Remember When Page 17

  I tried to look away from her; tried not to acknowledge her, but I felt the carefully constructed walls that I had built when around other people start to crumble. “I tried to save you…but I was too late,” I whispered in a hoarse voice, my eyes returning to our hands as they twisted and twined together. “You stopped breathing. I tried—so hard—to bring you back.”

  “I know, baby. I know,” she whispered, freeing one of her hands to use the pad of her thumb to wipe my tears away.

  I took a deep, cleansing breath before I continued. “She was unresponsive to my efforts,” I said, this time speaking to Dr. Richards, whose eyes were wide having just witnessed me talking directly to my dead wife. “I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket and dialed 9-1-1. I tried time and time again to revive her. I even broke one of her ribs because I refused to stop chest compressions.”

  I looked back to Cassie, who was still holding my hand with one of hers and stroking my cheek with the other. She gave me a gentle smile. “I'm so proud of you, baby.”

  “No,” my father interjected quickly, looking between Dr. Richards and myself. “Jack, the paramedics…they were able to bring her back. She was in the hospital for a while before she… I'm so sorry.”

  “No, I remember. They got there and there was no pulse…” I shook my head, my eyes not once straying from Cassie. She gave me the strength I needed to continue. However, the look in her eyes told me that what my father was trying to tell me wasn't entirely untrue.

  When I looked back over at my dad, he looked at me sadly. “No. Son, you're not remembering everything…”

  Nothing.

  There was no sound coming from the monitor. I felt my entire world crumbling beneath me, and my legs started to tremble. The paramedics began to administer CPR, and I fisted my hair tightly in my hands, frustrated that I was unable to do anything.

  “Daddy?” The world snapped back into focus as the tiny voice called out from behind me. When I turned in the direction it came from, I saw Charlie standing in the doorway, her little pink blanket in her hands as she rubbed the sleep from her innocent eyes.

  “Bug, what are you doing out of bed?” I asked in a strangled whisper as I knelt to scoop her up into my arms. I whisked my two-year-old daughter out of the bedroom and out into the hall where she couldn't witness what was happening.

  “I hadda ba' dweam,” she mumbled sleepily as she rested her head on my shoulder.

  “Aw, baby. It's okay. Daddy's here.” I hugged her close to me and started moving back and forth until she dozed off again. I continued to coo “Daddy's here,” over and over again, and each time I said it, I knew that it would only ever be me…

  “I've got a pulse in here!” I heard a medic call out. When the words registered, my head snapped in the direction of the bathroom. I rushed back into the room with Charlie still cradled in my arms, to find Cassie still unconscious. The sounds coming from the machine weren't as steady as they should have been, but it was beeping, which meant her heart was beating.

  The rise and fall of her chest concerned me, as she seemed to be taking short and shallow breaths. I felt a minute feeling of relief wash through me. True, we weren't out of the woods, but this was a start. It had to be.

  The paramedics loaded her onto the gurney as they told me they were taking her to the hospital. Once they left, I loaded a sleeping Charlie into her car seat and followed the ambulance. I called my parents and let them know what was going on. They offered to come to the hospital and watch after Charlie while we waited. I was appreciative because I didn't know what to expect.

  She had a heartbeat, though. She was breathing. That had to be a good sign, right?

  “While they got her breathing and her heart beating again, the damage had already been done. She was in a coma for a few weeks before you had them take her off life support. She passed within hours of the order,” my dad explained solemnly.

  “I killed my wife,” I said breathlessly. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Richards shake his head and open his mouth to speak, but I cut him off as I continued to stare deep into Cassie's warm eyes. “Maybe not directly, but…I gave the order.”

  “It was what she wanted,” my mother spoke up, placing her hand on mine.

  Dr. Richards interrupted this time. “You feel as though you're wife's death is your fault? Like you pushed her over the edge?”

