When It Rains: The Umbrella Collection (17 page)

“I’m surprised they are still speaking to you, you bitch,” the
voice
said.  I took at deep breathe.  I can’t deal with hearing it right now.  It began to rabble on and on about how much I need to work up enough guts to just kill myself already.  It came up with its own plan.  It told me to take the bed sheets and wrap it around the shower head and then hang myself from it.  It was haunting me and not letting me take any steps forward.  I was too vulnerable to hear this, so I decided to listen to Dr. Rosenberg and use the technique she told me. 

For some reason, the first song that popped into my head was “Tomorrow”
 from the musical “Annie”.  I, at first, started out at a whisper, “The sun will come out tomorrow,” but the
voice
upped its volume, so I did, too. “Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow.  There’ll be sun.”  The
voice
and I had a tug-a-war with the volume until I forgot about what time it was and I sat straight up in bed and screamed, “TOMORROW. TOMORROW. I LOVE YA. TOMORROW. YOU’RE ALWAYS A DAY A…,” my finale was interrupted by three nighttime nurses bursting through my door with urgency. They said they thought I was getting murdered or something.  After I told them what I was doing and that it was under doctor’s orders to do so, they left my room laughing at me.  The surprisingly thing was, I didn’t hear the
voice
any more.  It conceded and I, along with my singing voice, was victorious.           

1
3

Apologies

    “Don’t get too ahead of yourself here, there are rules.” My smile became slightly less bright and I sat intensely listening, “You have to take your medication, ALL your medication at the times directed and only the times directed.  You have to stop taking all other pills.  No other pills, including aspirin can be in your hands or in your system.  If you need any just ask Pops or someone and they will give you the amount that you need.  You have to see me once a week along with a therapist and do as we say.  But, I would like it if you saw them more than once a week in the beginning.  You must eliminate all people from your life that cause you harm; friends or family, anyone.  The slightest hiccup, the more difficult it will be and the first time you break any of these rules will be the second time you see the inside of a mental ward.  Understand and agree?” Dr. Gable said as he sat in front of me two weeks later.  He let me know that I was able to leave and try living in the real world and see how things go. 

“I understand and I agree.”
 

 
“This isn’t for you to take lightly.  We are very serious and we trust that you are, too,” he said and I nodded my head so he knew that I agreed, “Well, start packing.  I’m going to go write your discharge orders.”  I smiled at him as he left and he smiled back.

I jumped out of bed and made a beeline for my clothes and threw them in a bag then ran to the payphones the
y had for us patients to use. I called Skylar and Pops to let them know I was free.

I wasn’t lying I was going to fight this; Fight the depression, fight the pain, and fight the
voice
.  I am determined to have my birthday wish come true.  I want happiness to enter my life and for me to embrace it.  It has voiced its opinion a few times a day, but so far I have been able to hold it at bay.

I was even more eager to get out because Suzie, the one person other than the nurses and doctors
that I talked to, had a breakdown.  She was running around throwing things and screaming at the nurses last night.  I woke up this morning and she was sitting watching TV and I called her name to say hello, but she just cocked her head to the side and stared.  As I walked closer, she looked out of it; her eyes were glassy and there were new scratches on her face with scabs forming.  Her arms were tied at her forearms to the arms of the chair and her legs were bound at her ankles.  I’m not going to lie; she looked freaky.  I tried talking to her, but she acted like she didn’t know me and started yelling at me to get away from her.  So, I did. 

After I was finished packing, Brian came to pick me up and I signed a few papers and said goodbye to the doctors and nurses.
  I was ready to get out of there.  Brian came to pick me up and I was so happy to see him and his smile.  He had the smile Pops has where his eyes twinkle in the light.  As I walked through those double doors through the reception area and opening the glass doors, the feeling of freedom overwhelmed me.  I could taste it and when I felt the cool breeze blow my hair in the air and the warm sun rays hitting my skin; I felt exhilarated.

Brian and I got in the car and began driving home.
  My fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the orange band that was still circling my wrist.  It had my name, birthdate, and patient ID number on it.  I tried to squeeze my hand through to remove it and tried ripping it off, but neither worked.  It’s there until I find a pair of scissors.  So, I just circled it around and around my wrist.  Brian reached for the volume button on the radio and turned it down making it inaudible. 

He turned to me and told me how he ran into Mr. Garrison.
  Jack told Brian about our conversation that we had; the one where I told him to go fuck himself. He wasn’t too happy about it.  Brian said Jack was hurt by my words and I told him how he just wanted to know information about me to spread it around to everyone. 

“And, he told me that I need to find God,” I added

“What’s so bad with that?” Brian asked.

“Who is he to say that I don’t have God in my life?
  Because I don’t talk about it or go around trying to recruit people?”

“Maybe, he just assumes that people with problems lack religion in their lives.
  I don’t know.  What I do know is that when I go to church I can breathe easier.  I can go and talk with no judgments.”

“Is that a joke?”
 I asked getting a little heated, “You are being judged constantly.  If you don’t go on Sunday, you are judged.  If you commented a sin, even the slightest, you are judged, even though ninety nine percent of the people there have sinned.  If you don’t put enough money in the collection plate, you are being judged!”

“Maybe, but you aren’t judged by HIM though.”

