All Is Not Forgotten(59)

Sean was the most humble, modest man I have ever known. In spite of our stalled progress recovering his memories, he had been fighting like hell to control his behavior, to recognize his emotions, his “ghosts,” and order them to retreat before he punched more walls in his home. He had never hit his wife or his son. He would put a bullet in his own head before doing that. Still, it was terrifying to be around him when he lost control. When the ghosts won the fight.

He shrugged and looked down at the carpet.

“You need to own your success, Sean. What do you think has been helping you?”

I knew the answer. I was curious as to whether he would say it out loud.

I dunno.

“Can you describe one thing, maybe how you felt with your son at the baseball game? In the past, you were just going through the motions. Pretending to enjoy him so he wouldn’t feel rejected. Did it feel like that on Saturday?”

No. Not at all. There was this moment. Our team had bases loaded. I nudged him and said, “This is it, big guy! The bases are loaded!” And he got all wide eyed … stood up and grabbed the rail and started bouncing up and down. He started saying, “Oh boy! Oh boy!” And I was like, “Yeah, buddy! This is it, right?” He didn’t really know what that meant. I don’t think he understands anything that’s going on, really. But then he looked at me and he was still so overflowing with joy and he … he just couldn’t contain himself, like he was about to explode with joy … Sean’s voice started to tremble.

“It’s all right, Sean.” I said.

And with that permission, he teared up a little. Just a little, mind you. Uhhhh, Doc, I’m sorry. It’s just … it just overwhelmed me. I can still feel it.

“That’s really good, Sean. It’s good to feel things. I know we spend a lot of time trying not to feel things—the things that don’t belong inside you. But this does. This overwhelming joy belongs very much.”

Aw, man. Damn. I guess.

“What did Philip do then, after jumping up and down with joy?”

Sean grinned from ear to ear. He looked at me and he said … Aw, man … hold on a second.… Okay … he said … “Daddy! I just love you!”

A few more tears fell. I handed him a tissue. It was so beautiful. Even after my twisted weekend, the corruption of my very soul, I was still moved by the sight of this enormous, powerful man completely decimated by the love of his child.

“Sean,” I said. “What you’re feeling right now. This is good! This is love. You felt, and you still feel, love for your son. What else?”

I’m grateful, you know? Just so f*cking grateful. This little guy, this little life living in this crazy-ass world, and somehow I managed to fill him with joy. Just by driving an hour to Bridgeport and buying him a hot dog.

“Ah, but it wasn’t just that! Don’t you see? He felt your love for him and your desire to be with him, and that’s what filled him with joy! That connection. In this crazy-ass world, there is a big strong man who loves him, and so he knows he’ll be safe. He knows he’ll have a home—not walls and windows, but a home in another person’s heart. That is what it means to be human!”

Sean looked at me strangely, and I realized I had become far more emotional than I normally allow. I took a breath to contain myself. My nerves were frayed and now my guts were spilling out all over the room.

“The feelings you just had when you recalled this memory—do you see how our emotions and memories are connected?” I shifted gears quickly and with admirable precision.

Oh yeah. I’m sorry I lost it. Shit. I never cry, Doc. Never.

“And can you imagine just having that powerful feeling and not knowing why?”

Sean laughed. Yeah. I’d probably think I was in love with you or something, right, Doc?

I joined him in his laugh. “Indeed. Or a stranger on the street, perhaps. That would be very awkward.”

Yeah, I get it. I wouldn’t mind if this were one of the ghosts. This ghost could stick around.

“We could all use a little more spontaneous joy, I suppose. Do you want to work more on the memory recall?”

Yeah. Let’s do it.

I got up and walked to my desk to grab my laptop. We always worked with the simulation playing. “Okay. Can I ask you first … are you coming to group this week?”

I watched his face carefully. Group was where he saw Jenny. Neither of them had missed a session in the months since she joined.

Sure, yeah.

He was conspicuously nonchalant.

I had suspected they were growing closer. Not to disregard my efficacy, but there had been a drastic change in both their moods that did not correlate with the progress, or lack thereof, of the memory work. I had asked Jenny about him. Too often, I feared. She had started to wonder if what they were doing was wrong. I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

It wasn’t wrong. How could it be when it was helping them both? But they had progressed from texting and Skype to coffee and long walks. Sean was working odd jobs. Jenny was not in school. She rode her bike to town, and they were meeting there, in Fairview, then driving to places where they wouldn’t be recognized. Charlotte thought she was shopping or meeting friends. She was eager to see Jenny leave the house. She’d told me that Jenny seemed happy, truly happy, when she was going to town, so she never worried about her then. She was always back home in a couple of hours.