Deadening the Pain
A/N: A 2003 article published by the Cleveland Clinic Information Center reports; "Every year, depression afflicts more that 11 million Americans, but men account for only 1 in 10 diagnosed cases. Men tend to deny having problems because they are supposed to "be strong." They are less likely to show "typical" signs of depression, such as crying, sadness, loss of interest in previously enjoyable activities, or verbally expressing thoughts of suicide. Instead, men are more likely to keep their feelings hidden, but may become more irritable and aggressive."
Readers need not to worry; this is not headed for character death. I want to thank Cheryl for agreeing to Beta for me and supporting my decision to "tell truths".
I see her in a distance but am unable to move. I try calling out to her but only feel the muscles in my chest jerk. If I could lift my head she would see me. Bruno comes out from behind the bushes. He is barking. "Hush boy," I try to say, "You'll wake the neighbors." But once again, no sound comes from my mouth.
The bed is harder than I remember. I try to roll over to take the pressure off my shoulder and hip but I can't. The pillow is cold and rough against my face. I hear thunder in the distance. I should have closed the window before I went to bed. Why is she walking away from me? I need her help. I can't seem to sleep. I try to bend my toes but the sheet must be tucked too tight. I feel flushed and my stomach is cramping. I need to get up and relieve myself but I can't seem to gather my senses to do so.
The crickets are singing their nightly song and it's very loud. "BRUNO, quit that barking," I try to say. He must miss her too. The breeze is beginning to blow, and I can hear the rain in a distance. I'm beginning to shiver, but I feel like the blanket is wrapped too tightly around me. My tears are soaking my face and rolling into my ear. I am so cold. She is coming home; I can see the lights from the car.
"Gil", I hear from a distance. "Gil," louder this time.
"Come on buddy, get up, it's raining and you're soaking wet". Jim's voice is in my ear. "You can't keep doing this", he says as he reaches down grabs me underneath my arms. "You didn't even make it into the house. Didn't you hear Bruno barking at you?" Jim picks an unstable Grissom off of the front porch and leans him against the house as he fumbles to pry the keys from Grissom's clenched fist. "You're damn lucky it was me that came by and saw you laying here" Jim said, his frustration evident.
Jim maneuvers a drunken Grissom through the front door and back to the bedroom. "Come on man, work with me here," he mutters as he drags his friend's dead weight.
The best Jim could do was to direct Grissom's falling body across the bed and fold the bedspread over him. Shaking his head as he shuts the light out, Jim raises his voice, "This shit HAS to stop. Tomorrow you are getting help if I have to drag you kicking and screaming."
TBC