Juicy (18 page)

“No, there’s not anything wrong. I…” He closed the door and they stood there watching him expectantly. “I just needed to talk to you.”

Dad watched him with big, accepting eyes. “Well…Troy that’s fine. You come home whenever you want, but son…you could have just called. It’s a long way from Cincinnati.”

Troy blushed. “It can wait until morning.” He took in a deep breath. “Mom, dad, go back to bed and I’ll-”

Mom was frowning. “Troy, what’s wrong? No one’s going to sleep now that we’re up.”

“Right.” Dad patted his shoulder and led him to the kitchen. “Come on, we’ll have some coffee and you tell us what’s got you all wound up.”

Troy followed them and his mother moved about the kitchen making the coffee and his dad retrieved a coffee cake from the refrigerator and began cutting big slices of it.

“What brings you home, son?” He prompted.

“I’m going to be a Dad.”

His mother put down the coffee pot that she had been filling with water from the tap. She turned to her son. “You and…Chubby? Was that her name?”

“Juicy.”

“Ahh! Juicy. She’s going to have a baby.” His mother seemed very thoughtful.

“Congratulations.” Dad said, seeming genuinely happy.

“Yes, congratulations.” His mother responded brightly.

Dad was staring at him hard. “You don’t seem very happy, Troy. Is there a problem?”

He tapped his fingers absently along the table. “Yes…I’m a-afraid.”

Dad didn’t so much as crack an understanding smile. He nodded his head. “Good.”

Troy gave him a confused look.

“Being a father is tough work, and it’s scary, but it’s worth every trial and tribulation. Being a father is the biggest joy in life.” Troy’s head ducked. He was silently thinking that it’s good unless you get stuck with a fucked up kid like him. His father reached out and touched beneath his chin. He gently lifted his son’s head. The look he gave him was filled with so much love that Troy was momentarily overwhelmed.

“The fact that you’re afraid tells me how much you want to be a good father.” He placed a slice of coffee cake on a plate and slid it to his son. “Tell me, why did you come home, though?”

Troy used his fingers to pick at a corner of the pastry and popped it into his mouth. Yuck. It was store bought and tasted like it was filled with tons of preservatives. Maybe tomorrow he’d make them a real made-from-scratch coffee cake.

“I want to get back on medication.”

Now this time his father looked shocked. He gave him an incredulous look. “Troy…”

Mom sat down hard. “Honey, I thought you said that you always felt that you weren’t bipolar. I mean, I believe that’s true. I don’t think that you ever were. Later, when I thought back on it all, it just seemed that they wanted to fill you up with as many things as they could; almost like they were rolling the dice.” Troy gave her a surprised look. He never thought that his Mother had an opinion about what was going on with the medication. Even now, he had thought that she was Dad’s parakeet—and if he should change his mind about everything, then so would she. But the look on her face showed so much regret.

“Back then, your Dad and I thought that we should just trust the doctors without question. Now I know better.” Dad reached over and hugged her briefly.

After a moment Troy spoke. “I know I’m not bipolar. That’s not what I want the medication for.”

“Okay.” His father waited for him to continue.

“But I have tics, and migraines which I can live with; but not the seizures.”

“I didn’t think that the seizures were ever that bad. I mean, a few times you had a large one but most times no one knows you’re even having one.” His mother’s expression was speculative.

Troy nodded. “Yes.” He had several a day, but because all he mainly did was to stare off into space, most people thought that he was wool-gathering or didn’t realize that he had drifted off at all, especially since they only lasted less than even a minute.

“I’ve done so many odd jobs over the years that I felt pretty comfortable in doing the rehab on the shop; especially when I called in some of my buddies. I know a few guys that worked on houses for Habitat.” Habitat for Humanity built houses to give away to needy families. “Some had helped down in Louisiana after Katrina and some had worked as dry-wallers and non union laborers so I was pretty confident that we could put the place together without much effort.

