Page 25 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
“Wow, and you didn’t think that was worth it?”
“He lives in her basement, collects antique dolls, and believes he is going outgrow his Type 1 Diabetes.” I explain.
“Okay, so maybe there’s a red flag somewhere in there.” We both chuckle while we share our fried dough and watch the river swirl by us. His company is comfortable, and he seems so self-assured and relaxed that it is easier for me to feel the same way. We grab coffees and wander the shops. He buys me a scarf that I say I like and holds my hand. I introduce him to the shop owners and other acquaintances from town that stop to say hello. He knows a surprising number of people in town already, a testament to the type of energy he puts into the world. The wholeafternoon is warm, and this terrifying feeling of contentment is swirling in my heart.
I could like this. I could love this. I could lose this.
Nick is all smiles, all charm, and it is contagious. Everyone we interact with clearly picks up on it too. The sunshine in his demeanor sets the tone for the outing and I couldn’t help but admire that about him. I try to be a positive person, but it’s quietly so. Nick can cast his glow, which makes being in his orbit feel particularly warm.
Until it wasn’t. Until I watched his light burn out.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Marcy
We are walking out of the bookstore on Main Street, back toward the town square. To my delight, Nick has taken my hand again, and I have a new romance novel resting in the small brown bag in the other. He looks down at me as if he’s about to ask a question, when he is startled by a tone of voice that can only be described as affected.
“Nicholas? Honey, look who is here!” An older woman is saying to her male companion. The couple is standing in our path, and Nick’s hand is now tensed in mine. They are impeccably dressed, both with stark white hair. Hers is neatly curled around her face, and his is combed over, appearing as though this is how it has been done for the past 40 years. Their clothing is designer and coordinated, tiny animals embroidered in obvious places. Denim and cashmere, with leather accessories for both. They are straight out of some fashion catalog that I would drool over in the grocery store checkout as a kid. “We didn’t know you would be here today, Nicholas.”
“Hi Mom,” he leans in to give her a curt kiss on the cheek and shakes the man’s hand.His Parents?“Dad, how are you guys?” Nick’s demeanor has completely changed. He is stiff and robotic in the interaction, nothing like the guy I have been spending the past couple of hours with.
“Oh, we are good honey, just came to check out the festival, get out of the house, you know how it is. What are you doing here?”
“I told you guys last time we talked that I would be in North River for work. I am here for a couple more months. I tried calling you a couple times last week actually and never heard back.” Nick states, not looking in my direction. I give his hand an extra squeeze, hoping he remembers to breathe, but he doesn’t acknowledge the effort.
What is this reaction about?
His Dad cuts in, “You know how it is son; we have been busy, sorry about not calling you back. We have had some committee meetings, had to hire a new landscaper, it’s just been one thing after the other. No hard feelings.” A statement, not a question.
“Right, so much going on Nicholas. And who is this lovely person?” His mother asks as her eyes rake over me. Eyes the same color as Nick’s. It’s a stare down that leaves me feeling naked, and not in a pleasant way. I try and keep calm for Nick but am starting to fidget my rings around the handle of my bag.
“This is my friend, Marcy. She’s a social worker at North River Hospital. Marcy, these are my parents, Lynn and John Anderson.” I reach out to shake their hands, which they return.
“So nice to meet you both. Nick has been such a positive influence at the hospital, you must be proud of his work.” They look at me like they have no idea what I’m talking about. Polite nods exchanged.
“Well Nick was always a hard worker. Wanted that dedication at our firm, but he’s made his choices. I’m sure he does fine.” His father shares, dismissing any sentiment of pride in his son, almost as if Nick chose to go into competitive eating rather than trying to save rural healthcare facilities. I look toNick, whose chest and shoulders have been carrying such pride all afternoon but are now hanging. Deflated.
I am determined to turn this around, as Nick has now gone silent. I put on my work persona and find that feigned assurance I need from time to time. “Well, we were just thinking about getting a drink or a late lunch, any interest in joining us?” I couldn’t help myself; I am so curious about the way Nick is reacting. These are his parents, they raised such a positive light in the world, how bad could they be?
“Oh, that is so dear, Macy.” His Mom starts. Not my name, but okay. “But we just ate and wouldn’t want to impose. Plus, we know how it is with Nicholas, ‘shiny new toy’ and all that. Don’t want to go getting attached to you, dear. You two have a lovely afternoon, though. Your father and I are on the way to the silent auction at the Art Guild and then we must be getting home. Lovely to see you, Nicholas. Tell your brother we said hello.” And just like that, they walked down the street, away from their son, as if he were any other acquaintance they could have happened upon.
Nick continues to say nothing, like he is in shock. His demeanor still completely at odds with every previous interaction we shared. I don’t know what to say.
“Well…They seemed, nice?” I try and elicit any response from him.
“They were terrible, Marcy. It’s fine. They are always terrible, it should come as a surprise to no one, least of all me.” He’s looking anywhere but in my direction, appearing lost in thought, not at all the confident and collected man who kept taking my hand today, making me laugh and feel safe.
“Let’s go sit somewhere and calm down.” I suggest. He nods and follows me toward Harolds. The shop is busy with the crowd from the festival, and Gary and Stan can be heard fraternizing with the customers from the counter. I tell him to wait bythe door and then sneak behind the counter to grab two large chocolate chip cookies. By sneak, I mean Gary sees me and is ready with two cookies hiding behind his back to hand off to me. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and head back out to Nick.
“That was stop number one, let’s go to stop number two.” I walk him to Brothers Bar, which doesn’t open for another 30 mins, but when the bartender, Ted, sees me outside, he takes notice of the distressed look on my face and comes to the door.
“Yes, Marcy? What can I do for you?” Ted eyes me warily, noting my despondent friend behind me.
“Any chance you would take pity on us and give us a head start? It’s a bit of an emergency, really.”
“A beer emergency, Marcy?”
“Yes, we had an extra stressful parental interaction, really pulling the mood down.” Nick is on another planet. “You couldn’t relate, could you?” Ted grew up on the same street I did, and although I have never learned all the details of his family life, I know from watching him get on the bus with me for years that we had gone through some similar struggles. Poor fitting clothes, no lunches, although Ted would sometimes sport some bruises with mysterious origins. He and I never had a direct conversation about our upbringings, but there has always been an unspoken, mutual recognition there.
