Chapter 12 Remember Me
DEFEAT.
What I feel is utter defeat, infecting every particle of my being.
I thought I was getting better; I thought I could lead a normal life.
I’ve been so deluded, such an idiot. Everything I’ve achieved over so many months of effort all destroyed in matter of minutes.
I sit on my bed, my back against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest as if I might somehow be able to hold my broken pieces together.
After Kang hung up, I sat without moving until Kamila and Andy got home. I was afraid that if I did anything else I might have another panic attack. Talking to Kang calmed me down, but it didn’t cure me. My fears are still there, bubbling under the surface like lava waiting to erupt.
The voice inside my head has become mean and cruel. You called him in the middle of a panic attack? Do you have any idea how crazy he must think you are? Or, even worse: Now he feels sorry for you. Couldn’t you hear the pity in his voice as he was trying to calm you down? You’re pathetic, Klara.
Kamila gave me a long talk about how this was not a setback, and that my progress has not been in any way affected by this one incident. So why do I feel so bad about it? I rub my face, lie down, and burrow under the covers to try to sleep.
What I hate and fear most about depression is the state of “deactivation,” as I like to call it, where you just feel numb.
Things happen around you but you can’t participate, existing without any reason or motivation.
It’s as if life leaves your body and you’re left an empty shell.
You don’t live, you don’t think, you don’t speak, you just exist.
“Good morning!” Andy comes into my room. “I brought you breakfast.”
This is a surprise since Kamila is the one who usually takes care of me.
I guess she can’t miss any more shifts at the hospital.
My phone is on my nightstand, but I haven’t looked at it or listened to Kang’s show in a week.
I’m sitting in what has become my favorite position: back against the wall, arms around my knees with my chin resting on them.
“Paula asked about you. She wants to know when the puppies can visit again.”
I don’t respond.
“Klara, look at me.”
I turn my head slightly toward him. The fine lines on his face become more pronounced, even through his facial hair, as he smiles kindly, his deep brown eyes staring at me intently.
“You know we’re not going away, Klara.” He places a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m not an expert like your sister, but I’ll speak from the heart.
You didn’t take a step back. You had a panic attack, but those few minutes don’t cancel out all the hours I know you were feeling good.
Think about all the fun you had with the puppies.
Or when you practice your exposure therapy.
Or how much you enjoy that boy’s radio show.
” He squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t let a few minutes define things, okay?
Just let me know what you need and I’ll get it for you. ”
I think of how my mother used to take care of me when I was sick as a little girl. She would make me vegetable soup and feed me, even after I was too big for it.
“Open up big for Mama.” Her smile is contagious. “Come on.”
“Mom, I’m not a baby anymore. I’m eleven years old,” I say, rolling my eyes.
She pats my cheek. “You will always be my baby, now open up.”
I reluctantly oblige and she feeds me a spoonful of soup. It’s delicious. She looks at me with so much love in her eyes.
At the time I didn’t appreciate the peace and security she was able to transmit with a simple glance.
Thick tears run down my face. “Soup.”
Andy is surprised to hear my voice. It’s the first time I’ve spoken in days. “You want soup?”
I nod, my voice hoarse from tears, as I respond, “Vegetable soup.”
Andy pats my back. “Vegetable soup it is.” He leans over and gives me a kiss on the head.
When Andy comes back a little while later, I don’t move, but he seems to read my mind and picks up the spoon.
“Okay, come on, open wide,” he says, playing along as he feeds me a spoonful of soup.
It might be the most childish thing in the world, but it’s what I need right now.
I don’t know why, but this sense of being taken care of makes me feel safe enough to reenter the world, to reactivate.
Andy pats my cheek just like my mother used to.
“You’re going to be fine, Klara, I promise. ”
His total assuredness makes me feel better.
I am so grateful to have Andy in my life.
Not just anyone would be willing to put up with what he’s been through with my mom, my sister, and me.
He has a wonderful, kind heart. Maybe life, when it rips people away from us, tries to make up for it by putting other people in their place.
“So, I’ve been listening to your radio show with that guy, Kang, right?” he says casually as he feeds me another spoonful. “He’s very good at what he does—he seems quite mature for such a young man.”
I can’t believe Andy has been listening to the show. Yet another thing he does for me.
“He’s mentioned you several times on the air.”
I almost choke on the soup. “He mentioned me?”
“Yes. On more than one occasion. He said he wondered where K could be, asked if you were listening, and said he was surprised that you hadn’t sent any messages. I assumed you were K, it’s too much of a coincidence.”
I continue eating in silence.
