Page 22 of Life After Me

Jenn

OK, so maybe I was wrong. I can admit that. Maybe the antidepressants are needed — certainly I’m starting to think something is.

What’s going on with my darling husband is scaring me, because he’s getting worse.

He’s not eating properly. I know he was skipping meals before, but it’s far worse now.

He’s always tired and lacking energy, but he doesn’t seem to be able to sleep.

He just lies on the sofa watching late-night television.

He flicks through the channels as the evening wears on.

The programmes get worse as the hour gets later until, eventually, he passes out watching shopping channels.

He could actually watch something, stream programmes through one of the many services pouring into our home, but he doesn’t which somehow worries me more.

And it isn’t really sleep, and it isn’t helping him heal or feel rested.

I can see the tiredness around his eyes, and in deepening lines on his face.

It scares me. This tiredness eating away at my darling husband that won’t be cured by a good night’s sleep.

It’s sinking into his bones and dragging him down.

The last few mornings getting out of bed has physically hurt him, but he still gets up and goes to work because it seems like it takes him less effort than having to call in sick and make up an excuse.

He’s not painting anymore either. He seems to have stopped feeling almost everything.

There doesn’t appear to be anger or pain, no joy or hope.

No love. He doesn’t respond to me. I’m not sure he even knows I’m here.

He’s being sucked down into a pit of darkness, and that same darkness is pressing down on top of him and pushing me away. I don’t know how to help him.

Whatever’s happening to him, it’s created a wall of fog and confusion in his mind.

It’s stopping him from hurting, but it’s pushing me away too.

It’s suffocating him. He knows there’s something wrong, but his mind is too muddled to work out what, or how to fix it.

And I don’t know how to reach him to help.

Nothing seems to be reaching him right now. Not even me.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him.

Since he’s stopped responding to me I’ve felt weaker. It’s crept up on me so slowly that I didn’t notice at first. But now it’s getting harder and harder to leave my strange, grey world, and the grey nothingness seems heavier.

I feel like I’m underwater. My senses are duller and weight drags at my every movement.

Even my thoughts are clouded and just thinking leaves me feeling tired.

There’s other things I need to be doing.

I need to watch over Lottie, and help Matty answer his questions about Lucy, but David’s emotions are dragging me down.

I’ll have to come up with something. I just don’t know what.

* * *

David

I’d forgotten just how forceful Jenn can be when it comes to making her feelings known.

It was one of the things I’d always loved most about her.

I got a very sharp reminder last night. I hadn’t seen or felt her clearly for days, and I was starting to think maybe she’d passed on, or crossed over, or whatever it is that happens when you die.

And the idea of that happening had been so terrifying to me that I’d barely been able to function for the last few days.

But I’d just finished brushing my teeth for the first time in far too long, and looked up into the mirror.

Even though the bathroom was cold, the mirror was foggy and distorted my reflection.

I swiped my hand across the cold glass a couple of times, and looked up into Jenn’s warm eyes.

My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t even want to risk blinking in case she vanished again.

It had been so long since I’d seen her, and she was silent.

The air around me felt oddly cold and empty.

‘Why can’t I feel you?’

Jenn shrugged at me apologetically and shook her head sadly.

‘Why are you only in the mirror? Don’t you want to be with me anymore? Have I upset you somehow?’ I didn’t care how desperate or pathetic I sounded.

Jenn shook her head, waving her hands frantically, her mouth forming silent words, but I knew her expressions well enough to understand her. No, absolutely not. I wasn’t the problem.

‘So what is it, love?’

She mouthed something to me, but I couldn’t understand. She tried again and again, her frustration clearly growing as I let her down further, still failing to understand her meaning. She covered her face with her hands, clearly upset.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening, or how to make this right.’

She shook her head sadly. She didn’t know either.

I rested my forehead against the cold mirror, desperate to be close to her again. My breath steamed the mirror, and as I went to wipe the obstruction away, I hesitated. Jenn held up a finger. She had an idea.

Slowly, an image appeared in the fogged glass, drawn by her finger. A rectangle filled with small, evenly spaced dots in neat rows. What on earth?

