Page 53 of Alarm Fatigue

“Is that so?”

“I mean, it is the best selection of comfort foods out there.”

Mark murmurs his agreement as he is plating us toasted whole grain challah rolls before he places a skillet between us with shakshuka.

We both move to the sink to wash and I say the blessing for us as we sit to eat.

“Wow, this looks incredible Mark, thank you.” I smile at him as I sit, “You know, shakshuka is one of my favorite foods ever?”

“How about that? Well enjoy it and you are most welcome.” After I help myself, he scoops a couple of ladles onto his plate. “So how are you feeling, physically, and otherwise?”

“I can tell I am a little depressed, which we both know is perfectly normal. But it is odd watching yourself follow a diagnosis profile and outcomes pattern, as if it was a script. Physically, I feel so much better than I have for a while. There was so much I was blaming on my anxiety that was probably in part cardiogenic. Do not get me wrong, I know I have mental health issues, but I think I was being too hard on myself.”

“Atypical symptoms are something that all of us are at risk of missing. Part of me feels guilty that I did not figure out that you were having atypical angina. And of course I feel rotten, as I should, that we were fighting in the Emergency Department while you were having a heart attack.”

“Mark, both of us missed it. I suppose we are all going to feel like shit about it for a time. Fortunately we were in the right place at the right time.”

We eat in companionable silence for a while and I do not know what Mark is thinking about but I muse on our previous meals and conversations. Again I am struck by the lack of noise in my head.

“I realized something today.”

Mark stops eating and looks up at me. “What is that?”

“My brain has been eerily quiet. I mean, I have regular thoughts. It is just the negative stuff. Since that night, the night of the heart attack, the inner critic and the voice in my head that was that of my father, they seem to be on hiatus. I do not know how long it will last, but I plan to enjoy every moment of it.”

Mark collects our plates to wash up and says, “I don’t know if you are aware of this but whenever you mention the negativity in your head, you are careful not to specify what the actual thoughts are like. If it is too personal a question or too difficult to describe, I understand. I just want to understand you, and what makes you tick.”

I think for a moment. “The power my father had was not just that he was directly mean-spirited, I mean he could be that. But, as a miserable narcissist, he wanted everyone down at his level of unhappiness. He had a vicious knack for getting me to second-guess everything I would think or feel. That has been the most difficult thing to recover from. And I will be honest and admit that I have had to accept that parts of me never will recover from all of it.”

“Rachel, does it help to say I am sorry that you had to live through all of that?” I shrug and he thinks for a moment and adds, “And I am sorry for the way I chose to keep you at arm’s length. If I had known how it had been for you, I might have done things differently from the beginning.”

“I do not know if it helps to hear it from you, but I do not mind you saying so.” I think for a moment and say, “Thank you. But also, one of the things I enjoy most about you and I together is that you are not always careful with me. Well, I don’t know if I really enjoy it, but part of me loves that you challenge me. You don’t see me as some fragile victim but as someone you expect to be your equal. I am actually really thankful for that.” Desperate to change the subject, I say, “Didn’t you say you had a gift for me?”

“I did say that. Just give me a few minutes to go dig it out of my stuff.” He goes to the back room for a few minutes and comes out with a little bag. He gestures for me to join him in the living room. We say the blessing after a meal together.

When we finish, Mark is holding the little bag in his hands. “So let me start with my visit with my Aunt and cousins while I was in Greece, because it is connected to the present.”

“A gift with a story, intriguing. I remember, you said your Aunt and some of your cousins came to a different part of Greece to meet up with you.”

He smiles at the memory, “Yes, my Aunt Rebekah and her daughters, Tova, Nina and Ora.” I cringe a bit at the reminder of my encounter with Tova.

“Does Tova think I am a total weirdo?”

“Not at all. She understands the confusion.” He tries his best to look reassuring. I think I will just feel better when I meet her again in person and maybe not act like a maniac, so she can have a new impression of me. Mark begins again, “So my aunt and cousins made the journey to bring me something that belonged to my mother. If you remember, my cousins and aunts are all my father’s family. Like you, I do not really know anyone in my mother’s family.”

“I guess we do have that in common.“ I smile sadly.

“I asked them to bring me something of my mother’s that they were keeping safe for me.”

“Oh. I see.” I am not really sure I see, but I do not know what else to say.

“Rachel.“ Melting.

“Mark.”

“Rachel, I love you. I have loved you for so long, I do not remember what I felt like when I didn’t love you, actually.” Okay, wow. And this is weird without all the voices in my head dissecting what he is saying. It is also more than a little nice. Mark takes both of my hands in his.

Not knowing what else to do without all the noise in my head, I just squeeze his hands back.

---