by Vi Keeland
The name rang a bell, but it took me a second to figure out why over the pounding in my head. I sat up and realized for the first time that I’d been sprawled out over a few folding chairs with plastic-covered, cushioned bottoms.
My hand reached for the side of my head once I was upright. “Did I get hurt?”
“Not that I’m aware of, other than what I suspect might be a little alcohol poisoning from overconsumption.”
Fuck. My head is really killing me. And what the hell was I doing at Patton? “Do you know how I got here?”
“The guard asked you that when you came in. You told him Uber.”
I went to nod, but raising my head and lowering it hurt too fucking much. I racked my brain, trying to remember the events of last night. I remembered being at a bar, and I remembered some guy helping me to a car after he locked the door. Joe? Maybe his name was Joe. Yeah, that was it. He was the bartender, and I’d walked out with him at closing time. Damn…that means I was drinking until four in the morning. No wonder I don’t remember shit.
“Did we meet earlier?” I asked Dr. Booth.
He smiled. “No. This is the first time we’ve met. You came in about five thirty this morning and asked to see one of my patients. All visits require the inmate’s psychiatrist’s approval. The guards knew you were drunk and turned you away. But they called me to let me know what had happened, and I asked them to let you sleep it off in the waiting room, at least until visiting hours start at noon. The hospital allows visitors twenty-four hours a day, but the correctional facility ward follows state prison protocol when it comes to letting people in.”
“What time is it?”
He looked at his watch. “Ten fifteen.”
I raked a hand through my hair. Even touching the strands hurt. “I take it you’re Lily’s doctor?”
He nodded. “I am. Lily tried to get you to come see her for the first four years of her admission here. You never would respond to any of my messages or her letters. So I was curious what made you come by today. But by the time I got here, you were out cold.”
“You’ve been sitting there for four hours waiting for me to wake up?”
He smiled. “No. When I saw your condition, I made my morning rounds and told the guard to page me if you woke up. I came back after I finished to work on some of my charts.” He pointed his eyes down to a stack of thick manila folders on the chair next to him.
“Why?”
“Why what? Why did I ask the guards to let you sleep it off, or why am I here working on my charts?”
I shook my head. “All of it.”
“Well, like I said, I was curious about you. And Lily is still my patient. She’s made great progress over the years, but I often learn things from family members that help me in treatment. When she was first admitted, she signed a release that all of her medical information could be discussed with you. Every year we go over her permissions on file. It’s been seven years, and she still hasn’t withdrawn permission for me to discuss her health with you. So I’m legally free to discuss her case. I thought it also might be helpful for me to understand why it was you were here to see her today.”
“When she was first admitted? She wasn’t admitted to the hospital, Doc. She was sentenced—to twenty-five damn years. And you people keep her here to do easy time. She deserves to be locked in a cell, just like all the other murderers.”
“I see. Did you come today to speak to her?”
I cleared my throat. My mouth was so damn dry. “No. I have no desire to see her. Or help her. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking last night, or this morning—whenever I showed up. But it was a mistake.”
Dr. Booth examined my face and nodded. “I understand. But perhaps you and I could still talk.” He stood. “How do you take your coffee? Let me at least give you some caffeine and Tylenol. It looks like you could use both.”
The thought of standing made me feel nauseous, much less jumping in a cab and taking the hour-and-a-half ride back home. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah. Alright. I could use some coffee before I get out of here. Black, please.”
The doc disappeared and came back a few minutes later with two Styrofoam cups and a small packet of Tylenol.
“Thank you.”
He took a seat across from me and stayed quiet, watching me.
“I don’t normally do this. Haven’t tied one on like that since college.”
Dr. Booth nodded. “Did something happen that set you off? Drinking and showing up here, I mean?”
“Nothing that has to do with Lily.” Or everything that has to do with my ex-wife.
“We can talk about whatever you like. It doesn’t have to be about Lily.”
I scoffed. “No, but I’m sure you’d psychoanalyze anything I say to relate it back to her. Isn’t that what shrinks do? Find a cause for everything that happens so there’s someone or something to blame other than their patient? A man murders another man while robbing him—his father molested him, so it’s his father’s fault. Not the crack he smoked an hour before because he’s an addict. A woman kills her own child—she shouldn’t be blamed because she’s depressed. We’re all fucking depressed at some point in our lives, Doc.”
The doc sipped his coffee. “I wasn’t planning on psychoanalyzing you. I figured if you were here, you could use someone to talk to. I’m not your doctor, but I’m a man, and you’re a fellow man who seems in need. That’s all.”
Well, now I felt like shit. I raked a hand through my hair. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Trust me, I don’t get offended easily. Hazard of the career. Most people who show up at my door aren’t there because they want to be. Either the court or their family forced their hand. It’s not uncommon for me to be told to fuck off because I’m an asshole in the first fifteen minutes of a session.”
I smiled. “I’m usually good at holding my tongue for the first half hour of a meeting.”
Dr. Booth smiled back. “May I ask you a personal question?”
I shrugged. “Go for it. It doesn’t mean I have to answer.”