  “Didn't I? We said some pretty cruel things to one another. I left her alone after hours of fighting. I may as well have dumped the pills right into her waiting hands.”

  Cassie shook her head vehemently, disagreeing with everything I was saying. “Jack, no.”

  My parents were both stunned into silence beside me as they listened to what I was saying. My mother looked terrified, and I hoped it was fear of the situation and not of me. There was a long, heavy pause in the room, and I waited for anyone—Dr. Richards, my parents, or even Cassie—to say something else to me. But no one did. They waited until I spoke. What I had to say, though, wasn't toward them.

  I looked deep into Cassie's glistening eyes and spoke, pushing past my trembling voice. “The reason I can't let you go…” My mouth dried instantly and my voice cracked, so I cleared my throat before I felt I could continue. “The reason I can't let you go is because, if I do, you're gone. And when you're gone…it's because I let you die. I promised to protect you, and I let you down. You were my entire reason for existing. Admitting all of this makes your death real; and when you're not there… I don't feel whole. Cassie, I can't live in a world where you don't exist.”

  Tears fell from Cassie's eyes now. “Charlie is your reason. Live for her, Jack. None of this was your fault. Not once did I ever feel like you let me down. I let myself down. I was weak.”

  “Jack?” Dr. Richards forced his way into the conversation I was having with Cassie, and I turned to him. He looked at me with deep concern, and I was certain he could see the fear in my eyes.

  From a professional's standpoint, I was certifiable. I had no doubt that he was going to recommend they lock me up and throw away the key. The mere thought of this jolted me back to reality, and I thought of poor, sweet Charlie.

  “Yes,” Cassie whispered. “Think of her. Be there for her. She needs you.”

  I released Cassie's hand and turned away from her so I could face my doctor completely. “I want to be better,” I assured him. “For Charlie. I need to be better for her. I'm no good for her this way.”

  Dr. Richards smiled. “Then let's start from here.”

  Feeling completely overwhelmed from everything I’d learned in the last twenty-four hours, I sighed, running my hands over my face. “I don't know if I can talk about this anymore,” I admitted quietly.

  “Jack,” my mother prodded softly, laying her hand over top of mine once more. “We know this is hard for you—”

  “Mrs. Martin, if he doesn't want to talk right now, that's all right.” I shot Dr. Richards an appreciative smile as he jumped to my defense. My appreciation was short lived, though. “When did you guys start to notice that things seemed, well, for lack of a better word, off?”

  What an interesting question. Suddenly curious myself, I turned just in time to witness my parents’ exchange a glance. How long had this been going on? Had I been delusional since the day I found her? When did I breakdown?

  My eyes drifted down to where my father encased my mother's other hand within his own, and I listened as he spoke. “Not long, actually. Everything seemed…well, normal seems like a pretty inadequate term to be using considering everything that has happened to our family…”

  I had to agree with him there. What was normal, anyway?

  “When all of this first happened, Jack was completely beside himself with grief. It was as though he had lost the other half of his soul—”

  “I had,” I interrupted in a hoarse voice, my eyes catching Cassie's once more. My mother squeezed my hand gently in an attempt to comfort me, but all I could do was offer the room a gloomy smile and squeeze
her back in assurance.

  “We know,” she breathed softly.

  There was an overwhelming silence in the room as, I assumed, my father didn't know how to proceed after my interruption. Finally, he cleared his throat and resumed what he was saying. “It took some time for him to come to terms with Cassie's actions that day; but he did. He's been a fantastic father to Charlie.”

  “So, when did you and your wife suspect that he had relapsed?”

  My face scrunched at Dr. Richards's choice of words. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said in rapid succession, shaking my head and clenching my eyes shut. “Relapsed would mean that I'd have originally had to have…oh, I don't know, lapsed.”

  When no one said a word, dread settled in my veins like cement, weighing me down.

  Chapter 18 | The Pain of Healing

  I heard my parents both swallow thickly, and Cassie dropped her gaze. “Oh, God,” I exhaled.

