Not Pretending Anymore(68)



“So you knew about her bipolar disorder before you got married?”

My father frowned. “No. I knew she was different. But I didn’t know the extent of things. It took about five years before it progressed to the level that we couldn’t chalk it up to mood swings anymore.”

I’d done enough reading on the subject to know the average age of onset was twenty-five, so it seemed my mother fit right into the norm.

“Would it have…changed things if you knew?”

My father’s forehead creased. “What are you asking me?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Dad.”

My father stared at me for a while. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Living with someone with bipolar disorder can be very difficult. But there’s never been a single day I regretted asking your mother to be my wife.”

I looked down. “I know you had Catherine before you were twenty-five, so maybe regret isn’t the right word.”

“No, it’s definitely not the right word. But I think I understand what you’re getting at. If I’d fully known about your mom’s condition, would I have walked away, and the answer is absolutely not.”

I shook my head. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’d take three-hundred-and-sixty-four bad days a year just to have your mother for one good one, Declan. Your mother makes me happy. We have our ups and downs, maybe more so than most, but she’s the light of my life. I’d have thought you knew this, considering how many kids we have.”

That made me chuckle. “Yeah… I guess so.”

My dad touched my arm. “Have you spoken to the doctor about your concerns?”

“No.”

My father nodded. “You know you need to, right?”

I blew out a deep breath. “Yeah, I do.”

“Good. There are a lot of things in life we can’t control. But you can’t sit around waiting for something that might not even happen. Because then you’re not really living—you’re standing still.”

I sighed. “I know.”

My father studied me. “You do, huh? Then I want you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t sell yourself short. I’m assuming there’s a reason you wanted to have this talk today. And that reason looks good in a skirt.”

I smiled. “Her name is Molly.”

“Well, Molly would be very lucky to have you. Just like you are, son. No matter what road life takes you down. Trust me, I know that firsthand. Sometimes a bumpy road takes you to the best places.”

Though I didn’t necessarily agree with him, I knew my father meant well. So I pretended he’d helped me solve my dilemma. “Thanks, Dad.”

***

My time in California was limited. But there was no way I could come all the way home and not see my favorite sister. On Sunday, I decided to take a road trip to the convent to visit Catherine. She was four hours north in San Luis Obispo.

When I arrived, some of the nuns were playing basketball on the court near the front of the property. It was a riot to see them bouncing the ball around on the pavement, most of them in knee-length skirts or longer. If anyone thought all nuns did was sit around and pray, this proved them wrong. Some of these ladies could put me to shame on the court. Catherine was always telling me about their outings, too. They took exercise classes together, went to speak at schools, and volunteered in so many places. It was a very active lifestyle. Which was a good thing because if I were forced to be celibate, I would definitely need distractions, too. But let’s be real, that would never be my reality. I didn’t know how my sister did it. But this was the life she chose to lead.

I always had to wait outside until Catherine came out to get me. Since she didn’t have a cell phone, I had to dial the main line and request that someone tell her I was here.

Catherine finally emerged and reached out her arms to greet me as I stood at the base of the steps.

She gave me a hug. “How was the ride, little brother?”

“Long, but worth it to see you, Sister-Sister.”

She wore a simple, gray dress and small cross around her neck. Catherine’s order was less strict than some. They didn’t have to wear the traditional habits. Let’s put it this way: they were as stylin’ as nuns were going to get.

I gestured to the court. “How come you’re not out there playing?”

“It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight. I had to start preparing it.” She shrugged. “I played yesterday.”

I asked the question I always did when I came to visit. “I got my car running out front and ready to go. Are you sure you don’t want to skip this joint and never look back?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not a chance.”

Of course I was kidding. She knew that now. Although a few years ago, I might have been serious.

Catherine had been very careful to choose an order that allowed her to see her friends and family. Some nuns in other convents were kept apart from their loved ones. While I had to make an appointment, I was grateful to be welcome here. I couldn’t imagine not being allowed to see her.

We walked through the grassy field that surrounded the place.

“I was surprised when you told me you were back here for such a short time,” she said.

Penelope Ward & Vi K's Books