Chapter Thirty-Two
Then
Jasper
Each episode, unlike the one before, I’m sent into a tailspin the last couple of days.
This one came on faster than they typically do.
When I arrived at the beach house two nights ago, I was going to stay for a few hours to clear my head, mourn, and then head back to Helen’s to be with Avery.
But I didn’t. I was gutted and in disbelief, but then slowly the emotions melted away.
They transformed into a painful weight pressed on my every limb, but in a way, I couldn’t feel anymore.
I roll over to the side of the bed and snatch my phone from the wooden floor. I’ve kept it off since I got here, only checking it twice. Pressing the small button on top, I watch as my phone turns on—and with it, a slew of concerned text messages.
Dad: Where are you?
Arizona: Just got home. Your dad said you’d be here soon.
Arizona: Where are you?
Arizona: Is everything okay?
Arizona: I’m getting worried. Where are you?
Arizona: Text me back. I need you.
Dad: Got worried. Drove up to the beach house.
Dad: I see your truck here. I’ll give you space. Please let me know if you need anything.
At least my dad knows now.
Arizona: Jasper? Please answer my calls or text back.
I should be bothered by her pleading, but I can’t get there.
Arizona: I’m sad. I miss you.
Her words mean nothing in this moment, and I hate myself for it.
Arizona: I can’t stop crying, please come cuddle me.
Dad: Avery is worried. I won’t tell her where you are, because you seem to need space, but I’m only giving you another day and then we’re coming to get you.
Arizona: Spoke with your dad. He reassured me everything is alright. He doesn’t seem worried.
Arizona: Does he know where you are?
Arizona: Jasper, I need you. Please.
This isn’t always how things go, but the more I thought about Avery leaving, the more I fell deeper into myself.
When I knew she was going to move back to Arizona, my mind had already accepted it.
I began looking for ways for us to still be together.
Because I knew we would. But then after finding out she was pregnant and believing she wouldn’t actually be going away just to face the possibly that I was going to lose something I hadn’t yet been able to experience was like being submerged underwater with no way to find the surface.
Arizona: I can’t sleep. I miss you.
Arizona: I feel so alone.
Dad: Twelve more hours.
He’s counting down until he breaks into my house, I know it. I glance at the time and date. I haven’t even been gone for forty-eight hours, yet.
I need to respond to them, but there’s not enough motivation in me to do it. I drop my phone back onto the floor, then roll back on my side and yank the blanket over my head, falling back asleep.
A pounding on the door wakes me from the darkness. Unsure if it’s a dream, I close my eyes again. The rapping at the door grows harder and quicker. Maybe it’s not a dream? Is it my dad? I consider not answering it and burying my face into the thick comforter of the floor bed.
“Jasper!” I hear her yell my name through the wood, followed by another impatient rhythm.
Avery. Avery!
I should want to see her. I love her, but when I’m in this state, everything outside of lying in bed is nearly unbearable. I doze off for an unclear amount of time. But then, there’s a banging on the glass door to the back patio.
Sucking in a deep breath, I peel myself off the floor and drag my feet over to the back door.
“What the fuck, Jasper!?” Avery storms inside the beach house. “Is this where you’ve been the last forty-eight hours?”
I can tell she’s upset, but the fog in my brain prevents me from empathizing. It angers me to my core.
“Yes,” I say, gripping the handle on the door.
“Your dad told me you were here.” Avery’s hair is thrown into a bun, and her eyes have dark circles underneath them.
“I figured he would,” I say in an even voice.
“I shouldn’t have had to hear it from him!” she snaps. “I should have known. You’re my husband!
“I’m sorry,” is all I can offer.
Her shaky arms fold across her chest. “How could you just leave me like that?”
My head falls as I squeeze my eyelids shut. “I’m sorry, Avery.”
“You said this was something I wouldn’t have to do alone.” Her voice cracks with desperation. “I trusted you!”
“I know.” Closing the door, I walk right past her and back to the bed. She needs comfort and wants to be held tight, but I can’t find the urge to do it.
“You promised, Jasper.” Tears fall from her eyes.
I drop to the floor, almost missing the side of the low bed. “I know that too.”
“That’s all you have to say?” she presses, losing her patience.
I want more than anything to give her what she wants.
I also want to explain when these episodes take control, I feel powerless to stop them.
Like those intrusive thoughts say, what would happen if you swerved to the left ever so slightly into oncoming traffic?
But then, the rational voice always overpowers, preventing you from following through.
How can I explain to her, at this emotional time, that the sensible voice inside my head is nowhere to be found?
“I’m doing the best I can.” I run a tired hand through my dirty hair. “This is hard for me too.”
“But if we can’t lean on each other during hard times like this, how will a marriage ever work?” she counters.
My brain sends panic signals pulsing through my veins, but it simply feels like a dull buzz easily shaken off. Fuck, I want to feel. I can’t even remember what it was like to feel.
“Everything will be fine—”
“Will it?” She paces back and forth in front of me. “Because I’m starting to think it might not be.”
“It will.”
“Have you been taking your meds?”
I want to tell her so badly, but the truth is—I haven’t.
I’ve been so happy that I thought I was better with everything between us.
I thought I could handle it. And now that I’m thinking about it, no wonder why I’m crashing so hard right now.
It’s been a little over a week since my last pill, and usually, by now, I start to feel all the physical and mental symptoms much more heightened.
“I’ve got it handled, okay?” I snap.
“You don’t.” She lowers to the bed, taking the space next to me but maintaining at least a foot between us. “You’re struggling.”
“I told you, it will pass. It always does.”
Her hands swipe the wetness under her eyes. “If we want to build a life together, I need to be able to trust you.”
“You can.”
“I can’t.”
I exhale a heavy sigh in frustration. I hate that we’re going through this. I hate that I have this darkness I can’t control.
“I’m sorry. I can’t control it,” I plead.
“Yes, you can,” she spits. “You can take the medication your body desperately needs.”
“It’s not that simple,” I mumble, resting my head in my hands.
“What do you think would happen to someone with epilepsy who stopped taking their medications?”
“It’s not the—”
“They’d start having seizures again.” She steps forward, then drops to her knees in front of me. “You have an illness. Treat it like one.”
My head aches. “Fine, Avery.”
“I needed you.” Her shoulders bounce as the sobs come once again. “And you weren’t there.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into me. She continues to cry into my chest.
Fuck.
“I lost our baby.” She heaves, falling into my lap. Her face was buried in her hands. “I didn’t grow up with loving parents. This was my one chance to create the family I never had, and I ruined it.”
“This is not your fault.”
“I never should have believed I could have a life like that,” she says. “I went against my better judgment and got swept away in love and the dream that now seems impossible.”
Frustration crawls up my spine. The heat is unbearable as I muster everything to fight for her. “We do love each other, and you do deserve a life that you want.”
“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“You’re not going to be. I’m here.”
“But you’re not,” she mutters.
“I’m sorry.” Depression or not, Avery has to choose me.
Yes, I come with the constant fear of a black cloud lurking for a storm to brew.
I don’t know what it’s like for her to be experiencing this loss, but what I do know is that I have to handle it myself as well.
And right now, I have no fucking idea what to do.
Defeated, I offer her the only real thing that pumps through my veins. “I love you with all that I have.”
Her neck jerks away, allowing me to catch a glimpse of her side profile. Her cheeks are shiny with moisture, and pain overcomes her usual bright hazel-green eyes. “I love you, too, but I also love me.”
Fuck.
In a blur, she rises from my lap and gives me her back.
The echo of a slamming door is the last sound I hear before I drift into oblivion.