Page 24

Dante

I settled beside Danny on the couch as Dr. Walker began the session. “I invited you here because this affects you as well,” she began, her gaze steady. “My understanding is you’ve helped Danny during his episodes of emotional instability. Is that accurate?”

I murmured a confirmation, glancing at Danny, whose eyes were fixed on the floor. “But I wouldn’t characterize them as episodes ,” I corrected, my voice low. “More like he reached a breaking point and needed help to manage the overwhelming chaos.”

“Are either of you familiar with bipolar disorder?” Dr. Walker’s question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Danny’s retort was sharp. “I’m not crazy.”

Dr. Walker responded with unwavering assurance. “No, you are not. Bipolar disorder is a complex mental health condition marked by drastic mood swings—intense highs, termed mania or hypomania and debilitating lows, characterized by depression. During a depressive phase, a person will experience profound sadness, hopelessness, and a loss of interest in life’s pleasures. Conversely, manic or hypomanic states are defined by euphoric elation, boundless energy, or extreme irritability. These fluctuations significantly affect sleep, energy levels, behavior, judgment, and cognitive function. Does any of what I said seem familiar to either of you?”

A profound realization washed over me. Her description mirrored Danny’s reality. She had captured the essence of his existence—the unpredictable oscillations between ecstatic joy and crippling despair, a pattern I’d witnessed since our first encounter.

“These mood swings, from depression’s depths to mania’s heights, can occur sporadically or repeatedly throughout the year. Each episode typically lasts several days. Some individuals experience extended periods of equilibrium between these episodes. Others, however, navigate a relentless cycle of mood extremes, sometimes experiencing both depression and mania simultaneously.”

“You keep mentioning mania,” I interjected, needing clarification.

“Mania represents the severe end of the bipolar spectrum, causing significant disruption in professional, academic, and social spheres as well as hindering interpersonal relationships,” Dr. Walker explained. “It can even trigger a disconnection from reality, a condition clinicians refer to as psychosis. In such cases, hospitalization may be necessary.”

“So, you suspect Danny has mania?” I asked, apprehension tightening my chest.

“ I’m not ready to diagnose Danny yet,” Dr. Walker responded calmly. “Today, I am here to get to know each of you and learn what I can, so I can plan the best treatment plan. If and it’s a significant if , I determine Danny exhibits manic bipolar disorder, I’ll seek a second opinion and collaborate with a colleague to devise the optimal course of action.”

“What’s the next step?” I asked, the weight of uncertainty pressing down.

Dr. Walker offered a reassuring smile. “We talk.”

The room fell silent as we absorbed the implications of Dr. Walker’s words. I felt a surge of protectiveness toward Danny as my mind raced with more questions and concerns.

“How did I not see this before?” I wondered aloud, my voice laced with a mixture of wonder and worry. “It’s like I was blind to the obvious.”

Danny remained silent, his gaze still averted, as if he were processing this new revelation through which his life was being viewed.

Dr. Walker’s expression was compassionate as she addressed us both. “It’s not uncommon for bipolar disorder to go unrecognized, especially in high-functioning individuals like Danny. The very nature of the condition can make it difficult to identify, with periods of normalcy and high productivity interspersed between the mood extremes.”

Her words made a strange kind of sense, fitting the puzzle pieces of Danny’s life together in a way that reflected his reality. I thought back to the times when Danny’s energy and enthusiasm seemed boundless, fueling his creative endeavors and social engagements. Then, without warning, he would retreat into himself, becoming despondent and reclusive. It was as if we were dealing with two different people and yet it was always undeniably him.

“The first step is understanding,” Dr. Walker continued, her tone gentle but firm. “With proper management and treatment, individuals with bipolar disorder can lead fulfilling and stable lives. It’s a matter of recognizing the triggers, managing the symptoms, and developing strategies to navigate the highs and lows effectively.”

As she spoke, I felt a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty. This explanation provided a framework for understanding Danny’s behavior and offered the promise of a path forward.

My back stiffened. I didn’t want to talk about that.

I wasn’t ready.

I didn’t know if I would ever be ready to talk about that shit.

“I know,” I replied softly, my eyes never leaving the sizzling pan. “And I’m still here.”

A heavy silence filled the room as I stirred the bubbling sauce, the aroma of garlic and basil wafting through the air. I could feel Danny’s eyes on me, his hurt and confusion hanging between us. “I’m not going anywhere,” I added, my voice steady, hoping to reassure him. “I love you, and we’re in this together.”

I heard the soft pad of his footsteps as he approached, and then he was standing behind me, his presence comforting despite the tension in the room.

“I know you love me,” he seethed, his voice a harsh whisper against my ear. “I want to know why?”