Kang mentioned me on Follow My Voice ? I find that hard to believe. A tentative feeling of joy buoys to the surface, but the weight of my depression pushes it back down. When Andy finishes feeding me, I stand up and reach for a towel.
“I’m going to take a bath,” I say, but I immediately freeze as I remember the panic attack I had in the shower.
Kamila has stayed with me while I showered the past few times. Andy seems to understand my fear. “I’ll wait by the bathroom door. You won’t be alone. I’ll be right outside in the hall, okay?”
My lips are trembling. “Thank…” My voice breaks, so I try again. “Thank you, Andy.”
He smiles. “You’re welcome, K1, always.”
I feel a little better after showering, but I go back to bed and lay under the covers until I hear the front door open.
Kamila must be home from her shift. I get up and start walking to the living room.
When I reach the hallway, I come to a halt and watch as she stops in front of Andy, who’s waiting for her in the kitchen.
They say nothing, just look at each other for a few long seconds.
Kamila starts to cry, and it breaks my heart.
Andy hugs her, stroking the back of her head and whispering words of encouragement.
This is the side of Kamila that she never shows me.
I know she hasn’t had it easy, either. Just because she’s a psychiatrist doesn’t mean she’s made of stone.
She was deeply affected by our mother’s death and her work is emotionally draining.
A few months ago, a patient she’d been treating for years died by suicide, and that broke a part of her that I’m not sure can ever be put back together; she feels like she failed him.
I don’t want to be a burden to her, to make things harder. Heartbroken for Kamila, I return to my room, determined to stay afloat and overcome my deactivated state. I think back to Kang’s soothing words as he helped me through my panic attack. Kang…
“It’s going to pass, K. I’ll stay with you until it does.”
“I’m here with you, K. You’ll feel better soon, you’ll see.”
Hearing his voice on the phone was a thousand times better than listening to him on the radio. I’ll never forget that feeling of having him so close.
Well, that was the last time, unless you’re planning to make him talk to you again out of pity.
I run my hand along the window and feel the cold glass on my fingers. I try to tell myself that Kang doesn’t pity me, that he understands what it’s like to suffer a panic attack. He stayed with me until it was over.
I plug my phone in and leave it charging while I open the curtains so I can watch the leaves dance in the breeze.
It looks so pretty and relaxing. Mom was the biggest fan of the fast-approaching season, and her enthusiasm made it grow on me.
She used to say fall leaves were nature’s confetti, that it was Earth’s way to cheer us up.
I guess that’s why one of my favorite paintings is of an autumn forest with a little cabin in the distance.
Cliché, I know, and some would consider it basic.
In my defense, I could picture myself in that cabin, smelling nature and watching the leaves fall during a crisp morning.
I’d wear a sweater while holding a cup of hot cocoa.
I wonder if I will ever be able to do that: travel and stay in a remote place like that.
It seems impossible now. What other things and experiences am I missing while staying here?
More sadness flows through me at all the possibilities of things I could be doing out there.
I settle back into bed and pick up my phone, now charged enough to power on, and I feel it vibrate in my hand. There are tons of notifications about new episodes of Korean dramas, voicemails from Kamila on the day of the panic attack, and… eleven messages from Kang!
My heart leaps as I open the chat thread to read from the first message to the most recent.
Friday
9:04 A.M. Good morning, K. Hope you’re doing all right today. I was waiting for you to text me when you felt ready, but I grew impatient. I hope that’s okay.
5:57 P.M. Ready for today’s show?
8:16 P.M. No messages sent today either, huh? It’s okay. Hope you’re feeling better.
Saturday
10:35 A.M. I know answering messages should not be your priority right now. I just hope you’re doing okay.
1:57 P.M. Now I get how listeners must feel when they send messages to Follow My Voice with no response.
7:03 P.M. I’ve decided to send you quotes, like you used to send to the show and brighten up my afternoon. Maybe they’ll have a similar effect on you.
8:46 P.M. “Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day,” from Shakespeare. Good night, K.
Sunday
7:56 A.M. “No matter how long the storm, the sun always shines behind the clouds,” by Kahlil Gibran.
2:47 P.M. “The thing in the world I am most afraid of is fear,” by Michel de Montaigne.
9:39 P.M. “How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman! It is so seldom heard, that, when it speaks, it ravishes all senses,” by Philip Massinger.
Today
11:24 A.M. “Like a dream the echo of her voice rings forever in my ears,” by Ramón de Campoamor. I hope Google translated it correctly.
What are you doing, Kang? What are you hoping to find in someone like me? And why does your insistence buoy me up and make me want to feel again?