Unquiet (25 page)

“Now for those who don’t know, Eliot is being released this week!” Traci pumped her fist in the air, and there was a quiet round of cheers and claps from the table.

“What we want to do now is split up into two groups. Mentally interesting peeps with me over here! Spouses and significant others, stay here with Donovan. It’s time for straight talk, no-holds-barred discussion on life, ’kay? Denise, since this is your first day, come over with Brooke to my group. A lot of what I have to say will be beneficial to you at this stage.”

There was murmuring and shuffling as people got up and moved around, Traci leading her group to the conference room next door, and Loren was left at the table with Donovan and the four significant others, two men and two women.

Donovan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. He was a quiet, laid-back man with a surprisingly deep voice.

“Okay, dude,” he rumbled. “This is when shit gets real. This week he gets out, and it’s gonna be on him, and it’s gonna be on you. You got any questions or concerns for us?”

Loren stared back at him, questions swirling in his mind, but all of a sudden he was unable to articulate a single one.

Donovan looked at him with understanding. “I know, man. We could sit here and tell you our stories all day, and it’s not gonna mean shit to you until you go through it yourself. Everybody’s different in how they handle things, and how they cope. What works for me might not work for you, and vice versa.”

Loren nodded. “I guess what I’d like to hear is all of you just giving me one piece of advice that has worked best for you, especially when things get rough.”

Donovan pointed his finger at him with an approving nod. “Yes! Number one, from me: don’t internalize his outbursts or things said in rage. It’s Eliot’s illness talking, and it’s not your fault and most times isn’t even directed at you. I know it’ll be hard, but try not to take it to heart because that will help you get past it when it’s over.”

“But at the same time, Loren, make it clear to him that you expect to be treated with kindness and respect as much as possible.” This came from a petite blond woman named Deidre, married for five years to her husband Josh, who suffered from Bipolar 2. “Don’t let him use his illness as an excuse for poor behavior. It’s okay to put expectations on him, so don’t be afraid to.”

“Yes,” Donovan said. “Traci’s mood swings are hers, and she is the one responsible for managing them. I give her as much compassion and understanding as I can, but she’s the one with that personal responsibility. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Loren said.

“Don’t martyr yourself, man,” Donovan continued. “That doesn’t do Eliot or you any good. Stand up for yourself while also understanding that there are times that he simply can’t help what he does, and it’s better to cut him some slack.”

“Vigilance,” said one of the other men. “Not letting your guard down because things can turn on a fucking dime. Like I mean one minute, everything is fine, and the next she’s running screaming down the street. That usually happens when her sleep gets disrupted, so I’m the one who gets up with the kids in the night, handles any nighttime emergency. You’ll figure out what works best for you, but for almost any bipolar person, sleep disruption is the first step to a downhill slide.”

The discussion went on in that vein for some time, and at last Donovan said, “We’re here for you anytime, man. I’m gonna give you my number, and if you need to talk, need advice, just text me. I can’t promise to get back to you right away depending on what’s going on in my own house, but I
will
get back to you. In other words don’t use me for an emergency, but I can help you deal with the fallout afterwards.”

“Okay,” Loren said quietly. “Thanks. I’m glad I have you guys to talk to.”

They talked for a few more minutes until Traci led the others back into the room. Everybody shook Eliot’s hand or hugged him, and one by one, the members of the group drifted away until it was just him, Eliot, Traci, and Donovan left.

Traci propped her hands on her hips, looking back and forth between Loren and Eliot.

“So…,” she began. “Let’s do this! Loren, you know you can text Donovan if you need him, right? He told you?”

Loren nodded, and she turned to Eliot. “I’d say text me if you need me, but that would be a spectacularly bad idea. If you catch me in an elevated mood, I’m liable to tell you to bring a quart of tequila over, and then when you arrive, fuck your brains out and try to convince you to jump off a building with me.”

Loren’s eyes widened, and she shrugged.

