Saturday, December 21, 2013

I can't even think of a title right now



            Little Charlie is asleep now, finally, and I have some time to write. In fact, I need to write. I need to process everything that’s happened.

            I know I said I wasn’t going to be posting until after New Year’s, but I wasn’t expecting anything important to happen that couldn’t wait and well, something did.

            Since we were flying out mid-morning on Saturday, on Friday we had our last day of skiing. Over the course of the week Lucy had moved from the easiest trails to the intermediate, though that progress had just been made the day before. Fred had spent so much of his time with her he wanted Friday to go on the expert trails with me. I mean, I didn’t expect we’d really be skiing together, just on the same trails.

            But Lucy didn’t like the idea of being separated from Fred. She said she was sure she could handle the expert slope, it didn’t look that hard, and Fred had been such a wonderful teacher. Fred, Hannah, Charlie, and I all tried to tell her she shouldn’t go on the black diamond trails. We followed her up to the chairlift trying to convince her it was a bad idea. She just said, “I’m determined, I’m skiing it.”

            She got away from us and joined another group going on the chairlift. We all followed behind, anxious about making sure she was okay. Hannah said she was sure she would be fine just this once, but being so new to skiing she would realize we were right and go back to her intermediate trails. I didn’t share Hannah’s lack of concern.

            Well, we watched her get off the chairlift and start her way down the slope, and I could tell she was unstable, gaining speed too quickly without the skills of how to navigate. We got off the lift, and I hurried down to try and catch up with her. But Lucy’s speed was out of the control, making her veer closer and closer to the trees, and before I could reach her, she hit one. After a sickening thud and crack, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

            I heard the other three scream from behind me, while I got over to her as quickly as I could. Fred was by me in an instant, asking, “How is she? What’s wrong with her?”

            I didn’t dare remove her helmet, but I lifted the visor to make sure that she was still breathing. At this point, Hannah was in full hysterics, screaming and crying, while Charlie stood there, looking shocked and helpless.

            I told Fred to go get help, and he left to alert the ski patrol. I began checking Lucy for any other obvious injuries, such as broken bones or anything, but nothing I could find. People skiing had begun to stop and mill around us, so I told Charlie to make sure they stayed back, or even better, kept on skiing.

            It was a nightmare, not having the training to do anything else without risking more injury or, even worse, death. Charlie, as a doctor, would be able to help someone else, but not his sister. His hands kept shaking, and I didn’t trust that he was thinking straight. 

I know the paramedics got there as quickly as they could, but it seemed like forever when Lucy was unconscious on a freezing mountain. When they finally came, they had to Life Alert her off the mountain. Hannah, who had gone from blubbering into shock, wouldn’t leave Lucy’s side. She went along in the helicopter, since someone needed to give the paramedics any necessary information about Lucy.

Everything is a blur, I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense. There was just so much to take in that I’m still reeling from it. I did manage to stay in control as Fred, Charlie, and I left the ski resort. I called Marie while driving to the hospital—Charlie and Fred still weren’t processing things well then—and told her what happened. Or what I could among all of Marie’s screaming and hysterics. Ben, Harvey, and Lisa drove with Marie to the hospital where we met up with them.

After hours of waiting to hear anything, comforting Hannah, Charlie, and Marie to my best ability, and trying, but not succeeding, to contact Lucy’s parents, the doctors finally updated Charlie and Hannah on Lucy’s condition.

She was (and still is) in critical condition with swelling on the brain, so the doctors put her in an induced coma. The doctor said that they won’t know for sure how she’ll do, and that there are risks involved with the induced coma, like blood pressure lowering, heart failure, and an increased chance of infection, but it was the only thing they could do to have a chance to save her life. Thankfully nothing has happened to her spinal cord, but still. She may not…she might die.

Fred, the whole time, was agonized. And not in the showy way of Marie. He just sat in a hospital chair, elbows on his knees and face in his hands, sometimes rocking back and forth. When we went to get dinner at the hospital cafeteria, he wouldn’t go with us. He wouldn’t eat at all.

Finally, we got a hold of Lucy’s parents. They had been at the zoo with Little Charlie and missed our calls. Hannah and Charlie couldn’t bear to tell them, so I had to break the news. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Lucy’s mom began crying and so her dad had to talk, but his voice kept cracking, and I couldn’t be sure he wasn’t crying, too.

We had to make a decision then. Harvey and Lisa said that they would gladly open up their cabin to Lucy’s parents, but they didn’t have enough room to add two more people to the party. Two of us had to leave to make room.

Charlie suggested that Fred and Marie go back, which made Marie furious. She said that I wasn’t even Lucy’s family, and that as her sister-in-law, she had every right to be here with the rest of the family. Charlie reminded her about their son and how someone would need to take care of him. Marie said I could do a good enough job of it until Lucy was more stable.

