Page 60 of Shadows and Whispers

Tell Cress about my diagnosis.

She didn’t have to say it. I knew. “I’m going to tell her.”

When the time is right.

“Thank you. If you would like to discuss it here, where she can be armed with the proper knowledge, then I’m open to the three of us sitting down together.”

“She can google that shit.”

Like everyone else had.

“She could but you know just as well as I do. The information out there can be misleading as well as very generic. Each person dealing with bipolar is different. Triggers are different. Even something as simple as your rapid cycling can be misunderstood without the proper knowledge that relates directly to you and how you manage your symptoms, Elias. If she’s going to be your wife, she will be a large factor in how you manage moving forward.”

She was right. My parents and Ez had always been a voice in my treatment. They watched me, picking up on signs. Shifts in my moods and behaviors. They could often see the depression or mania coming before I settled into it. In the beginning our mother was more hands on, more caring, but that was when she felt she could sit me in front of the right doctor who could fix me. There was no fix for bipolar, only managing the behavior. Her feelings about it aligned more with my father’s after a while. I was damaged goods. The crazy son. The family secret.

Ez was very different with me. He did what they never could and that mattered more than anything. He treated me normally which made it easier to be and feel normal.

I knew that Cress’s reaction would set the precedent for how we worked in a relationship, which was another reason I wasn’t in a hurry to tell her. For now, I simply wanted to get to know her, allow her to get to know me. The me that I was holding onto daily but eventually I would slip and be forced to expose her to the other side of who I was.

“That won’t be necessary. I can tell her what she needs to know.”

She nodded but I sensed that she was only agreeing for the moment.

“I’m not going to adjust your lithium. We’ll just add some anti-anxiety and a low dosage of antipsychotic the same for now. Give it a couple weeks to see how you’re adjusting. You should be able to see the changes in a few days. If things don’t feel right, you can schedule an appointment. You know what changes to look for?”

“Yeah. Is that all?”

“Unless you have something else you’d like to discuss then yes, that will be all for today.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Then this was a great start. I’m going to ask that you come see me in two weeks…”

I didn’t hide my irritation and she smiled smugly. “I’ve already told you, I’m not Dr. Harrington. For now, I’d like to check in on a regular basis. We’ll get to a point where we can spread those visits out over longer periods of time but for now, every two weeks. Can you commit to that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, actually you don’t. Not unless you’d like for me to recommend you to someone else who is willing to do half the work.”

“Two weeks, I can do that.”

“Good.”

I stood and she did as well but she added, “I need you to consider something.”

I gave her my full attention. “Bipolar can be as present or indeterminate as you allow it to be. People deal with all types of disruptions to their lives. Some greater than others. Phobias and other disorders. The key is understanding and proper management. You can exist without allowing this to consume you. You’ve done so for years. Half the battle is how you manage the disorder.”

I scowled. “Panicking because you see a spider doesn’t present a need to push your limits in destructive ways or force you to feel like some days you need to crawl in a corner and slit your fucking wrist and others be so hyped up on adrenaline that you go for hours at a time doing whatever feels good just to fuel the need pulsing beneath your skin. Not the same.”

“No, it’s not the same. It’s very much different but that’s my point. You have unique attributes because of how your mind works that complicates your life, as do they. Is any one of us truly a depiction of what is classified as normal? The mind is delicate. Some are obsessed with their looks or their bodies. Some simply fear the proximity to insects but regardless it comes down to how the world views us and if we’re accepting of those views. Do those opinions really matter or is it our own that guide who and what we are?”

* * *

Today was our engagement party. Cress and I arrived together. Our clothes matched considering I was in a pale gray suit and she wore a silver cocktail dress that had me watching every male in attendance that wasn’t family to see if they appreciated the way it hugged her body just as much as I did. Cress had loose curls in her hair which brushed her bare shoulder while she mindlessly tucked pieces behind her ear. It was a nervous habit. One that wasn’t meant to be but presented as sexy. Every detail about her had been ingrained into my memory. For the past couple hours, I had been watching as she moved around the room, from guest to guest. Smiling cordially, talking socially, and being polite to people she didn’t know.

The men and women in attendance were connected to our families in one way or another. Politicians, law enforcement, CEOs, all of which had a vested interest in our marriage being successful. They had whispered those things to me throughout the evening while shaking my hand and showing appreciation. I was taking on such a huge commitment that reassured them that their lives could settle back into routines that lifted worry and concern for the future of their billion dollar companies. A few also had the balls to point out that I was a lucky man for beinggifteda woman like Cress. They didn’t say why but I knew.

She was a fucking rare gem.

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