He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Are you married?”
“No.”
“In a relationship?”
I thought of Ireland. I was. Or am I? I don’t fucking know. “I’ve been seeing someone, yes.”
“Are you happy?”
Another loaded question I couldn’t answer easily. “It’s hard to be happy when you’ve lost a child. But, yeah…Ireland makes me happy.” I shook my head. “For the first time in seven damn years.”
Doc was quiet for a long time again. “Is it possible you came today because you want forgiveness so you can move on?”
I felt the veins in my neck pulse with anger. “Lily doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”
Dr. Booth caught my eyes. “I wasn’t referring to Lily. Forgiveness is something you have to find within yourself. No one can give that to you. Yes, I believe your ex-wife suffers from bipolar disorder that caused her behavior to be manic, and that, coupled with severe postpartum depression, made her do something unthinkable, but you don’t need to agree with me in order to find forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn’t excuse Lily’s behavior. Forgiveness allows that behavior to not destroy your heart anymore.”
I tasted salt in the back of my mouth. I’d cried enough in the last seven years; I wasn’t about to sit in the same building my ex-wife breathed in and shed any more tears. I cleared my throat, hoping to swallow my emotions.
“I know you mean well, Doc. And I appreciate it. I really do… But Lily doesn’t deserve forgiveness.” I shook my head. “I should really get going. Thanks for the coffee and Tylenol.”
I stood and extended my hand to Dr. Booth. When he clasped mine, he again looked into my eyes. “I don’t think you want to forgive Lily. I think you want to forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong, Grant. Give yourself that forgiveness and move on. Sometimes people don’t allow themselves to forgive because they’re afraid they’ll forget—forgive and for
get. But you’ll never forget Leilani. You just need to realize there’s room in your heart for more than one person again.”
“Tell her to stop writing the letters, Doc.”
Chapter 35
* * *
Ireland
Almost two weeks had passed, and yet it felt like a year.
Between my construction and work, I had enough to keep me busy. But every time I passed the exit that led to the marina where Grant lived, it felt like ripping a Band-Aid off of a fresh wound.
It was Saturday afternoon, and Mia and I were meeting for lunch at our favorite Greek restaurant. I’d gotten caught in traffic, so I arrived a few minutes late, and she’d already gotten a table.
“Hey.” I slid into the booth across from her.
Her face wrinkled up when she looked at me. “Did you come from the gym?”
“No. Why?”
Mia frowned. “No offense, but you sort of look like shit.”
I sighed. “I didn’t feel like doing my hair. I thought the messy bun was still in?”
“It is. But yours looks more like a rat’s nest. And your shirt has a giant stain on it, and either you have black eyes coming in or you didn’t get all of yesterday’s makeup off.”
I looked down at my sweatshirt. Sure enough, there was a giant, round spot. I rubbed at it. “I had a container of Ben & Jerry’s for dinner last night. I missed my mouth a few times.”
Mia raised a brow. “So you slept in that shirt?”
“Shut up. I’ve seen you wear the same outfit for days when you’re sick.”
“That’s because I’m sick. Are you?”
“No.”
She made yet another disapproving face. “I take it you still haven’t heard from Grant?”
My shoulders slumped. “No.”
Mia shook her head. “I can’t believe he turned out to be such a piece of shit.”
“He’s not a piece of shit. He just…really didn’t want children.”
“Yes. And five years ago, I didn’t ever want to get married. I really didn’t want my mom to die at fifty-nine last year either. This is life. We do our best to live it, but we can’t be in control of everything.”
“I know. But having children is something we can control.”
“Did you take all of your pills?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grant wear a condom every time you had sex?”
“Yes.”
“Then obviously there are times we can’t control it. Nothing in life is foolproof.”
“I know. But he has a good reason for being upset.” A few days after Grant walked out, I’d unloaded everything on Mia—from my pregnancy to the reason I’d found out he didn’t want children.
“Of course he does. He’s experienced an unthinkable trauma. I understand that. So he deserved a little time to be shocked and upset, but it’s been almost two weeks now. What is he going to do? Pretend he doesn’t have a child and this entire thing doesn’t exist?”
I’d been wondering the same thing lately. The first few days he didn’t call or come by, I understood why he was upset. But at what point did he plan on dealing with the reality of our situation? I’d been so certain he’d come around…even if he didn’t want to be with me or want to be involved with this baby’s life. I thought he would at least own up to it and we’d talk. But the past few days, I’d started to lose the last shred of confidence in him. Hence the ice cream dinners.
“Can we just…not talk about it today? I need a day off from dealing with everything. Let’s stuff our faces and go to the movies like we planned and eat buttered popcorn with Snowcaps until we feel nauseous.”
Mia nodded. “Of course. Sure. But can I say one more thing? And it’s not really about Grant.”
I smiled. So Mia. “Sure.”
Her face lit up as her lips curved. “I went off the pill.”
My eyes widened. “Really? I thought you and Christian wanted to wait a year or two before having kids.”
