Vivienne's Guilt (8 page)

“Mommy...finally!” Tillie says. “We been waiting for you foreverrr. I’m starvin’ Marvin.”

“Are you, Silly Tillie?” I ask, playing along. “Well, then, let’s eat.”

Matilda is sitting between Cassie and Reid...and I am apparently seated on the other side of
him
.

“She asked Reid to switch places with you, Mommy. Tillie wanted to sit by her cousin tonight. I hope you don’t mind?”

“No, it’s fine. All good,” I assure her, smiling sweetly. And I don’t know which one of us I am trying to convince.

Over spaghetti and meatballs, we discuss how the camp runs and what will be expected of Reid. It’s really a simple job. The campers come with their own supervision. We merely provide a fun place to visit and entertainment. Abbott and I were not willing to take on the responsibility of chaperoning as well. Reid’s primary job will be to take groups out in the boat and to play with the kids. To make sure everyone is having a great time. He will help bait fishing lines and remove fish from hooks for squeamish children. We have karaoke on Friday evenings.

Camp Aspie was Abbott’s pride and joy. His best friend growing up was a girl who suffered from Asperger’s Syndrome. These children are socially awkward and have difficulty forming friendships. They were an unlikely pair, with Abbott being the social butterfly. But Gracie took a liking to Abbott and became borderline obsessed with him. Instead of being turned off by her attention, Abbott became her champion. He looked after her in school, and they became very close. They eventually grew apart after high school, and I’ve never actually met her. I could tell what a tremendous impact she had on his life. The way he was with these kids. It was just incredible.

“So the campers will arrive next week. They’ll be here every day from eight to five and from eight to eight on Fridays for karaoke night. The camp runs every week until August 2
nd
.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun. All I have to do is play with a bunch of kids. I can handle that,” he says confidently.

“I love Camp Aspie,” Cassie chimes in. “It’s a really rewarding experience. I can’t wait to meet this year’s kiddos.”

“It may take a little while for the kids to warm up to you...to all of us. I don’t know what you know about Asperger’s Syndrome, but the kids are a little...different. Mostly just shy. They need a little help making friends, but this camp is like therapy for them. You’ll see so much growth from the time they get here until they leave. It’s our hope that they make lifelong friendships,” I explain, finally feeling a little excitement.

“So, do you have the same kids every year?” Reid asks.

“We have a few repeats this year. The camp is for children between thirteen and fifteen. So, we end up with a lot of newbies every year. We try to keep the kids close in age. It’s easier for them to forge lasting friendships that way.”

Reid nods his head in agreement while chewing on a mouthful of spaghetti. “Makes sense.”

“Can I play wif Reid, too? I wanna go in the boat.” Tillie was too young to really remember the camp last year. “My daddy always taked me in the boat, right, Mommy?”

“Right, sweet girl. Daddy loved taking you fishing,” I assure her. “You’ll be able to go out in the boat, too, but not with the big kids.”

“I can take her tomorrow,” Reid offers. “As long as it’s okay with you, of course.” I don’t really have anything else to do for the next week. I’d love to spend some time hanging out with you two.”

How sweet is he? Reid really is a great kid. I need to get control of my emotions and just enjoy having him around. I’m going to use this time to get to know him again, and we are going to make this a great summer for my baby girl. I will give her a happy childhood, even if I have to fake my own happiness to make it happen.

“Thanks, Reid,” I say, turning to look at him for the first time since sitting next to him tonight. “Really, it means so much. You spending time with her...with us. We could use a little fun, right, baby girl?”

“Right!” Tillie shouts with a mouthful.

“Don’t mention it, Aunt Viv. It’s what I’m here for. To spend some time with family and get to know my baby cousin. Isn’t that right, Tillie?” he asks, nudging her with his shoulder.

“Yep, it is right! You can be my prince since Daddy got dead!” Tillie announces excitedly.

My jaw drops.

“I think that’s a great idea...You can call him Prince Reid,” Cassie suggests. “Daddy will always be your Prince Abbott, baby girl.” Then she looks at me as if asking permission. “But, a girl can never have too many princes. Right, Momma?”

Reid looks my way apologetically as I give a strained response. “Yeah...Right. Can’t have too many,” I say, trying not to cry. “I’m sorry guys...” I push up from the table, feeling the all too familiar burn behind my eyes. “I’m starting to feel a little sick again.” I look over to Cassie with pleading eyes. “Would you mind getting Matilda down for me just one more night?”

“Of course, Momma, you know I don’t mind. Anything, remember? You can ask me for anything. We’re in this together.”

I give Cassie a hug and then step around Reid to hug and kiss Matilda good night. My sweet girl. My whole world. She is all I have left, and once again I am pushing her off on Cassie. But, as I feel the burn of the tears threatening to fall, I know that I am not strong enough for this right now. I have to get out before I completely break down in front of her. I can’t scare her like that. She’s seen enough of my tears. I turn back to Reid, wishing him a good night, and then carry myself on wobbly legs back to my sanctuary.

I throw myself back onto the bed with tears streaming down my cheeks and reach for my phone. Without thinking, I open to the contacts and my finger hovers above his name. He’s always been my first response...my go-to. And, when I realize what I’ve done, it’s like losing him all over again. How can a heart already so broken continue to break? I stare at his name, crying so hard that I can barely make out the letters, and then I press my trembling finger to the screen. Abbott’s phone is dead, so it goes immediately to voicemail. I listen to his greeting over and over again
.
“You’ve reached Abbott Parker, and I’m unavailable at the moment, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll be sure to call you back. P.S. If this is my gorgeous wife...Vivie, I love you.”
I love you too. God, I love you so much
. I’m like an addict getting her fix. His voice is music to my starving ears. It sends chills down my spine and a knife right through my heart. One day, I will be able to listen to it and smile.