Fred spoke up then and said that the only person today who had been helpful at all was me, and that if anyone stayed, I should, just to keep everyone sane and make rational decisions. He said that without me, Lucy would probably be dead. It was a very nice thing to say, in fact I think the first kind thing he’d said about me in years, but I saw where he was coming from. He thinks I’ll be able to think for everyone else while they’re emotionally compromised, so this compliment is really just a practical one.

However, Marie wouldn’t hear about me staying, and I didn’t want to push it. I agreed to go with Fred back home.

At this point, all of the flights back home were full, and Lucy’s parents couldn’t leave without anyone to take care of Little Charlie. So we spent one more night at the cabin, and then took an earlier flight out.

Fred and I didn’t speak much in the airport or on the plane. He was grieving, and after my own shock had disappeared and I didn’t have to think about keeping things as calm as possible, it hit me that Fred was in love with Lucy. No one acting the way that he had—frantic and terrified and depressed—could be anything but in love.

I sat next to him the whole plane ride knowing this, which led to a strange mixture of feelings. It was hard realizing that I’d lost Fred forever, and that he loved someone else while I’m still holding a flame for him. But Lucy, the woman he loves, is fighting for her life. How could I be so selfish as to be depressed about Fred when Lucy might not even live? When that will mean Fred has to face such agonizing heartbreak all over again? And, let’s face it, I never had a chance of being with Fred again the moment I didn’t take his hand in that courthouse. But it hit me fully during that plane ride. Because he has no love for me anymore, not even a shriveled piece of it. His whole heart belongs to Lucy, and nothing that might happen to her will change that.

We took a taxi from the airport. Fred went back to Adam and Carrie’s, while I picked up my nephew and took him back to his own place as Lucy’s parents left to hurry to their daughter.

I’ve been trying to distract myself with Little Charlie, but even as we play games and eat lunch and dinner and watch a movie, everything’s been swimming in my head and heart and I can’t get rid of it. 

I tried to stop her. If she’d only listened to us, none of this would be happening. She’d be okay and we’d all be home and happy from a wonderful trip. Yes, Fred would have come to realize he loved Lucy anyway and done something about it, but at least then I could allow myself to be sad about it, without this guilt over being jealous of a woman in a coma.

I just don’t know what to feel right now.    
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Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Apparently I have "It"



Last night, Lucy was dying to go to one of the local bar’s karaoke night, and for once, I didn’t mind going. Something about being out in the fresh air, having time to take a break from work and re-energize myself actually made me a bit excited about it. I even borrowed one of Hannah’s dresses, curled my hair, and put on some make-up. 

Everyone staying in the cabin came along with us. Marie and I were the designated drivers, for obvious reasons. It was a really nice evening, believe it or not. Everyone, well, everyone except for Ben, made a fool of themselves on stage, there was some dancing and talking, and it was the best night out I’d had in years.

In fact, I was even noticed by someone, and that was a bit of an interesting story. While Harvey and Lisa were singing a duet of “I Got You Babe,” one of the bartenders came over and gave me a drink. At first I said I didn’t order one and he told me it was from the man in the red shirt at the bar. I said I wasn’t having any alcohol tonight, and he said that the man had sent me over a virgin martini.

It’s been a while since a stranger bought me a drink. This was probably the first time ever, actually, now that I think about it. I looked over hesitantly to the bar, expecting it to be an old, balding guy with no game, but he seemed like a perfectly normal guy. He was mid-thirties, probably, handsome, and put together. And something happened to me that hasn’t happened in a long time. I was flattered by his attention. 

Everyone at the table was looking between me and the man who sent the drink. Lucy winked and said he was cute, and asked if I was interested. I said I didn’t know, maybe?

But, honestly, I was looking for a reaction in Fred. And for a moment, when the drink first appeared, he seemed surprised, and then he looked at me as if he saw a fraction of the girl I was eight years ago, just for a moment. Someone less worn down, with greater hope for the future.

Hannah told me to go over and talk to him, and though I wasn’t sure, the chorus of everyone but Harvey and Lisa (who were still singing) and Fred encouraging me to go made me stand up to go talk to him. But then, as luck would have it, a fight broke out in the bar and the man who sent me the drink intervened to break it up, which got him in the fight. When things calmed down, the manager kicked out the two men who had started the fight and the man who sent me the drink, so I never got to talk to him.

About twenty minutes after the scuffle, Marie exclaimed that she finally realized who that man was. It was that boy Eliza had a crush on all those years ago, wasn’t it? The one whose father’s business was going to start working with our dad’s, but when the father died suddenly of a heart attack and he took over, halting all business connections between our two companies, and then marrying someone else, thoroughly crushing Eliza’s heart.