“It’s true. I’m stable, but I’m not someone you can rely on in an emergency, that’s for sure. Eliot, you have your pdoc, your mom, your therapist. If Loren isn’t around and you need help, call anyone other than me, all right?” She then moved in front of Eliot and took his hands in hers. “But I’m in your corner, man. I’m pulling for you every step of the way. Never, ever doubt that.”

Eliot smiled, and they hugged. He shook Donovan’s hand, and then he and Loren headed for the door.

“I still expect to see you in Sunday group, though!” Traci called after them, pointing her finger at them as they looked back over their shoulders.

“Absolutely,” Loren said, and Eliot gave her a waggle of his fingers.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “Thanks for everything, Traci.”

“Sure thing,” she replied with a wink. “Us mentally interesting people gotta stick together.”

Loren ushered Eliot out through the door, pulling it shut behind them, and as he did, he saw Donovan pull Traci to him and kiss the top of her head.

“Taking their experiences and using them to help others,” Eliot murmured, twining his fingers with Loren’s as they ambled back toward the common room. “I want to do that someday, Loren.”

“That’s an awesome goal, El,” Loren answered, squeezing Eliot’s hand. “I’ll support you one hundred percent.”

“I know you will,” Eliot said. “You always do.” He stopped and turned to face Loren, his green eyes clear and earnest. “Are you ready for this, Loren?”

Loren took him in his arms and looked straight into Eliot’s eyes. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he whispered.

And he truly believed it.

THREE DAYS
later Eliot was released from the hospital, his ninety-day court-mandated stay completed. Loren drove over to pick him up, having arranged for a week off from work in order to get them settled. His furniture was being delivered in a few hours, and he couldn’t wait to take Eliot to see the new house. Loren closed on it just the day before, the sellers having been motivated as promised.

As he strode up the perfectly landscaped walkway toward the front door of the facility, he heard his name being called. He turned and saw Rebecca standing near the decorative fountain, a package clutched in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise, and she walked toward him, holding the package out.

“Dr. Babcock told me he was being released today. Will you give this to him?” she asked. Loren took it from her slowly.

“Why don’t you give it to him yourself, Rebecca?”

She wrung her hands. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me, Loren. And to be honest, I’m not ready yet. But I wanted you both to have this for your new house.” Loren had spoken with her at length about his and Eliot’s after-hospital plans and arrangements.

Loren turned the package over in his hands. It was rectangular, felt like a picture frame.

“Okay, thanks, Rebecca,” he said in gentle tones. “I’ll be sure he gets it, and when we’re settled, we’ll have you over for dinner or something, take it slow.”

Rebecca gave him a grateful smile. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

Loren watched her walk to her car, and then he headed inside to wait for Eliot. It wasn’t long before he emerged from behind the locked doors, his duffle slung over his shoulder. Dr. Babcock was with him, and she handed him a manila envelope.

“I’ll forward the original discharge paperwork to the Court,” she was saying, “detailing your treatment and that you met the goals set forth in the order. Included are copies of the mandatory STD and HIV testing that was also part of the order, and I’m happy to report that all’s clear. Put all these copies in a safe place, Eliot, and if you have any questions about your medication at any time, please call me day or night. I’ve written my personal cell number at the top of the dosage schedule so there won’t be any excuses about not being able to get ahold of me. Your appointments with me are already scheduled for the next three months, so I’ll see you next week for the first one.”

Eliot nodded, and she patted him on the shoulder before heading back inside.

“Good luck, Eliot!” the pretty nurse called out from behind the reception desk. “I know it won’t hurt your feelings if I say I hope I never see you again!” She winked, and Eliot grinned at her.

“Thanks for everything, Erin,” he said, waving at her. “Take good care of my friends.”

“You know I will, hon,” she replied. “And you and Hottie take care of each other.” With that she picked up a stack of charts and went off to do her morning rounds.

Loren led Eliot to his truck, and when they were both seated inside, he leaned over and kissed him. “Let’s go home.”

A short twenty-minute freeway drive, and Loren turned into a tree-lined neighborhood. He pulled up in the driveway of the large one-story house he’d fallen in love with immediately upon seeing it.

