Page 37 of In a Haze

I just can’t.

And that makes me feel really bad.

“You said I was depressed?”

“That’s what the doctors believe.”

It’s time to ask a hard question—but it’s not as difficult as it would be if I felt anything for this man now. Still, he’s the father of my children.

Idofind my heart yearning for them now that I know they’re there.

“Why didn’t you know?”

I’m looking at his real face now, and his eyes…there’s a glint of something, like I touched on a sensitive subject. I’m not sure. “Perhaps you don’t realize that I’m away from home for weeks, months at a time. And you had your own things going on. We hardly spent time together.”

Maybethatwas why I was depressed—but I’m not going to say that out loud. If I’ve hurt this man, I don’t want to make it worse.

“Are…are the children okay?”

“They’re fine.”

“How old are they now?”

“Emma will be five in the fall. Ollie is three.”

“So they look different now. Do you have any new photos?”

He shakes his head. “Not with me.”

“Why didn’t you bring them with you to visit me today?” While I would have been shocked at first, I would love to hold and hug and kiss my children, see them playing, smiling. The picture is nice but in person would have been so much better.

“This is the first time in a long time you’ve been lucid, Anna. Our children don’t need to see that.”

“So where are they now?”

“We have an au pair who cares for the children when I’m not home.”

Oh. Another woman is caring for my children. I’ve abandoned them.

“When—when can I get out of here?”

Don arches an eyebrow, and I have a flash. I remember seeing that expression before. But instead of exploding like I expect, his voice remains cool and calm. “That’s up to the doctors.”

“Then I need to talk to them. Children need their mother.”

“Children need their motheralive, Anna. It’s going to take a lot for me to trust you with them.”

What is he saying? “Did I ever hurt them?”

“Not intentionally. But what if Emma had found you instead of me? An overdose is an ugly, ugly thing, and you could have scarred our children for life.”

Oh, God, I’m a monster. A horrible, selfish monster.

“And you said it was caused by depression?”

“That’s what they’ve told me.”

He extends his left arm and then bends it at the elbow to glance at the watch on his wrist. We’ve been here for quite some time, with spurts of silence and sentences, and I try to organize my thoughts. Before he leaves, what other questions do I have?

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