I really couldn’t tell if it was the same man, but if so, thank goodness nothing happened to avoid that awkwardness. And I still got the compliment that he was interested enough in me to send me a drink. So yes, all in all a really fun night. 

Another thing, so you’re all aware, making posts this week has been pretty hard, to find time to get away to write, and Christmas coming up won’t make things any easier, so I think I won’t post anything here until the New Year when things calm down. 

Happy Holidays everyone!
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Monday, December 16, 2013

In Aspen



            We got into Aspen Saturday, and so far, it has been incredible! The scenery is absolutely beautiful, the smell of snow and soil and pine is refreshing, and the skiing has been amazing. Well, for me, at least. Charlie’s been nabbed to stay behind with Marie (yes, she insisted she has to come with us even though she can’t do much), and Fred’s been staying on the easy slopes with Lucy, who only went skiing once when she was twelve. Hannah’s been splitting her time between shopping and skiing the intermediate slopes. I used to go skiing all the time, so I’ve been going on the expert trails alone for the most part, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to have a change of scenery and an activity I love to do.

            The only part that’s been a little strange for me is our hosts, Fred’s former business partners Ben and Harvey, and Harvey’s wife Lisa. Now don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful people, and it’s nothing really about them. But Ben and Harvey aren’t just the people Fred became successful with, they’re his friends. When they picked us up from the airport, Fred’s face lit up and they all hugged like brothers, and even Lisa was greeted like a sister. Fred, Harvey, and Lisa all talked about people I didn’t know and memories I don’t share. And whenever these sorts of things have happened the past few days, I’ve wondered what it would have been like if I hadn’t given Fred up. If I might have been hugged and experienced their stories right along with them. So when I’m helping Lisa with a salad or pulled into small talk with Harvey, I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed out on something, a whole part of Fred’s life I might have been there for, but wasn’t.

            Of course, he never would have met Ben and Harvey if we’d gotten married, so I suppose I was never meant to be best friends with them anyway.

            In the evenings, after the outdoor activities are done and we’re all in the cabin, I’ve actually been spending my time with Ben. He came up to me rather shyly, at first, and said he’d been told that I loved music. When I confirmed it, he began to talk to me about some of his favorite musicians. When I said I wasn’t familiar with some of the artists he liked, he brought out his iPhone and began to play me some of his favorite songs. Now, everyone has their own taste in music which doesn’t always match up to mine, and that’s fine. There’s a lot of great music out there that isn’t my cup of tea. And sometimes I find myself listening to all of my sad songs. But Ben kept playing all of these 80s and some early 90s scream/rock/punk bands singing about misery and loneliness and death, which seemed odd to me, because Ben wears slacks and button-up-shirts and combs his hair and arranges the magazines on the coffee table neatly and in alphabetical order. The fact that he listens to that sort of stuff shocked me at first. I tried to be as polite as possible and say that I generally listened to different music, and volunteered to play some on the piano. He agreed to listen, and I picked some of the more up-beat tunes to play for him. He told me that I played very well, but didn’t say anything about the actual songs. 

            After, before going to bed, Harvey thanked me for talking to Ben. He then explained that Ben lost his fiancée a year ago. Fred, Harvey, and Ben had all been at a business meeting in New York, and while they were gone his fiancée had a brain aneurysm and which meant she died suddenly, and Ben would have never had the chance to say good-bye to her. Harvey said he was never a very social person before, and his loss had made him retreat even farther into himself. I can understand why this sort of music calls to him, but I don’t think that it’s very healthy for his situation. Sad songs, yes, they help, but lyrics so dark? And that being the only songs he really listens to?

            Last night we were able to talk again. I asked him why he felt inclined to listen to the music he did, and he told me about his love for this particular kind of music. He said that these songs don’t hold back anything, but get to the deepest part of the human soul and speaks of what it feels. I didn’t want to put him off (people are very stubborn about the music they like) and so I agreed, but asked him if listening to this sort of music all the time was healthy. I admitted to listening to a sad song or two when feeling down, but that if I ever wanted to feel better about my situation, I had to turn to different music to feel hope again. He said, in an almost jealous way, “You must not have felt deep pain yet, then, and for that, you should be grateful.”

            I told him my mother died and the only man I ever loved is lost to me forever. He actually took my hand then and apologized, then asked me what songs I listened to to ease my pain. Knowing his situation, I pulled up “To Where You Are” by JoshGroban. It’s a song I listened to a lot after my mom died, and he seemed to really enjoy it, and kept on listening to it. I discovered he’s more interested in the lyrics of a song than the actual style of it, and those lyrics truly struck a chord with him.