The front yard was desert landscaped, of course, with rock and hardy plants, including some cacti, and he noticed Eliot looking at it as they made their way up the brick walkway to the front door.

“I kind of miss grass,” Eliot said wistfully, and Loren smiled.

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “But the HOA requires each property to plant at least two trees, so it still looks pretty.”

He unlocked the front door and pushed it open, and then stood back to watch as Eliot set off to explore. The house was tiled throughout, with vaulted ceilings, the walls painted pleasant designer colors like sage green with chocolate-brown accents. The kitchen was completely updated with brand-new stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops.

“Wow,” Eliot breathed. Loren walked up to him and pulled him into his arms.

“We can make this our home, El,” he murmured against his hair.

Eliot wrapped his arms around Loren’s waist and squeezed. “I don’t want it to be like some museum, Loren,” he said fiercely. “I want it to be lived in, someplace we can relax in, put our feet up, and not worry if we leave a fucking smudge on something.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Come on, let me show you the rest.”

They explored the house, Loren taking quiet pleasure in Eliot’s enjoyment in seeing it for the first time. Their master bedroom was huge, the en suite bath featuring a walk-in shower for two complete with rainfall showerhead.

There were three other smaller but still good-sized bedrooms, and a guest bath, and then Loren threw open the french doors leading to the backyard.

“No pool?” Eliot asked, a thread of disappointment in his voice as he looked out at the gorgeously landscaped area.

“No. All the ones that had pools I didn’t like as much,” Loren said, hating to lie but not wanting to tell him the truth—that if Eliot ever fell into a suicidal depression again, Loren didn’t want him to have the means right there at his fingertips, a way to slip into the depths and never resurface.

Loren led him outside. “But look at the outdoor kitchen,” he said, waving his hand at the built-in grill and wet bar. “Think of this with some awesome outdoor furniture, the entertaining we can do once we start to make some friends together. I can put in a misting system and we can use this all year round, El.”

Eliot’s face brightened, and he nodded, turning into Loren’s arms again. “Friends together,” he whispered. “I’ve never been part of a couple before, not like this… healthy and normal.”

Loren pulled him close, lifting Eliot’s chin to give him a gentle kiss. “It all starts today, baby, and I’d give you the world if I could. You know that, right?”

Eliot twined his arms around Loren’s neck and returned the kiss fervently. “I know,” he murmured against Loren’s lips. “I love you so much.”

Things were starting to get heated when the sound of a large truck pulling up outside permeated Loren’s passion-fogged brain, and he broke away from Eliot with reluctance. “Movers are here,” he rasped, clearing his throat and reaching down to adjust himself. Eliot was flushed and breathing hard, his own excitement evident by the bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans.

“Stupid movers,” he muttered. “Ruining a perfectly good boner.” Loren snorted with laughter, and Eliot said, his voice plaintive, “What? I have to take ’em when I can get ’em.” Loren pulled him close for one last hard kiss, bringing his hand down to brush against Eliot’s crotch suggestively.

“Later,” he whispered, giving Eliot a squeeze, and they both moaned before they pulled away from each other. Eliot disappeared into the hall bathroom to collect himself, and Loren took a few deep breaths to calm down before throwing the front door open wide to greet the movers.

LOREN AND
Eliot sat disconsolately on the hard tiled floor of their living room, surrounded by stacks of boxes and furniture set in haphazard fashion all around them.

“Geez, I thought you said you got rid of a bunch of stuff,” Eliot complained, giving a half-hearted poke into the contents of a box labeled “Den.”

“I did!” Loren protested. “I don’t remember this much stuff being left.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “Moving sucks.”

“And we still have my things to move over from my apartment,” Eliot grumbled.

Loren groaned. “That’s right. Rebecca kept the lease on the apartment for now, so at least we don’t have to be in a huge hurry to get over there and sort through it.”

“You picked up all my clothes already,” Eliot replied, shoving the “Den” box away from him. “I honestly can’t remember what else is over there.”