“You should have seen the place before we gutted it.” But somehow Juicy had looked at it, and even though it was nothing more than a rat trap, had seen all of its potential. But the bones had been good and they had been able to transform it completely.

“The place has ten foot high tin ceilings that we wanted to preserve. I was up on a ladder with an electric reciprocating saw trying to cut away an area that we wanted inset lighting.” Dad grimaced.

“One minute I was holding an electrical tool in my hand. The next thing I remember is lying on the floor with an electric saw resting on my crotch. Luckily the safety had engaged when I’d plunged to the floor. Had that not happened, well I probably wouldn’t be fathering anymore babies.” His father gave him an incredulous look, while his mother dropped her head into the palms of her hands.

“I was okay. I had a huge lump on the back of my head and I had knocked myself silly, but…I never told Juicy. About three other times I had similar incidents. I stayed off ladders and away from power tools as much as possible, but I spilled a wheelbarrow of wet concrete into the grass out front.” They’d been trying to repair the walkway. Instead they had spent three hours digging up the lone patch of grass before the concrete hardened.

“Another time, I woke up in a pile of fresh drywall mud, not to mention the countless times I missed calls, deliveries, or had friends ready to deck me because they thought I was ignoring them.” He sighed and Mom stood and retreated to the coffee. She placed a steaming hot mug of it in front of him while Dad grabbed sugar and cream.

“I..um, don’t want to be holding a baby…”

His father gave him a quick, understanding look. He nodded. “I see.”

“I want to take medicine in order to control the seizures and the tics and headaches if possible.”

“How often do you have them?” He asked as he sat down with his own mug of coffee.

“Three a day isn’t abnormal. I might go some days without any. And some days, depending on what I’m going through, I might have five or six.”

“Okay.” Dad sighed. “You’re definitely going to need to do something about them for the sake of the baby, but for your own sake, as well.” He watched his son curiously. “Is this what had you scared? Not that you’d need anything else, but…”

Troy looked around restlessly. “I don’t…” He shrugged. “What kind of a father will I make?” He stared at each of them. When he awoke from a seizure, he didn’t know what was real or what wasn’t. And he knew that he looked at life in a strange way. Would his kid be ashamed of him? Maybe the kid wouldn’t want to bring his friend’s around because Troy would be making all of these oddball points about traps and invisible people. Maybe his kid would wish that he had a different father!

“Troy,” his mother’s fork was cutting through her slice of cake. “No one that meets you could resist loving you.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as if that should be the least of his worries when it ranked up high, almost at the top of his worry list. His eyes shifted to his father who had just scooped more cake into his mouth.

“You’re being a good father right now because I know how much you hate the idea of medication. So, don’t you worry about that, kid. You will be a great father.”

He sighed in relief. And this is the reason that he had come home. So that he could get reassurance from his parents.

They didn’t talk much longer. His parent’s offered to make some calls and to find him a good doctor, and he had felt good enough to go upstairs and to drop exhaustedly into bed. He considered calling Juicy but decided that since she got up so early, he definitely didn’t want to get her out of bed any earlier then she had to. He would call her when he got up. He ended up sleeping late in the evening and that’s when his parent’s broke the bad news to him.

It would take several weeks and in some cases even months, before any of the neurological specialists that they’d been referred to would be able to see him. And everyone that they talked to agreed that he shouldn’t even waste his time with a general practitioner unless he wanted to risk the same things happening as it had when he was a kid; inaccurate medications. Besides, for something like this, even a family doctor would refer him to a specialist.

Still, his parents continued to make calls and made appointments anyway even though they were sixty and sometimes ninety days down the line. Feeling disappointed and anxious, Troy wondered what in the hell people did when they had an emergency and couldn’t wait? Didn’t the fact that he had a baby on the way constitute an emergency?

