“Thank you, Dr. Carpenter. I feel a little nervous.”
“Everyone has a different perspective on what the problem is, and who or what the solution is. The point of counseling is to create positive changes as rapidly as possible without feeling hurried. How do you see the problem or how do you define it?”
“When I lost my memory, I didn’t know how I could live without my past. Ethan’s parents welcomed me into their home because I felt uncomfortable living in my house with Ethan. He was a stranger to me then, and even though everyone told me that he is my husband, in my mind, I did not know him. I felt good in the weeks that followed. I slowly had the opportunity to know my family, and I was happy. I was optimistic about the future, with or without my memory. It wasn’t until the day of my birthday that everything changed.” I need to stop for a minute because I feel the anxiety creeping up my neck. Ethan reaches out to hold my hand. I would be so lost without him.
“From what I have been told, my relationship with my parents has been difficult for many years. They showed up at my in-law's house, and my mother accused me of lying about my amnesia. There was an argument, and my father punched Ethan in the face. Stephen threw them out of the house. I was so angry that they ruined my happy day, and when everyone went to bed, I called Barbara. We had another argument, and I could not sleep. I don’t know what I was thinking about when I left the house.”
“We all have problems or challenges that we must face,” the doctor said. “Are you an optimist or a pessimist about the future? If the situation with your memory never resolves itself, how do you feel about living the rest of your life without those memories? Although feelings aren’t right or wrong, good, or bad, every problem has a way of making us feel one way or another. So, how does this issue typically make you feel? Do you feel sad, mad, hopeless, stuck, or what?”
“I guess I feel stuck because while I have my memory after the accident, there is so much that has been lost to me: our wedding, the birth of my children, and all of the special moments with Ethan. They are all lost to me, and when I look at pictures, it feels like I am watching someone else’s life.”
“How does the problem affect your self-esteem or your sense of guilt?”
“I have nothing to feel guilty about! This wasn’t my fault! I didn’t ask for any of this!”
Ethan squeezes my hand. “Calm down honey. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.”
I feel like an ass for snapping at the doctor. She is only trying to help me. “I’m sorry; I know you only want to help me.”
Dr. Carpenter leans in and pats my leg. “It’s okay Diane. I want you to express your feelings, good and bad. I don’t want you holding back. If you are pissed off, shout it out to me. If you are happy, I want to know that too. There are no rules once I close that door. You can say whatever you need to say to me.”
“That makes me feel a little better. I have been so afraid that once I start talking about it, I’ll break into a million pieces.”
“Ethan, can you also answer this question? I would like to know your thoughts as well as Diane’s.”
“I have a lot of guilt. If I hadn’t volunteered to take the children to school, Diane would not have been on that road when the car struck her. I’ve gone over it a million times in my head since that day, and there is no way around it. I have to live with the knowledge that I could have prevented the accident. It eats away at my heart, and there is nothing that I can do to change the outcome.”
Marilyn nods and continues taking notes. “This is a normal reaction to a stressful situation. You replay the accident repeatedly in your mind, looking for an alternative solution. Unfortunately, accidents happen, and while you believe you could have prevented it, I’m afraid that’s not the case. Look at it this way. What would have happened if you had been on that road instead of Diane the day of the accident? The outcome would be the same, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t see how this is helping me.”
“Think about it, Ethan. Accidents happen, and while we try to take every necessary precaution, bad things happen to good people.”
“An awful thing happened to the most wonderful person I know. I don’t think I’ll ever get over what happened to Diane. Intellectually, I hear what you are saying. Emotionally, I am a husband whose wife sustained a serious injury. I am having a hard time blending the two together.”
“No set rule says you have to accept one theory over the other. I am not here today to tell you to forget what happened because neither of you will. Our goal is to accept and move forward, without the trauma. Both of you are still young, and you have many years ahead of you.”