Jenn looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to understand her drawing and meaning.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’ I stared at the image, trying to figure out what it meant. ‘Do you want to play a game?’

Jenn shook her head.

‘A box of chocolates?’ Another no. ‘Some sort of jigsaw? A big Lego block?’

Jenn smacked her hand against her forehead in frustration.

As I watched, her eyes closed and her lips pursed in concentration.

The mistiness surrounding her swirled and thickened, obscuring her beautiful face and leaving just the finger-drawn image.

It seemed to glow and twist, taking on a greater depth and shine.

As Jenn disappeared completely, the image became more defined and finally I could see that she’d drawn a packet of pills.

The antidepressants the doctor had prescribed to me, which I’d been so carefully avoiding taking.

As loath as I was to leave the first contact I’d had with Jenn in weeks, I raced to the bedroom and came back with the pills so tightly grasped in my hand that the edges of the packet bit into my palm.

The image of them on the mirror was already fading, to be replaced by my lovely Jenn.

But she wasn’t her usual, vibrant self. Instead she looked drawn and as tired as I could ever remember seeing her.

Was talking to me really so painful and draining to her?

I felt horrible that I’d caused her so much more pain.

‘This is what you wanted?’ I held up the packet. ‘I’ve haven’t been taking them, I promise.’

Even though she was faded, I could see Jenn nod tiredly. She knew I’d been avoiding them. Of course she did. She flicked her hand towards me, a gesture of irritation I’d usually only seen when she was incredibly frustrated about something — or with someone.

‘I don’t understand.’ As glad as I was to see Jenn, the tiredness that never left me was making it hard to think. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

She pointed at the pills in my hand and gestured to the corner of the mirror.

‘I still don’t know what you want.’

Jenn’s lips pursed and I could almost feel the muscles tensing along her jawline. She was getting annoyed with me, but I couldn’t work out how to make her happy. I reached down and picked up the waste bin.

Jenn rapped on the inside of the mirror glass and scowled at me. When she knew she had my attention she shook her head firmly and wagged a finger at me.

‘You don’t want me to throw these out?’

She shook her head, a slow, hesitant smile starting at the corner of her lips.

‘You want me to take these?’

She shrugged, almost apologetic.

‘But what if they change things? What if they stop me being able to talk to you? I couldn’t bear that, Jenn.’

Jenn held her hands up and shrugged. She was right, of course.

I was struggling, and communicating with her had been getting harder and harder.

I wasn’t looking after myself at all, or giving the best of myself to anyone.

It was clear my way of trying to do things wasn’t working anymore, so maybe I should try something else, because something had to change.

I had been prescribed them for a reason.

Millions of people take them, and find them helpful, there was no reason to think that once I found the right version or dosage for me, that I couldn’t be one of the people they worked for. ‘I suppose I might need a bit of extra help...’

Jenn’s face lit up in a relieved smile.

She was right. It was worth a try, because anything was better than this.

I popped one of the pills out and sat on the edge of the bath.

If everyone thought it was a good idea then maybe it was for the best. I rolled the pill around in my palm as I studied it.

It would be so, so easy to tilt my hand and let it slip into the bin — it was so small it probably wouldn’t even make a noise as it buried itself amongst the tissues and random crap that half-filled the bin before the lid swung closed.

But I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up the pretence of “normality” around my kids, though I don’t think I was really fooling them.

And to be honest, I was starting to get fed up of trying to fool myself.

And I missed Jenn so, so much. If there was a chance these little pills could help bring her back to me, then I had to try.

After long moments of contemplation, I popped it in my mouth, swallowed dry.

My hand, and knees, shook as I stood and pressed my fingers against my side of the mirror. ‘I miss you, Jenn.’

Her smile was so full of love and happiness that I could almost feel warmth through the cold glass as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before pressing her hand up against mine.

She’d got her message across, and I hoped she’d be back with me as soon as the drugs worked their way into my system.

For the first time in weeks I went to bed filled with hope, actually slept, and woke up feeling rested and happy. Everything was going to be fine.