I turned off the stove and faced him. Taking a steadying breath, I met his gaze directly. “I love you because you’re passionate and intense. Your creativity inspires me, and your enthusiasm is infectious. But I also love you because you’re sensitive and compassionate. You feel things deeply and that includes your pain. I’m here because I want to help you manage that pain and find a balance where you can embrace all the wonderful parts of yourself without being overwhelmed by the lows.” I paused, searching his eyes for any sign of understanding.

Danny’s expression was unreadable as a mix of emotions played across his features.

Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “I don’t want you here.”

“Too bad,” I replied, standing my ground. He was spoiling for a fight and I refused to engage. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You don’t know everything I’ve done.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t. It’s club business.”

Narrowing my eyes, I felt my rage bubble. “Don’t give me that shit, Danny. I’m in a club too.”

“That’s the fucking problem!” he seethed.

“You think I don’t know that?” I challenged, my voice rising. “You think I don’t know the things you’ve done, the choices you’ve made? I’m not na?ve, Danny. I know the life we lead, the things we do. And I’m still here.” My heart was pounding, my breath coming in short gasps as I faced him, refusing to back down. “You can’t push me away, not anymore. I’m done being pushed away.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “This isn’t about me pushing you away. It’s about keeping you safe. Club business is dangerous and I won’t have you caught in the crossfire.”

I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. “I’m already in it, Danny. I’m in this life with you and I’m not backing down. We’re in this together, remember? That means we face the dangers together, we navigate the chaos together. You don’t get to decide my involvement based on some misguided notion of protection.”

His gaze faltered, and I saw a flicker of uncertainty. “Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

With that, he turned and stormed out of the kitchen.

Dr. Walker’s gaze remained steady, her expression unwavering as she held the silence, clearly waiting for a response from Danny.

I shifted on the couch, the weight of the conversation bearing down on me. I wanted to reach out to Danny, to offer some comfort or encouragement, but his body language was closed off, his eyes fixed on some invisible point across the room.

“Danny,” she prompted again, her tone gentle yet insistent. “I understand your reluctance to engage. It’s not easy to confront these issues, especially when it involves sharing personal experiences and emotions. But I assure you, it’s crucial for your well-being and for those around you who care about you.”

A muscle twitched in Danny’s jaw, the only sign that he had heard her.

I held my breath, hoping he would speak, offer some glimpse into his inner turmoil. Instead, he remained silent, his gaze now focused on his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“I think it’s important to emphasize,” Dr. Walker continued, “that seeking help is not a sign of weakness. On the contrary, it takes immense strength to acknowledge our struggles and take steps toward healing. It’s clear that you’ve been through a lot and I’m here to help you make sense of it all and find a path forward.”

“Danny, please say something,” I implored. This would not work unless he opened up and talked. I got it was hard for him, but I couldn’t take much more.

He had to at least meet me halfway.

Instead of answering me, he yelled, “Zach, get in here!”

I looked at Dr. Walker, who, like me, seemed confused why Danny wanted Nav in the room.

“Yeah?” the Silver Shadow club brother spoke, walking into the living room.

“I need a computer.”

“NO!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. “Absolutely not!”

Looking from Danny to Dr. Walker to me, Nav gulped. “Uh, Sypher, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet. I’ve got everything under control, brother. You still need time to heal.”

“Danny, why do you want a computer?” Dr. Walker asked, trying to defuse the tension in the room.

“So I can do my job,” he snarked angrily, as he glared at me.

“No. Your job is to get better,” I said, taking a seat close to him. “Please, Danny. You need help. We both do. I killed a woman and shot Sinclair. I’ve never harmed another living soul and yet, I didn’t think twice about killing that bitch and shooting Sinclair.”

“You were protecting me,” he muttered, looking away.

“You sure about that?” I challenged. “Because all I felt was rage. A deep-seated visceral rage. I wanted to punish them, Danny. I wanted to hurt them as much as they hurt me.”

Danny’s eyes flashed with anger, and I could see the internal struggle playing out across his face. “I need to do something, Dante. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m going crazy with boredom.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I know it’s hard, but you have to give yourself time to heal. Dr. Walker is right. Our priority right now is your health. We can deal with club business later.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped, his gaze challenging. “I can handle it.”

“Are you handling it?” Dr. Walker interjected, her voice calm and steady. “It looks to me as though you are avoiding it. I understand your desire to get back to your routine, but we need to ensure we’re taking the steps for your long-term well-being. For now, let’s focus on your recovery and work on managing your symptoms. We can re-evaluate your involvement in club activities once we’ve made some progress.”

Danny’s jaw clenched, and I could see the frustration building within him. “Fine,” he relented, his voice tight. “But I can’t just do nothing. I need something to take my mind off...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes clouded with pain.

I placed a hand over his, offering what little comfort he would allow. “We’ll find something, okay? Something to keep your mind active and engaged. But for now, let’s take this one step at a time.”

And for the first time since before the accident, I got a real response from him.

He squeezed my hand back.