But, not today. I’m not there yet.

Vivienne

“Come on in, Vivienne, and have a seat,” Dr. Benson beckons from behind his cluttered desk. He’s an older man in his fifties or sixties with a full head of salt and pepper hair. He’s fit, very attractive for his age, and has the kindest eyes. “I’m very sorry to hear about Abbott,” he adds sincerely as I seat myself across from him in a worn armchair and inhale deeply to calm my frazzled nerves. His office smells of paper and dust—like an old library.

I began seeing Dr. Benson a few weeks after Tillie was born. That’s when the panic attacks first started. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. I thought that I was dying. Random spots on my body started to go numb. I was dizzy and having heart palpitations. Abbott ended up bringing me to the emergency room when I almost dropped Tillie one night. After a battery of tests was run to rule out any neurological or heart problems, I was diagnosed with postpartum. And still, after a clean bill of health, I was sure that those doctors hadn’t a clue what they were talking about. Women with postpartum hate their babies, right? I was convinced that they just couldn’t figure out what was wrong because I saw the moon and stars in my baby girl’s eyes. There was no way that she was the cause. But, at the hospital’s recommendation, I came to see Dr. Benson, and he confirmed that postpartum is not always depression and that what I had was anxiety. He put me on a daily pill for a few months, and after I was feeling better, he prescribed Xanax to take as needed.

I look up to meet his glistening brown eyes with tear-soaked eyes of my own. “Thank you...I still can’t believe that he’s gone,” I say, already fighting back tears. “That he isn’t just on a business trip and coming back home to me.”

“I can only imagine how hard this all is for you. I would ask how you’re doing, but I don’t really think that’s necessary,” he says, folding his slightly wrinkled hands together on the top of his desk. “Why don’t you start? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Dr. Benson patiently waits while I gather my composure. I really like that about him. I know it is his job, but he is so calm—never pushy. “I don’t really know where to start,” I say, and those damned tears fall anyway. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” I choke out.

He passes me a handful of Kleenex, and I dab at my eyes and nose. “I’m trying so hard to be normal for Tillie. She can’t lose me, too. But, I’m so scared...I’m scared that I won’t be able to stop that from happening.” I curl up into the chair and hug my knees to my chest.

With a look of concern, he asks, “What do you mean by lose you, Vivienne?”

I can see where he is going with this.

“Not, ummm, not physically, of course,” I say, looking up at him through wet lashes. “Don’t worry about that. I could never ever do that to her. I just mean mentally. I can’t focus, and I’m so sad. I can’t stop crying. I’ve been so distant with her, and I know that she needs me, but I don’t feel like I’m able to be what she needs right now, and I hate it! I hate the person that I’m becoming, but I don’t know how to stop it...I feel like I’m failing her,” I cry. “I’m failing my baby.”

“Vivienne, you are
not
failing,” he says, meeting my eyes. “Listen to me. You’re an amazing mother to that little girl, and you were an amazing wife to Abbott. You will get through this. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually you will find happiness again. You’ll find it in your daughter and your loved ones, and your days will get easier. I’m not saying you will ever stop loving Abbott or missing him, or even that you’ll move on romantically; although, that’s okay, too. Each person is different and whatever path you choose will be the right one for you. But, you’ll learn to live again. I’ve been doing this for such a long time. Believe me when I tell you that you will get through this.”

The passion in which he delivers his words makes me almost believe them. I want to believe so badly that I will come out of this okay. That someday I won’t be merely surviving but
living
again, but right now my future feels so bleak. If it weren’t for Tillie, I would have no reason to get out of bed in the morning. That is my truth.

“Do you have anyone helping you?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Someone to help occupy your time and distract you from your grief?”

“Cassie was...until I sent her home yesterday. I was depending on her too much. I need to do this on my own. I want Tillie’s life to be as normal as possible and watching her godmother take care of her mother is not normal,” I say nervously, now questioning my own decision.

“You can’t put a time limit on grief. We all have to grieve in our own way and at our own pace. I’m afraid that you’re trying to rush yourself, Vivienne. Abbott hasn’t even been gone two weeks. Please allow your loved ones to be there for you. I’m really concerned about you being in that big house all alone.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m not alone, and I don’t mean Tillie,” I add. “Abbott’s nephew, Reid, came to help with the camp over the summer, so he’s staying with us.”

I don’t tell him that Reid is technically next door in the pool house, and that is about as close as I can handle right now, or that I really don’t know him at all. I don’t tell him how crazy I have felt since laying eyes on him at the airport yesterday or that the panic attacks have more than doubled. I don’t tell him that the emptiness I’ve been feeling since Abbott’s death is slowly being replaced by guilt.

“Great. That’s good. I’m glad you have him there with you.” I can hear the relief in his voice.

“Reid is great. He’s out fishing with Matilda right now, actually. I have a feeling they’ll be really close by summer’s end,” I say with a forced smile.

The doctor looks at me questioningly. “Am I sensing some animosity? Has something happened that I should know about?” he asks, wrinkling his forehead.

I have no poker face.

“No. Not really. But...well...he looks just like Abbott. It’s sort of messing with my head a little. It’s just...It hurts seeing him. I know it’s not his fault. Reid really is great. It’s my issue. Not his,” I ramble. “And Tillie...God, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a child,” I say, placing my head in my hands.

Dr. Benson shakes his head at me. “There is
nothing
you can say that would make you sound like a child. You’re entitled to your feelings, however juvenile you may think that they are.”

I nod. “I’m afraid that Tillie is trying to replace Abbott with Reid...” The tears are now falling freely. It hurts more than I imagined to speak that thought aloud. “Abbott
just
died.” I grab for more tissues and wipe at my wet face.