  “It, um…” My mother scrambled for words, turning from my father to face me completely. She bent her left leg and propped it up on the couch between us as she took both of my hands in hers. “It started about a week after the, um, the funeral. Your father and I had plans to come over to visit you and Charlie and—”

  The memory hit me so hard that, had it been physical, it would have knocked me on my ass.

  Charlie was upstairs in her room, napping, while I stood at the sink washing up the dishes we had dirtied at lunchtime. Every sound I made when I placed the clean dishes in the drying rack echoed through the empty house, reminding me that halls that were once filled with her laughter wouldn't be…for a very long time.

  I was unaware of how many days had passed since… since… Ugh, I couldn't even think it without my entire body trembling with anxiety. I dropped the plate that was in my hand and it sunk to the bottom of the soapy water as I clung to the side of the sink basin to keep from falling to the floor. I stared at the bubbles that floated on the surface of the water for longer than any sane person should have, but the way the bubbles continued to pop and disappear as though they'd never existed was…depressing, and I could feel my chest tighten. Cassie was gone. She was just—

  “How was your day?” The sound of her voice startled me; I hadn't been expecting her…at all, actually. I closed my eyes tightly because I knew this couldn't be real. Slowly, I turned around, and when I opened my eyes, Cassie was seated at the island, her arms folded atop the marble countertop. Her smile was bright and familiar.

  In an instant, every feeling of grief left my body. I dropped the hand towel I was using to dry my hands and ran around the island, sweeping Cassie off the stool she was perched upon and swung her around the room.

  “You're home!” I exclaimed between feather-light kisses. “You have no idea how much I've missed you. Charlie's been asking about you. I…I didn't know what to tell her,” I confessed, releasing my hold on her just a little; I never wanted to let her go again.

  Cassie sighed, prying herself from my arms and backing away. Her eyebrows knit together, and she spoke quietly. “The truth, Jack. You should tell her the truth.”

  “How…?” I shook the new memory from my mind. “How long was the first episode?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

  Mom shrugged slightly, squeezing my hands in hers. “We can't be one hundred percent certain, but I'd say about a week. You called us that afternoon and said we should come over another time. After everything that had happened, we understood that you probably weren't ready for company, so we agreed. We never thought…” She allowed her words to trail off as I absorbed what she was telling me.

  With my eyebrows still pressed together, I bobbed my head slowly. “And, when you found out the first time…? What happened? Was I here before?”

  My dad interjected. “No. What happened before was much less severe than this time. Last time, you knew what was real. But this time… Well, you seem to have created a world where Cassie still exists. Where she didn't—”

  I closed my eyes tightly and shifted my head away from him. “I'm going to ask you not to finish that sentence. I… I can't hear it again.” The pain of his impending words struck me, and I had to stop him before I broke down even more. I had already come to terms with what happened; but one could only take so much in a day.

  “Of course,” he said softly. “The day we found out, we had just arrived to pick up Charlie for the weekend. You were in the kitchen, and we could hear you talking.” I opened my eyes and glanced back at him as he began to tell me the story. “At first we thought you were talking to Charlie, but as we got closer, we knew that wasn't the case…”

  “So, what do you want to do this weekend?” I asked Cassie as she sat on the countertop before me. The way her eyebrows arched with confusion made me chuckle. “Charlie is going to my parents’ place, so it'll just be you and me.”

  The last few days having Cassie back with me this way was…a relief. Like nothing ever happened to take her away from me. It was just her and me, and I wouldn't have had it any other way. I wouldn't share her with anyone even if I could have.

  “Oh,” she said with a smile, relaxing her forehead. “Well, I'd suggest going out, but…”

  “Right,” I rushed to agree. “Good call. Movie night, then?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Jack?” My mother's voice appeared out of nowhere, causing me to turn frantically to where she and my father had just entered the kitchen. “Sweetheart, who are you talking to?”