“Diane, if you could wave a magic wand, what positive changes would you make happen in your life? Setting goals creates focus. What is your attitude about change? What are your positive change goals? How would you like to improve your life to be more satisfied and happy?”
“I want to get out of this chair. I want to walk on my own two feet without help. I want to have my children ask me to help them with their problems. My son is hesitant around me, and while he thinks I can’t see it, I do. They don’t know how to act around me. I don’t want them to see me as a weak person. I want a real marriage with my husband. I want to teach again, but how can I do that without the knowledge that goes with it? I feel like an empty shell, and all that you see is just window dressing. There’s nothing inside of me that makes me feel useful.”
“Ethan, how do you feel about this?”
“I agree with Diane. All we’ve done since she woke up is take care of her. I’m just as guilty as everyone else is because I have been so worried about her physical health that I did not see the underlying issue. We can remedy that quickly enough.”
I turn to Ethan and look at him. His eyes look troubled, and I can see the guilt. I don’t want him to feel guilty. “Oh, Ethan, we are really screwed up, aren’t we? We should have talked about this before today.”
“Honey, we agreed to let it rest until after Christmas. We will have plenty of time to discuss everything.”
“I know. I just feel like we’ve added a lot more stress to our life today. I don’t want to feel stressful anymore.”
“I know, Diane; I don’t want to feel stressful either. We’ll work through it.”
Marilyn looks down at her notes and continues with the questions. “Diane, overall, how would you describe your mood? Feelings come and go like the weather. Some of us are moodier than others are or pick up someone else’s mood like a cold. Still, others are thick-skinned about emotional events. In your case, what makes you feel anxious? Is your mood like a roller coaster, or is it steady? What brings you down or makes you feel blue? What’s guaranteed to make you feel up?”
“I would say my general mood is lethargic. I have my good moments, but in general, I feel depressed and sad. I feel sad because it’s taking longer than I thought to get back on my feet. Lethargic because I can’t do anything but sit, read, and watch television while I look at the world pass by me. My aquatic therapy is working, and I’ve taken steps in the house without help, but it’s a slow process. I’m not a patient person. The only time I feel happy is when I have my husband and children next to me.”
“Ethan, how do you feel? I want you to be honest with me.”
“I feel like my head is about to explode. I constantly worry about Diane, and I worry about the future. I’ve pretty much accepted that she will never regain her memory, and while I am happy that she is home with me, I wonder when Diane tells me she loves me, is it the same kind of love as before the accident. I feel stupid saying this because all I’ve wanted several months is to hear those words from her, and now that I do hear them, I second-guess the meaning. I feel like an ass because I don’t know what I would do without Diane in my life.”
“The months that she was lost to me were a living hell for all of us. I sat with Diane for countless hours holding her hand, talking to her, and telling her how much I love her. I prayed she would hear me. I prayed that i
f Diane just opened her eyes, everything would be okay. I have never felt so alone, or so emotionally out of control in my life. I couldn’t have a breakdown because my kids needed me, Diane needed me, so I held in those emotions.”
“Ethan, can you tell me a little about how you felt?”
“Honestly, I thought my world would come to an end. I thought I would never hold my wife in my arms again. I mentally prepared myself to live my life without the woman who was my wife, because the person laying in a hospital bed was not the girl I knew. I hate saying this, but it’s the truth. I had no way of knowing how Diane would be if she ever opened her eyes.”
“Diane, how do you feel about what Ethan just said?”
“It makes me angry that the person who hit me got off with a light sentence, while my family is still suffering. I don’t want this hanging over our heads when we are sixty years old! I don’t want my husband questioning the meaning behind my words. I love you, Ethan, as I am now. I love you. Please don’t look for something that isn’t there. Am I the same person before the accident? No, and neither are you. You’ve said so before, and I don’t want us constantly looking back, and second-guessing everything we do or say. That will drive me crazy!”
“I don’t want it either Diane. It kills me feeling this way. I love you, and it makes me happy just hearing your voice, and I’m sorry if what I said upsets you.”