“We did. But things change. I’ve been thinking about it since the day you told me you were pregnant. Then, a few days ago Christian came into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth. You know my routine in the morning—teeth then pill. He looked at them in my hand and said, ‘I can’t wait until you’re pregnant. The thought of you with a big belly just turns me on like you wouldn’t believe.’
“So I turned around and said, ‘I could stop taking them now.’ I guess I expected him to backtrack. It’s one thing to say you’re looking forward to seeing your wife pregnant and another to want that to be next month. But he took the pills out of my hand and tossed them in the garbage. Then we had a quickie on the bathroom sink.”
I laughed. “Well, it would be awesome to have kids around the same age. But are you ready for that?”
She picked up an olive from the dish in the middle of the table and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t think anyone’s ever ready for kids. But yeah…I don’t really want to wait.”
I took Mia’s hands. “I love you, my crazy friend.”
“I know you want to stop talking about this. So I promise this is the last thing I’ll say today...” She squeezed my hand. “I will be here for you every step of the way. Holding your hair back through morning sickness if you have it, getting fat with you, even if I’m not pregnant, and by your side in the delivery room, if you’ll have me. There is nothing you’ll be alone for.”
I felt my eyes watering and fanned my face with my hand. “Thank you. And now let’s move on. I refuse to cry anymore.”
“You got it.” She picked up her menu and pointed to the waiter heading our way. “Do you think that’s a banana he’s carrying?”
I turned to see what the waiter had in his hands just as he arrived at the table, though I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. The only thing he had was a small pad and pencil. I ordered first and waited for Mia to order. But picking up my menu to hand it to him, I came face to face with his crotch and realized she hadn’t been talking about anything in his hands. It was in his pants.
My eyes widened, and I had to lift the menu back up to my face to hide my smile. Seriously, the man either had an erection or had to be stuffing. I cracked up and had to force it into a cough so I didn’t laugh in the waiter’s face while I handed him back the menu.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I grabbed the water off the table and brought it to my lips. “Fine. Just swallowed down the wrong pipe.”
After he left, the two of us laughed for a solid five minutes. It was the first time in almost two weeks that I’d really laughed, and it made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could get through this on my own, if I had to.
***
The tile in my bathroom came out beautifully. I’d just finished sweeping up after the contractor left and stood admiring it. The tumbled marble that the guy in Home Depot had recommended gave off a rustic look that really went with the lake house feel I was going for.
Unfortunately, thinking of that contractor reminded me of Grant—he’d been jealous of the construction guy who was just being nice at that store. How did one go from being jealous to disappearing from someone’s life in the span of a few weeks? And don’t even get me started with the fooling around that had gone on in this room when he’d spent the day helping me.
Everything reminded me of Grant—my apartment, work, even the construction of my home. Unconsciously, I reached down and covered my belly. Realizing what I’d done, I sighed. He was everywhere, even inside me. How the hell was I supposed to escape it?
My head hurt from so much thinking, and my heart ached in my chest. I’d decided if I didn’t hear from Grant by tomorrow morning, which would be two full weeks, I was going to go see him in his office. If we weren’t going to be a couple, that was one thing, but I needed to know if he planned to be in his child’s life.
I looked around the bathroom one last time and switched off the light. I emptied the dustpan into the garbage bag in the kitchen a
nd set the broom against the door. The last of the day’s sun streaked in through the adjoining living room windows, and I thought I might walk down to the lake to watch it set—yet another thing that reminded me of Grant, though I refused to let him take the beauty out of a sunset for me.
My land was about three blocks from the lake, but it was a straight walk down a paved road. One of the nearby lakefront parcels hadn’t been sold yet, so I sat down on the grass at the lake’s edge on that property and watched as the sky turned shades of orange.
I shut my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and wrapped my arms around my knees. I heard a jingle behind me, but was so lost in my head that I didn’t register the sound until I was nearly knocked over by a dog. The most adorable golden retriever puppy started to lick my face. It made me smile and laugh.
“Aren’t you cute. Where did you come from?”
A few seconds later, the answer came. “Down, boy!”
I froze, hearing Grant’s deep voice behind me.
I couldn’t bring myself to turn around until I felt the vibration of footsteps next to me on the ground.
“Grant?”
Just seeing his face made my heart beat wildly. I reached up to cover it and felt the thumping underneath.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you. I saw your car at the house, but needed a minute to clear my head.” He thumbed behind him. “So I parked here. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. When I opened my car door, he jumped over me and took off like a bandit running this way.”
“He? Meaning the dog came with you?”
He nodded. “Yeah. He’s mine.”
The dog spotted some birds a few yards away and took off chasing them.
“I better get him on his leash.”
Grant followed, managing to hook the dog’s collar as he jumped up on him. I watched, feeling so confused. He has a puppy? When did that happen?
He walked back with the dog on a long leash, and for the first time, I took in how he looked. My reaction was probably similar to Mia’s when she got a load of me the other day. Grant looked terrible—or as terrible as he possibly could, which at the moment really pissed me off because his terrible was still a shitload better than most men’s best. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, clothes were a wrinkled mess, and his skin had a sallow tone to it.