  I looked from Cassie to my parents, and Cassie's face reflected the sorrow that I felt inside. Like on some level we knew this—us—would never last. “I…um…” I dropped my head into my hands and confessed everything to them.

  “When you told us that Cassie had come back to you, we were more than concerned. It was discovered that you weren't sleeping, and you were suffering anxiety attacks that brought on your delusions of Cassie returning.” I continued to stare blankly at my father as he reminded me of just how broken I was two years ago.

  “This wasn't the first time I've been medicated,” I announced, knowing without a doubt that I was right. Flashes of me taking pills several times a day came and went through my memory. “It's the Librium that keeps her away from me.” I was suddenly angry. At them for taking her away from me. At myself for both allowing them to, and not being strong enough to let her go on my own.

  “We hadn't realized you had come off of them recently,” my mother confessed in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “We suspect it was the impending anniversary to…well, everything that set you off.”

  I had just arrived at my parents' place after a particularly exhausting workday. Sometimes I found it quite emotionally draining to do what I did. I was quite looking forward to getting Charlie home and spending some time with her before I put her to bed so I could just relax.

  On the drive to the house, I had this nagging feeling like I was forgetting something I had to do, but I couldn't put my finger on it. By the time I pulled into the driveway, I had all but given up trying to remember whatever it was I forgot. My focus was on seeing my baby girl—who wasn't really a baby, anymore.

  As always, she greeted me with so much enthusiasm when she opened the door and leapt into my arms. She was the light that kept me going. It had been almost two years since our lives spiraled out of control, but Charlie kept my feet planted firmly on the ground.

  Our night was fairly routine. We would eat dinner, Charlie would have a bath, we'd read a bedtime story, and then I would put her to bed. However, when I was alone, I was at my worst. Yes, almost two years had passed, but not a moment went by that I didn't think about Cassie. In fact, two weeks from today would mark the one month countdown to the second anniversary of the day we lost the baby. That was the day that started it all…

  Knowing Charlie was sound asleep, I stood from the couch, flicked off the television, and headed for bed. As I made my way toward the stairs, I swear I heard my name being whispered, and every hair on my body stood on end. Whi
le most normal people would have been a little freaked out by this, there was something about this particular whisper that calmed me. I stood as still as a statue and waited for it again. When I didn't hear the soft voice, I shook my head, chalking it up to exhaustion, and moved up the stairs slowly to pull my weary body into bed.

  After I quickly changed into my pajamas, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take my medication. I placed my toothbrush into the holder and opened the medicine cabinet to grab my prescription bottle.

  “Shit,” I mumbled when I opened it to find it empty. I had completely forgotten that I had taken my last dose the night before last, and was meaning to pick up a refill…on my way home from work…tonight. “I knew I was forgetting something.”

  With muttered promises to myself to pick up my prescription tomorrow, I exited the bathroom to go to bed. As I pulled the blankets back and crawled beneath them, I froze and listened… really listened. Coming from Charlie's room was a quiet melody of whispered song lyrics.

  “Cassie?” Just as soon as her name left my lips, the soothing sound of her voice stopped. That night, I had trouble falling asleep because I kept waiting to see if I would hear her again—which I didn't; and when I finally did doze off, it was a completely restless sleep.

  The next morning, my mind was going a mile a minute. I couldn't stop thinking about how I thought I heard Cassie the night before. Though I knew it to be impossible, there was this tiny part of me that wanted it to be true. Then I got to thinking what life would have been like if Cassie was still around…

  My mind was so preoccupied with those thoughts that my day went by fast. Work came and went; dinner and playtime with Charlie seemed to fly by faster than I would have liked; and the whole time I was thinking about Cassie. Charlie was the mirror image of her mother in so many ways, too. Her big, blue eyes; the way she pulled her plump lower lip between her teeth; even the way she overanalyzed everything she did was pure Cassie.