Chapter 40
THE SESSION
MAGGIE
Stopping myself from throwing up or marking up my reflection took all of my energy. I meant it when I promised Zeke I would try to get better, but I didn’t admit how much my own brain terrified me.
Most of that night seemed fuzzy when I tried to remember it.
The doctors at the hospital told me that memory issues were common with anorexia nervosa.
When people experienced a breakdown like I had, sometimes our minds tried to protect us by blocking out trauma.
The only thing I could remember was the thought on repeat right before Zeke found me—how much the extra weight made me want to die.
Shame kept me silent. I hadn’t even admitted that truth to Barb.
Rationally I knew that gaining weight shouldn’t make someone contemplate ending their life, but having a mental illness didn’t have to be rational.
The suicidal ideation was the only reason I committed myself to getting better.
I refused to hurt Zeke, Celeste, or Marla that way.
A chasm grew wider between Zeke and I as the days went by. Although he agreed to go see Barb with me the following week, he remained as distant as ever throughout the weekend. I stayed in my room most of the time. Everything tasted like chalk, but I swallowed enough food that Zeke didn’t hover.
Loneliness became my best friend.
By the time we entered Barb’s waiting room on Monday afternoon, I wanted to scream. Zeke and I barely looked at one another.
“Well, Sergeant Hayes, thank you for joining us. I’m glad you came,” Barb began. “I recommended some joint sessions because Maggie and I are on the verge of a breakthrough. As her husband, you can be instrumental in achieving that next level.”
Zeke smiled wryly. “Happy to help. So where do we start?”
By the time our hour drew to a close, I panted like I ran a marathon.
If I thought talking to Barb before made me vulnerable, a therapy session with Zeke was the equivalent of getting a pap smear in the middle of Disney World while buck naked.
There were still facets of our personalities that we never got to know since we jumped so quickly into marriage and then immediately became more like roommates.
Half the time the things that came out of his mouth shocked me, like when he declined to describe his plans for the Army.
“Maggie and I are two halves of a whole,” Zeke told Barb, “so I no longer have any goals until we decide on them together.”
Barb, however, wore a pleased expression. “Great work today, you two. I’m exceptionally proud of you, Zeke. I know how hard you struggle with social cues, but you were right on target for Maggie.”
Zeke and I exchanged matching puzzled expressions. “How do you know he struggles with social cues?” I asked. Up until Barb suggested a couple’s counseling session, we didn’t talk much about Zeke.
The therapist shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I can hardly diagnose him after one session, but I’ve done this long enough to recognize someone with autism when I encounter them.”
My jaw dropped. From the corner of my eye, I saw Zeke go rigid in his seat.
“Haven’t you ever been diagnosed?” Barb asked in surprise.
My husband shook his head. “I-I—I don’t know,” he stuttered.
“Well there’s certainly nothing wrong with it,” Barb replied. “I’ll have you both back next Monday, okay? Maggie, I expect you here on Thursday.”
Neither of us said a word as we walked out towards the shuttle stop together.
Zeke’s truck still hadn’t arrived from the U.S.
so we resorted to utilizing the public transportation available on post any time we needed to travel more than a few blocks.
For once I was glad because I was still at a loss for words.
The other passengers served as buffer for a conversation I didn’t know how to have.
Zeke’s unofficial diagnosis made so much sense from the little I knew about autism.
One of my classmates at Smithson County High had it.
I’d seen firsthand how much Zeke struggled with eye contact with anyone other than me, just like Marshall Weatherbee back home.
I wondered how no one else had noticed it about Zeke before.
He still hadn’t opened up to me about his childhood—didn’t he ever go to the doctor as a kid?
What did it mean for him in the military?
The silence stretched between us as the apartment door closed. How do you offer comfort for something like this?
“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go lay down,” Zeke said, his voice low. “This is kind of a lot to process.”
As he stepped away, my hand shot out on its own, clutching his wrist. He paused at the edge of the hallway, angling his head towards me to indicate he would listen, but refusing to look at me. I no longer knew if that was from autism or his indifference towards me.
“Hey,” I whispered. “You’re not alone in this, Zeke.”
Large blue eyes found mine. All the warmth had drained from their depths. “That’s the thing, Maggie. I’m always alone,” he murmured.