Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15)(48)
My voice gets louder because now I’m angry. “I’d like to know why it is that when someone is depressed, it becomes a problem about the person having a lack of character or a lack of fortitude or something to be embarrassed about. If someone seeks out medication for depression, that person grows stronger, because his or her illness is being treated. Depression is an illness, people. It’s not a lack of conviction and it’s not a lack of mental fortitude. It’s a disease. And it should be treated with just as much aggression as any other disease. So, yes, people who suffer from depression do often take medication.
“But my prescription history is none of your business, and if I did take medication, it would be none of your business, just like high blood pressure pills and insulin would be none of your business. Your only question to me should be ‘Are you getting treatment, Ms. Vasquez?’ Yes, I am getting treatment. My days are no longer dark, because I sought treatment. I didn’t look at my illness as a lack of self-awareness, a lack of mental acuity, or a lack of conviction. I looked at it as what it was. It was a medical issue. I got treatment. I am better.”
I clear my throat again. And the room is silent.
“My family and friends probably didn’t understand why I would agree to stand here and take questions on such a delicate subject. Here’s why.” I point to the monitor. “If you there at home feel like you have nothing left to live for, if you don’t have one thing to look forward to or a reason to get out of bed, there are treatments available. There are doctors who can help. Don’t stay home and not seek help because it makes you feel weak to ask for help. Ask. For. Help. Treat your brain with as much sympathy as you would treat your heart, lungs, or any other organ in your body that needs medication. Because isn’t it the same thing? If parts of our bodies are sick, we make them better by seeing the right kind of doctor. Go. Do it. Get better.” I look at my family, and Ryan. “It does get better. I promise.”
I hold up my arms. “I used to have ugly scars that I hid from the world. You’ve all seen them since they’ve now been plastered everywhere. They are still there, underneath the beautiful ink. What was once an ugly reminder of my darkest days are now full of color… full of hope, love, a future, and a past. Do not let depression define or control you.”
I give out a phone number for a counseling hotline I know does good work. Then I thank everyone for attending.
I walk off the stage and stop in front of Ryan. “How did I do?”
“Will you marry me?” he asks, tilting his head.
My heart bumps in my chest, but not with fear. “Yes.”
“When?”
“Whenever you want.”
He takes my hand and we walk out together amid all the camera pops and flashes. “I could hold your hand forever,” I tell him.
“Count on it,” he replies.
Ryan
Three months later
I cover my head as birdseed pelts us outside the church, trying to protect Lark from it as much as I can, but she just laughs and pushes toward the limo that’s waiting for us. The Reeds are having a blast throwing shit at us, and they’re laughing like hell. We accept congratulations from all of them. Her parents are standing by the limo door and she stops to hug them. Emilio pulls her close and whispers in her ear. She gets teary and blinks it back, and then Marta holds her close.
I see my mom standing by the church doors, so I ask Lark if she can wait one second. I run over, pick my mom up, spin her around, and set her back down. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you more,” she says.
“No. You can’t love me more. Not possible.”
“Yes, it’s possible. My heart is older, so it’s bigger, which means it can hold more love. Sorry, kid, you won’t win this one.” She grins at me.
This is a mock argument we’ve had ever since I was small. I’ll never win it, but I do know that my love for her is huge. And so is my love for Lark. My mom hasn’t ever once doubted my love for her or that it would lessen any when Lark came into my life. I hear horror stories from some of my friends who say that their moms hate their wives, but that’s not the case here. My mom loves Lark and they spend a lot of time together.
She points to Lark and scolds me. “It’s rude for you to keep her waiting.”
I give her a hearty kiss on the cheek and run back to my bride.
Lark looks so beautiful. I thought my heart was going to stop when she started down the aisle. And she’s mine, from here forward. To have and to hold. In sickness and in health.
We went this morning to the place where her parents are buried. I think it was important for her to talk to them, to tell them about me, about us and the wedding. She always thought her mom would fluff her veil on her wedding day, and she did. It just wasn’t the mom she was given by birth. Marta fluffed her veil and wiped her eyes and took care of her, all the way up until she gave her over to Emilio so he could give her to me.
Lark spent about an hour at her parents’ graves, and then she was ready to go. She spent the morning with her sisters getting ready for the wedding.
Star waddled down the aisle like a penguin, and I think Wren looked a little green at one point. Finny is Finny, and she just made inappropriate jokes about the size of my junk. Peck was quiet, but I get the feeling from her that she wouldn’t hesitate to chop my balls off if I did something to hurt Lark.