“Yes, you are.  HE is in charge right?  So, he pretty much wrote the handbook,” I began to say, “Listen, I speak to HIM and I believe HE listens.  I believe HE is guiding me through my life.  I have questioned HIM, his existence and his strength.  Your God may not let you ask questions, but my God does.  He hears me on whatever day at whatever time wherever I want him to.  If I want to go to a Kabbalah meeting, I will.  If I want to be a little loony and learn Scientology, I will.  If I want to have a seat in the Catholic Church I will.  If I want to sit on the toilet and pray to God I will do just that and you know what?  My God listens.  So I beg everyone to stop trying to convert me and let me believe in the God that I want to.”

“Are you done?”

“No, my God understands if I need to take a step away from HIM to reflect on myself and welcomes me with open arms when I come back.  My God tells me to live for myself, not for HIM, to carry him in my heart, but live for myself.”

“How long have you been holding
all that in?” Brian questioned with a smirk.

“Whew, a while.
  I don’t understand why people have to piss me off all the time,” I said jokingly, “And while I’m on a roll, I should apologize to you for what I said at dinner that one night when you guys wanted to talk to me. I was backed into a corner and I just said all that to get out.”

“I know and thanks for the apology. And, I’m sorry, too, if you felt we were ganging up on you.
  That was the only way we could come up with. You probably should spread that apology around.  We were all kind of hurt by what you said.”

“I will.”

We pulled into the driveway and I couldn’t believe how beautiful the house looked.  It’s as if I never noticed the olive green paint and dark purple trim or how the enormous willow trees on each side of the house both arched inward, cocooning the house.  The red and blue rockers that sat on the porch clashed with the rest of the house, but I loved it in a quirky way.  I walked up the walkway through the Snowdrops and sat on the red rocker. 

I swayed back and forth while I sat and thought a
bout the past day’s events.  My mind kept going back to the things that I said at the dinner table that night.  Thinking about speaking those mean things to the people that I love the most and that were trying to help me burned in my heart.  I felt horrible for doing it.  I was glad that Brian accepted my apology so easily.  I just hope that the rest will do the same.  I repositioned myself on the rocker with my legs dangling over the side and my head using the other arm as a very uncomfortable pillow and contemplated how I was going to do all this apologizing when I very easily fell into a deep sleep.

I was awoken by a rap of thunder and I jumped out of my seat
to hurry inside. The house was full of noise; a ballgame was on in the family room where my cousins were shouting at the TV and then to each other while Brian was trying to nap beside them.  In the dining room Pops was reading aloud a newspaper article to Mike about the factory that they once worked at laying off 25 more workers, John and Alex were loudly putting away the dishes and fighting about a bet they made on a football game from last year that they still can’t get over.

No one noticed me as I made my way down the hallway taking in the scenery of the house that I missed so much. 
I stepped into the kitchen where the clanks of the contact between plates and bowls were echoing.

“Hey guys.”

“Hey, welcome home!” John said and Alex turned to the refrigerator.

“Here, we set aside a plate for you,” Alex uttered as he handed me a plate filled with the goodness of a home cooked spaghetti meal that he just retrieved from the frig.

“Oh, thanks.  I must have been asleep out there for a while, huh?” I replied.

“Oh, yeah.
  We tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t budge,” Alex said

I unwrapped the wrapping that was covering my food and sat down on a stool to eat at the center island. I sat there watching them busily clean up the mess searching for the right time to speak up and say sorry.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked.

“I’m good,” I said back knowing that this was my chance, “Um, I’m sorry about the things I said to you before at dinner. I was angry and it just came out. I don’t really think that.”

By this time they had both stopped what they were doing and turned to me. Alex was standing on one side of the dishwasher where he was waiting for the next dish from John, who with his back against the sink, was now wiping his hands on a cloth to dry them.

“It’s alright. I certainly didn’t appreciate what you said, even if it is true.
  This is my life and if I choose to stay in a closet then I will.  Got it?” 

“Got it,” I replied.

John glanced back and forth between us, as Alex and I moved our eyes to his, awaiting his response. “What? We all know what she said about me is the truth. I’m a whore,” and he threw his hands up as if there was no fight to be had.

We all laughed along together and they continued on with the dishes as I finished up eating. When I was done I knew there was one more room I had to stop
in to mend my wrongdoings.  That was the dining room.

As soon as I stepped my foot inside, Mike held up his hand and shushed me, “We know you are deeply sorry,” he said mockingly, “You love us very much and you will never say any of that ever again. Is that the gist of it?”

“Yup, that’ll do,” I answered back with a nod, pucker of my lips and a shrug of the shoulders.

“Good, we love you, too. Go tell your cousins to shut the hell up.”

As I turned to walk away Pops yells out, “Hey Nor.”

“Yea, Pops?”

“What you said about everyone was the truth. However, your delivery needs some work.”

“Yeah, I know.
”.

“Welc
ome home,” he said with a smirk before I walked out to fulfill my duty of quieting down the boys

“Thanks,”
 I said back with a smile and began to walk down to the family room, “Will you guys shut the hell up?!"

14

Who Knew?

    I awoke the next morning thirsty for some of Pop’s fresh squeezed orange juice. I often wonder why the hell that man squeezes the oranges every morning instead of just buying a carton of it. I hold back from ever asking him because I don’t want him to stop.  It tastes so good.  As I got up, I threw on my Dad’s raggedy old sweatshirt and headed downstairs. I reached in the frig to grab the OJ, poured myself a glass and gulped it down. As I was about to let out a nice big “AHHHHH”, I was startled by the house phone ringing. I reluctantly picked it up, knowing full well who it was going to be.  She typically calls at this time every day.