And The Sea Called Her Name(13)

I took a deep breath, nodding, and began to speak.

Everything poured from me. It came out in an unbroken narrative threaded with patches where my voice failed me. I choked out last night’s events, barely keeping control of my emotions. My heels drummed on the floor and I felt the urge to bolt from the room, just tear the door open and run into the street, breathe the fresh air and keep going until my body failed me. When I finished, a deep silence invaded the room and Chave blinked, taking in a long breath.

“Well Jason, first off, I’m very glad you came to me because this does sound serious. The loss of one’s surroundings or conscious acts are not things to be taken lightly. Without seeing your wife and speaking to her, I can only make educated guesses as to her condition.”

“That’s fine, I’m just looking for something to go on.”

“I know you’re frightened and worried for your wife and unborn child, but this isn’t the end of the world. The mind is more complex than we could ever know. It’s like the ocean. No matter how far we delve into its depths and map its floor, we’ll never truly know all of its secrets. And don’t feel ashamed for your emotional responses to the events, they were and are perfectly normal given the circumstances.” Chave paused and shifted on the stool. “Jason, I believe your wife may be experiencing some type of seizures, but not any typical kind that can be easily diagnosed. I believe these episodes are unique and possibly are being brought on by a traumatic event in her past.”

I shook my head. “She would have told me if something terrible had happened to her. I mean, her mother disappeared seven or eight years ago, but there was never anything that pointed to foul play. Her body was never found or anything.”

“Ah, but this might be the source of what we’re looking for. Even something a person has divulged and dealt with on a conscious level may come back to haunt them, so to speak. Memories are the densest things in the world, Jason. They are heavier than anyone knows, most times their burden becomes clear last to those who carry them.”

“You think her mother missing could have—” I waved my hand. “triggered all this?”

“It’s possible, given the right circumstances. Especially with the expected arrival of your child. The responsibility of parenthood is daunting to say the least. Perhaps, and I’m only extrapolating once again, perhaps the changes to your wife’s body along with the realization that she will soon be a mother, brought these emotions and memories to the surface and these episodes she’s experiencing are her mind’s way of coping.”

I struggled to absorb the theory. I hadn’t given much thought to Del’s mother in years. She had been so matter-of-fact about the whole thing, it seemed a moot topic that she’d put to rest long before she met me. But perhaps the doctor was correct. Maybe by becoming a mother herself something inside her had broken open, a trove of undiscovered emotions that bubbled up from a chasm she didn’t know she played host to.

Slowly I nodded. “It could be,” I said, not looking up.

“I would suggest your first stop be the hospital,” Chave said, pulling out a small pad of paper and writing on it. He tore off the note and handed it to me. “This is a referral for an MRI. We want to rule out anything physical before we go any further. Once she gets a clean bill of health, then we can move on to treatment if she’s willing.”

I folded the piece of paper over and placed it in my coat pocket. Standing, I held out my hand. Chave rose as well and shook, giving my palm a reassuring squeeze.

“Everything will work out for you both, I’m sure. You need anything, day or night, don’t hesitate to call me.”

I told him I would and left the dim office, giving the receptionist a quick tip of my head before stepping outside.

So there it was. An adversary neither of us ever dreamed of facing. An enemy from within that couldn’t be stabbed, shot, or overpowered physically. But we could still fight it. There was hope. Always hope.

I climbed into the truck as the first drops of rain cascaded down from the burgeoning clouds that had expanded from horizon to horizon. A small tree branch clattered across the pickup’s hood and skittered away down the sidewalk as several people caught in the gale hurried with hands held above their heads or tugging at coat collars.

I drew out my phone and pulled up the clinic’s number before putting the truck in gear, windshield wipers sliding swaths of rain aside as I steered into the lane leading out of town. A voice answered after two rings and I asked for Megan Teller’s extension. The line was silent while I was transferred and I leaned forward, turning on the defrost to dispel the fog obscuring the windshield. I made a right turn and then I was on Route One heading north away from the city.