Dr. Carpenter takes a minute or two to take notes. We still haven’t discussed the elephant in the room. The park and what happened in the park. It’s coming, and I am trying so hard not to panic.
“Diane, I would like to focus on the night of the attack in the park. Why did you feel compelled to leave the house?”
“I’m not sure now. I remember feeling agitated. Barbara upset me terribly, and I only wanted a little fresh air. I walked to the end of the street, and then I just kept walking. Before I knew it, I was lost, and I did not have m…my phone. It was so…dark ...and I didn’t…know where I was.” I can’t go on and break down sobbing into Ethan’s shoulder. His other arm wraps around me, and I feel safe and loved.
“It’s okay baby. You don’t have to talk about this now. Do you want to go home?”
I take a few seconds to answer him. “No, I need to talk about this. I need to get this out of me.” A few minutes later, I continue. “I don’t know how long I walked when I saw the park. The streetlights weren’t bright, and I felt afraid, so I hid between a bench and a large bush. I heard voices, and I crouched lower. I didn’t want anyone to see me, but I was so afraid, and I made a noise. They heard me, and then I felt someone pulling me by my shirt.”
“I fought the best I could, and I scratched one of them, and when I did, he…he….he hit me in…the face. I fell to the ground, and….and then….then….two of them held me down and I…I felt my clothes tear. He pulled my pants down and…and…tore my shirt and bra. The man standing…over…me…pulled out his….penis and stroked himself. My body shook uncontrollably, and my head…felt like it would explode from the…pain, so much…pain. I prayed I would die. I didn’t want to live through this, and then the world…went dark.”
Ethan abruptly stood and paced the room. “That’s enough for today.”
“I agree,” Doctor Carpenter said. “We can resume this next week. I will have my assistant schedule the appointment. Diane, I want to say something to you. I think you are a very brave woman for coming here this morning and sharing your story with me. I’ll see you next week.”
I feel drained emotionally and physically, and I can’t even stand to get into the chair. Ethan picks me up, places me in the wheelchair, kisses my neck, and whispers to me, “I love you, and I am so proud of you.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ethan
I have a primal urge to find the fuckers who hurt my wife, cut off their dick and balls, and shove them down their throats until they choke to death. That’s how pissed off I am now. I can’t let Diane see how angry I am, because it will only upset her further, and that’s the last thing I want to do. Diane was asleep five minutes after we left the parking garage, and I can understand how this morning drained her energy. If my reaction is any indication as to how she feels, it’s not surprising that she passed out in the car. I take the longest route home because I need to calm the fuck down, and driving does that for me.
After hearing what I did this morning, I know I made the correct decision about delaying this conversation until after the holidays. If my kids ever saw me as angry as I am now, it would change our relationship. They would fear me, and that’s the last thing I need now. I pull into a parking lot and text my father. I’ve never needed him more than I do now.
Dad, I need you at my house ASAP.
Where are you?
We’re on the way home from the hospital.
Is Diane ok?
No, neither of us is ok. I need you.
I’ll be waiting for you. Drive safely, son.
Thanks, Dad. I love you.
Love you too son.
Diane slept the entire drive home, and when I pull up into the driveway, the front door opens, and my mother and father are standing on the porch. Diane stirs from her sleep as I lift her out of the car.
“Are we home already?” she asks sleepily.
“Yes, sweetheart, we’re home. I’m taking you upstairs, and we’ll get you into your comfortable pajamas, and then you can go back to sleep. Does that sound okay honey?”
“Yeah, that sounds so good. Love you, Ethan.”
“Love you too baby.”
Fifteen minutes later, Diane is sleeping peacefully. I close the door quietly and go down to the kitchen where my parents wait for me. My father has his coat on and grabs my arm. “Get your jacket. We’re going for a drive. Your mother will stay here until we get back.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to the cabin.”
