A Missing Heart(60)

I make my way through two magazines while I sit and wait for the doc to come out and talk to me, but I’m growing more uncomfortable by the minute, as I’ve now seen a woman being dragged into her room, crying and screaming. A man has run through the halls completely naked, and a teenage girl tried her hand at sneaking out.

“Mr. Cole?” a doctor asks, turning a nearby corner. I nod my head, and he says, “Come with me,” tilting his head for me to follow him. Silently, we walk down the hall until we reach an office, where he closes the door behind me. “Have a seat.”

I take a seat across from his oversized, dark wooden desk and interlace my fingers together, squeezing my hands tightly while I anxiously wait for him to talk. “We’ve done a number of tests on Tori, and everything has come back clear, which means there is nothing physically attributing to her disorder. It seems to be purely caused by trauma.”

“Yes,” I agree. “I would believe that’s correct.”

“Are you aware of the traumatic event that seems to have started her illness? She has given me permission to speak with you about it.”

“I am now. She told me everything, I think, last night.”

The doctor nods his head with understanding. “Our head psychiatrist was also able to have a breakthrough with her last night, as well. It definitely helps us to have a clearer picture of what we’re dealing with, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Of course,” I say.

“While trauma affects each person differently, it’s harsher when the trauma occurs during childhood, as adults have better coping mechanisms than children do. Tori has an extreme case of post-traumatic-stress disorder, and while we were somewhat aware of this fact, we are coming to learn how serious it is at this point.” The doctor leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head, expelling a long breath.

“What’s the plan now, then?” I ask, leaning forward, needing to find a way to get more air into my lungs.

“We’ve suggested keeping her here and placing her into another rehab program, which she has agreed to, but this time, we’re going to need to work together to come up with a long-term plan that will allow Tori to heal properly, which could prolong the length, as well as the quality, of her life.”

“What would something like that be?” I ask.

“Mr. Cole,” he begins. “Typically, I’m pretty big on family and keeping them together. I have a wife and three kids, so that’s where my head usually is. But, Tori’s trigger is your son. For a reason neither of us can fully comprehend, motherhood has been detrimental to her mental health. Technically, one could argue that the loss of her mother and sister should have nothing to do with you or your son, but Tori is channeling parts of her mother, while also focusing on the death of her sister, which she takes full blame for. At least that’s the conclusion we have currently come to.”

I recoil a bit, taking in everything he’s saying. “What are you saying?” He’s telling me the same thing she said to me last night. Not that this very same thought hasn’t entered my mind a few times this past year, but I’ve tried my hardest to stand by her side through the many thin parts of our marriage.

“Like I said, this is not a normal situation, AJ, and we’re talking about the health and safety of your wife.”

“Can I talk to her about this?” I ask. Not that she didn’t make it all clear last night, but I need to hear it when she’s calm and not speaking through raging emotions.

“Sure,” he says. “I just wanted to have this conversation first so things weren’t shocking if you hear it from her.”

“This isn’t a surprise,” I assure him. “They said she was in confinement? I didn’t realize that was something you did here.”

He nods, while standing up with a file of papers. “Yes, she was not compliant this morning and still searching for a method to take her own life. It was for her own safety.”

“Is it safe to speak with her? I mean, for her sake?”

“You’ll be supervised in a safe room. You can follow me.”

I feel like my mind should have caught up to this reality by now, but I’m still having a real hard time wrapping my head around it.

Following the doctor down several hallways, we turn in to a large a room with mirrors and a table with two chairs. This feels like some kind of sick joke.

He opens his arm, motioning me to walk in. “Tori will be in momentarily. You can have a seat, facing away from the mirror.”

The door closes behind me and I immediately feel confined, smothered, and imprisoned. I have no idea who or how many people are watching me on the other side of this mirror and I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing.

A few minutes pass and the door opens. Tori is escorted in by a nurse and seated in front of me as if she were a prisoner too. “If you need anything, raise your hand, and we will be in to assist you.” Reality sets in as I realize how things have progressed overnight. It’s out of my realm of comprehension.

Tori looks nearly unfamiliar without her makeup, and her hair is a mess. The whites of her eyes are a light pink and her cheeks match in color. When she places her hands down on the table, they’re shaking, and she’s having a hard time looking at me. “I’m your husband,” I tell her. “You can look at me, Tori.” I bow my head trying to catch her attention. She must be filled with drugs right now because all of her movements are sluggish and delayed.