Thinking about Juicy and her being pregnant still made him anxious, but behind it was an awe and a joy that they’d created something special together. He went back up to his room and called her. He hadn’t intended to make her wait all day, but he had not realized that he would sleep so deeply.

At the last minute he decided to leave a message on the answering machine instead of calling her cell. He had visions of her yelling at him in front of the customers…or worse, not yelling at him and just sounding disappointed.

He cleared his voice nervously and waited for her recorded message that ended with, ‘have a blessed day.’

“Hi, Juice.” He began pacing in his small bedroom. “Sorry that I left the way I did. It’s not you or…th-the pr-pregnancy. I needed to…” He paused. “…I needed to get some things straight in my head. So I decided to go back home. I’m at my parent’s house now. I know you’re at the shop and I know you won’t be happy when you get this message.”

He swallowed past a guilty lump in his throat, “…which is why I guess that I’m leaving it on voicemail instead of calling your cell phone. But I’ll be back as soon as I get things straightened out.” He was going to have to tell her about his talk with his parents, but not over the answering machine. He sighed not knowing what else to say to the machine. “I’ll call you later. I love you.” He said softly.

***

Lorie and her husband stopped by for dinner with their children and Bob showed up without his wife and two kids. Troy knew that he hadn’t made a very good impression on her. But he had extended an apology to her via Bob. He wanted to be a positive part of Bob’s family and that meant that maybe it was a good idea that she wasn’t here right now, anyways.

Either Mom or Dad had already stolen his thunder by telling them that he was going to be a father. He watched them carefully and his siblings seemed honestly happy for him.

“When do we get to meet your Baby’s Momma?” His brother joked and everyone grimaced.

“Well, this is probably not a good time,” an understatement of a lifetime.

After dinner, they went to the family room and turned on a movie and talked. He was having a good time until Lorie began talking about her kid’s school. It wasn’t the topic, but what happened while he was listening. He felt something in him slip sideways—it was the only way that he knew to describe the sensation. There was a ‘wrongness’ though no pain or discomfort.

Then the next thing he knew, the room was quiet and all eyes were on him. He gulped down a deep breath as if he might have forgotten to breathe momentarily. He didn’t need to look around and meet the unsure stares of his family. This part was something he was used to; the looks of concern or fear, maybe even embarrassment for him.

Their looks let him know that he had just undergone another seizure. That seemed to mark the end of the party and everyone slowly drifted towards the door with sincere goodbyes and promises to have him out to their houses. After seeing them out the door, he went up to his old room and fired up the old computer. He couldn’t be the only one that was in an emergency situation…where do people go when they need emergency help?

There was only one constant and that was seventy-two hour hold. He couldn’t believe how backwards everything had gotten. He went down the stairs and into the family room where his parent’s were watching television. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say when he had been afraid for so many years that they would do to him what he was contemplating doing to himself now.

“Mom, Dad. I’m going to check myself into seventy-two hour hold.”

Both of his parents looked at him stunned. Dad turned off the television. “Troy…”

“I know, but I’ve talked to a representative from the Mental Health Alliance.” He explained the conversation and his reasons. Because he would not be able to see a doctor specializing with his issues for several weeks, and since he’d had problems with mental illness, that if he checked himself into 72 hour hold he would get an emergency evaluation and medication. This would be the quickest way to get the necessary referral so that he could see a specialist.

“It’s completely voluntary, so that means that I can actually leave at anytime, even before the seventy-two hours expires.”

“Have you talked to your girlfriend about this decision?” His Mom asked, her eyes full of worry.

Troy shoved his hands into his pockets. “No.” He admitted. No one spoke. “I’ll tell her tomorrow.” He checked the clock. It was getting late. Tomorrow he’d talk to her and maybe then she would have lost that hurt look about her—the one that he’d seen just before he walked out the door. Tomorrow he’d tell her that he was trying to make a way for them and that it wouldn’t be easy but that he loved her and he loved their unborn baby; he loved them so much that he was willing to commit himself to get right.