The cabin is a little shack where my father goes fishing. It’s about an hour’s drive from my house, and as my dad drives, I stew in my anger. Even my body feels overheated. “Why are we going to the cabin?”
“You need a place to vent your anger. I can see it all over you. I don’t want you to explode in front of the kids or Diane. You need to do this in private.”
I can’t blow my stack in front of everyone, and by the time we get to the cabin, I’m about to implode. I get out of the car and scream at the top of my lungs. I’m surprised I did not bruise my larynx. I scream for a good five minutes, then fall to my knees and cry from the deepest part of my soul.
My father sits on the cold ground next to me and cradles my head in his lap. His firm hand runs over the top of my head, and I lose it again. Months of worry, frustration, and loneliness pour out of me. I can’t stop it, and even if I could, I need to get this out of me before we return home. My baby girl is just beginning to relax, and she does not need to see her father have a meltdown.
“What they did to her Dad, you should have heard what they did to my beautiful Diane. They pinned her arms and legs to the ground. They tore at her clothing. One of the fuckers jacked off in front of her while she watched him. That’s when Diane lost consciousness. It’s what saved her. If she hadn’t had the seizure, they would have raped her. Oh, God, why Dad, why did this have to happen to her? She never hurt anyone, and the fucker who hit her sits in his warm house with an ankle monitor, while my wife continues to suffer. I want to hurt someone. I want to take my bare hands and beat someone violently. I have never felt such intense rage and hatred against another human being, but I swear to you, I could kill someone and not feel one ounce of remorse.”
My throat is killing me, and I don’t have the energy to get off the ground. My father continues to hold me in his arms while I cry like a fucking baby. I knew this would happen when we finally talked about what happened in the park. Diane and I have been living in denial, I know this, and yet, hearing those words coming from her hurts like hell. I can’t bear knowing I couldn’t protect her. Why did sh
e leave the house? I’ve asked myself this question hundreds of times over the last several months. Why didn’t she call me that night? And then it hit me! I’m angry with Diane. I am fucking furious, and I feel like shit because I’m mad at her. I sit up and face my father. I need to get this out of me now. “I just realized that I’m still angry with Diane for leaving the house that night. Why didn’t she call me, Dad? I gave her an extra phone just for the two of us to communicate. All she had to do was pick up the phone, and I would have been at your house within minutes.”
My father looks troubled, and I don’t know why. “Let’s get off the ground and go into the cabin. I need to talk to you.”
Several minutes later, we sit at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He stares into his cup of coffee for a long time, I assume, to gather his thoughts. When he looks up at me, there are tears in his eyes.
“Your mother and I agreed to never discuss this with you or your brother. It was a difficult time in our marriage, and I want your promise that you will never discuss this with him. Do I have your promise, Ethan?”
“Of course, Dad, you know you can trust me. What happened with you and Mom?”
“Eight months after Jerry had been born; we found out that your mother was pregnant again. We knew almost immediately that this would be a high-risk pregnancy. At twelve weeks, we knew we were having twins. I was excited and terrified at the same time. Your mother suffered horribly with morning sickness, and at around sixteen weeks, preeclampsia set in. Catherine’s blood pressure had been dangerously high, and we decided on bed rest until she delivered. Your mother was under strict orders to limit her activity to one hour a day. We hired a housekeeper and a nanny to help with the house and your brother. Two months later, I came home from the hospital and found your mother on the kitchen floor, lying next to a stool, and she was bleeding. Jerry was in his crib screaming at the top of his lungs.”
“By the time we arrived at the hospital, both of my daughters died in utero. To this day, I can’t bear to think about what might have been. When your mother told me that she lost her footing and fell off the stool, I was so angry I wanted to punish her for killing our babies. It was the worst time in our marriage, and I honestly did not think our marriage would survive the loss of our daughters. We fought constantly. Your mother suffered from post-partum depression, and she ignored Jerry for almost a year. I relied on both of our parents to take care of your brother.”