast?” she asked, her voice regaining its firmness as she reached for the fridge handle.  “Scramblers on toast?”

“I’m fine, Dorothy.  Listen, why don’t I call you a cab and you can go home and get some rest?  They say we can’t visit until late this afternoon.”  It was barely 6:00 a.m.

“I won’t argue, Thomas,” said Dorothy appreciatively. 

As we waited for the cab, Bailey assumed his customary position against my leg, leaning into it so much that I had to brace myself against his heft.

“Will you look at this dog!”  I exclaimed, laughing as I played with the soft fur on Bailey’s broad head.

“Don’t move, Thomas, or Bailey will surely tip right over,” remarked Dorothy, with a cute smile that resembled Beth. 

Awaiting the cab, Dorothy and I made comfortable small talk.  So overwhelmed by the fact that our personal orbits now included a vibrant new life, we focused on the mundane to avoid losing composure again in tears of joy.

I should have just gone straight to bed after Dorothy left, but instead I made tea.  Coffee would be insanity.  Bailey sat, ears swiveling at the slightest sound of a food wrapper, his pig pink tongue probing the air for a hint of a treat.

“Here you go, Bailey,” I said, holding out a dog biscuit in the palm of my hand.  Bailey stood, his powerful leg muscles rippling as he padded over.  His gentle mouth took the biscuit and I stroked his neck.  As he chomped, I recalled fondly how Bailey had come into my life, adding joy to bliss.

“Are you Beth?  I’m Thomas.”  I had felt stupid.  She had already shared many photos of herself with me on the match site, of course she was Beth.  Her face met mine with a huge smile.  Her warmth and looks together triggered my heart to race.  I felt like a teenager.

“Hello, Thomas,” said Beth, standing to shake my hand. “It’s really nice to meet you finally.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too.  You’re even prettier live!  I mean, your photos are great, but they don’t do you justice.”

“Thank you,” said Beth modestly.  Her look of embarrassment fanned the ember in my heart to brighten. “Can I introduce you to someone before we sit down?  I’ve brought a friend.  He’s very nice.”  My heart plumbed the pit of my stomach.  She wants me to meet some guy?!

For so long, Beth and I had corresponded:  Great, long letters back and forth.  Not once did she mention another man.  I truly believed we had a connection.  Just to meet her, I had come all the way into the city by myself, something that I found terrifying. 

“Of course, I’d like to meet your friend,” I replied politely, hoping that my voice had not betrayed my disappointment.

“Bailey!” Beth snapped her fingers. 
A woman who snaps her fingers for a guy
, raced through my mind, but my judgment was immediately debunked.  Younger and thinner then, Bailey greeted me with a lick of my hand and immediately sat beside me. 

“They allow dogs in here?” I asked quite innocently.  Our correspondence had not covered everything.  Beth was legally blind, or at least her sight was poor enough to require a guide dog.

“Oh, you’re--”  The realization hit me hard.  So often I struggled to cope with my own life and a blind person would just make it even more difficult, I thought.  Do I walk now? I wondered.  Seemed harsh to just bolt, but at that moment I thought it more compassionate to leave Beth to her own life.  My honor prevailed and I stayed in my chair to ask her more about her.

“Sorry, of course, he’s your guide dog,” I stuttered, and patted Bailey awkwardly.

“Is that a problem?” asked Beth, without accusation or malice.  I shook my head.

“Not at all, I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you, Beth,” I told her, and decided to take my time, and take a chance.  Getting to know Beth had been so exciting already.  Her sharp New England sense of humor made me laugh more than I ever had.

“Imagine 500 women in one spot, Thomas!” exclaimed Beth, as she told me about the women’s college where she earned her undergraduate degree in psychology.  Laughing, I shuddered, as I could only imagine 500 of my own heartless mother, and not the wonderful panoply of curious students who had been Beth’s dearest pals.  “It was like a four-year-long pajama party!”