            He’s a very sensitive man. I wish I knew what to say. But I know from experience that nothing you can say will make it better when you’re hurting. After my mom died, everyone said that they were sorry, and after a while this phrase seemed hollow and helpless. Or they told me she was in a better place, or she was still looking out for me, told me it would be okay. Or talked about how these hard times in our life were an opportunity for us to grow. But those words never did provide me any comfort. It was Fred, actually, who was the only one who said anything right about my mom. When we were on our second date and my mom’s death was brought up, he just said, “That must hurt you.”

            With pain, no words trying to brush it aside or ease it will ever help. Only having someone admit to you that the pain is justified, that you ought to feel it, will create any sense of release. It won’t fix it, but sometimes we’re so pressured to be happy all the time, to never let anything take us down, we forget that things will happen and we will hurt. Time makes it better, though some things will never stop hurting, like my mom. Or even Fred.

            Still, we do have to move on eventually. We can’t let the pain take over our lives and stop us from living. And that part, that’s always the hardest—moving on, because that means it’s over.
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Wednesday, December 11, 2013

A broken heater



            Over the weekend, the heater stopped working at Adam and Carrie’s house, and as the acting landlady, I had to take care of it, which had some interesting moments. 

            I worked over there in the afternoon on Monday while waiting for the heater guys to come and fix it. Adam and Carrie were at work doing their VP thing, and Fred was just gone, probably because of me. Like most things with repair guys go, they were late. So late that Adam and Carrie got back from work before the repair guys came by.

            The two of them went into the kitchen to cook dinner, and I joined them there since I’d finished what I had to get done for work. While the two of them chopped and sautéed and mixed together, we talked about how they’ve kept the house the same, except for putting away some mirrors my father had up, and they told me about a picture they found behind one of the mirrors while moving some into the garage. Carrie gave it to me and I recognized it as one of Eliza from about ten years ago, with this guy she had a thing for, but he hadn’t been as interested and there was some business drama thrown into it. Anyway, it surprised me because I didn’t think Eliza would be the type of person to keep a picture like this. She’s more of a burn-it-with-fire sort of a person when it comes to rejections/break-ups.

            By this time the repair guys had finally made it and started working on the heater. Adam and Carrie’s dinner was almost ready and they started to wonder where Fred was. They said he usually texts when he won’t be coming back in the evening, but they hadn’t gotten anything yet. Adam said it was probably because he’s out with Lucy or Hannah, or both.

            They had an interesting conversation after that. I know I’m using this a lot, but I think it does the speaker justice when I can write out their conversation.

Adam: He’s planning on dating one of them, I’m sure. It’s just a question of who.
Carrie: It seems that way, but I’m not sure. All of his relationships are so sudden, I don’t know why he’s taking so long to date one of them.
Adam: None of his suddenly-started relationship last very long, though. This might mean he’s serious about one of them.
Carrie: Fred? No way.
Adam: Maybe he doesn’t even know which one he wants to date between them and is having trouble deciding. They’re both great women.
Carrie: No, I don’t think that’s it. Our family is used to moving quickly with romance, and he isn’t doing that with them.
Adam: That’s right. We didn’t take long to fall in love, did we?
Carrie: No, we didn’t. And if we talk about how fast we were married, Anne will start thinking our marriage couldn’t possibly make us happy, and we’ll end up divorced.
Me: I’d never think that. You two are perfect for each other. What was the point of waiting if you knew that?
Carrie: Well, it did create a bit of drama at first, working at the same place and everything, but in the end, we didn’t care.

            At this time, the repair guys were done and while I paid them, Fred came back with Lucy in tow, looking very excited. Fred explained that his one of his former business partners owns a cabin up in Aspen, Colorado and invited him to stay with them from the 14th to the 21st. They insisted he invite his friends and family to come, too, and Fred was seeing who was interested in going. Adam and Carrie said they didn’t know if they’d be able to go with their work schedule, so we’re still waiting to hear back from them. Lucy said that she and Hannah were already planning on going, and she insisted that I come, too. I was a little uneasy at first, but then I realized that Fred wasn’t uncomfortable around me, and he even looked at me normally. So then I said I would go. 

I’d really wanted to take a vacation before, but no one could really go with me and I didn’t want to go alone, so I’m really excited about this trip. Things should be better with Fred. I mean, yes, it’ll still hurt with Lucy, but why should I let that stop me from doing something that I want to do? I want to go skiing, I’ve missed it, and I should go. At this point, if I try to hide from Fred moving on with someone else, I’ll be hiding from every enjoyable thing. So I’m not going to let it affect me anymore.

Or, more truthfully, I’m going to let it affect me as little as possible.   
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