She opened her eyes. She was sorely disappointed when she realized the white she was seeing was not, in fact, the pearly gates of Heaven, but the white floor and walls of her bathroom.
She had survived another night. Goddamn it.
Groaning, she rolled her neck and heard the little pops of her tired joints. Julia looked down. Long, burgundy dried rivers of blood went down her thin legs, and the cuts had once again scabbed over.
She tried to stand up, but the blood rushed to her head. Sitting back down she closed her eyes and tried to will the pounding away. When it eased, she gingerly stood up, crouching, and made her way to the tub. She sat on the side and cut on the water.
The faucet turned, and boiling hot water erupted. Maybe if she couldn't bleed to death, maybe she could cook to death.
She was ashamed of her cutting. It was a silly, foolish, childish thing to do. She picked up the habit during her college years when the boys had taken advantage of her and the girls had abandoned her. All these long years later and she still hadn't been able to shake the deep desire to cut her porcelain flesh. Only Reese and Hayden knew about it. She wondered what they were thinking now.
When the tub was full, Julia cut off the water and eased her fragile body into the water. She inhaled sharply as the water burned her skin. But because her arms were so weak, she had no choice but to lower herself in anyway.
The water stung her cuts and the hue of the bath quickly turned pink as the blood came away from her skin.
She closed her eyes as her fingers rubbed over the wounded flesh, carefully wiping away the excess blood but never being hard enough to open up the cuts.
She turned her head and squinted at the clock. 5:18 am. She had entered the bathroom at 2:30. Ok, so perhaps two hours of sleep. Good.
Julia laughed at herself. Two hours of sleep was pathetic.
When the water began cooling and the steam had stopped rising up the surface, she reluctantly got out and wrapped herself with a towel.
Moving to the vanity, she grabbed a clip and fastened her stringy hair away from her face and neck.
She half-heartedly did a small toilette- brushing her teeth, mouthwash, and deodorant. She didn't want to smell bad.
Screw makeup. She didn't care that her skin was oily, that she had bags under her eyes, that her lips were chapped, that her eyebrows were messy, or that her eyelashes were bare. She didn't care at all.
She could have walked down the streets of Atlanta and no one would know they'd just passed the famous Julia Sugarbaker.
Julia switched off the lights and returned to her bedroom. She didn't even want to get new clothes from the closet. That would mean brushing Reese's clothes aside, and she couldn't bear to smell him on the starched fabric.
Opening a draw, she pulled out yoga pants and a large workout T-shirt that was three sizes too big.
Forgoing shoes, she shuffled downstairs. Looking down onto the floor below, her heart ached. It looked frozen in time: unopened letters sat on Charlene's desk, a lone compact sat beside Suzanne's seat on the couch, and Mary Jo's desk had a drawing of a room sitting on the corner.
Her answering machine flicked on and off, the red light reminding her that there was indeed a world outside of her home.
Home? Prison…
Without really listening to the messages, she hit the button and let them play as she headed into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.
The water was perhaps the only thing keeping her alive. She debated not drinking it.
Beep: Hey there, Julia. It's Mary Jo…. Hey…. How are you? I mean, are you okay?... uh, I mean… Julia… I love you…. And you know if you ever need anything, you know you can call me… okay… well bye….
Beep: Julia. It's Suzanne. Normally I'd tell you to snap out of it and pull it together, but I don't know if you can this time. Promise me you're taking care of yourself, even if you won't talk to anyone. I need a big sister, you know? So… I'm just gonna go now, okay?
Beep: Mama? It's Payne…. Please take your medicine. Go talk to someone. I love you. Bye.
Beep: Julia? Juliaaaa? It's Charlene! Call me, okay? Or else Imma come over there! Okay I'm really not, but you know this is just like that time back in high school when me and my brother Odell… Nevermind. I know you hate those stories. Ok. Well, bye then.
Beep: This is Doctor Avery's secretary, calling to say you missed your physical yesterday morning at 9:30. If you'd like to reschedule, please give us a call. You will be billed $45 for missing the appointment. Give us a call- 555-343-5678.
Beep: END OF MESSAGES.
Julia hung her head down and closed her eyes. She knew that all of them were right. She had to call them eventually. Had to face the world without him. Had to pull it together for her son.
She needed to go see a therapist.
She drank the icy water and felt it run down the back of her throat. There was something so cleansing about water. Perhaps she ought to go to the beach for a few days.
But the beach would mean a bathing suit. A blue bikini. A boat. Reese.
She quickly forgot that idea.
Julia stared off into space.
A knock came at the door. She glanced at the clock. 8 am.
"Julia? Julia, it's Anthony."
Crouching down, she hid behind the counter.
"Julia, Imma count to five and you're gonna open this door!"
She waited for the countdown to begin, but it never did. After a moment or two, she saw Anthony's outline retreat and she heard the sound of the van driving away.
Boy. She must be had off if Anthony had given up on her. How many mornings had he been by to see her? Two weeks? Three weeks?
Guilt began to consume her again. Three weeks without a paycheck for those hardworking women who had given so much of themselves for this business.
Unable to face them, Julia decided that perhaps it was time to see a doctor.
Her problems were beginning to spiral. She didn't want to leave her son just yet. But she didn't want to live either.
Picking up the phone, her hands shook as she dialed information.
"Information."
"Yes, could you connect me to the office of Dr. Garner? He's a doctor with Atlanta Psychiatry."
"One moment."
Beep. Beep.
Ring. Ring.
"Dr. Garner's office. Would you like to make an appointment?"
Julia took a deep breath. "Yes, I would."
"Tomorrow? We have a 3pm and a 4:30."
"3 is fine."
"Name?"
"Julia Sugarbaker."
Xxxxxxxx
Julia curled back into bed and opened the drawer to her bedside table. Inside sat a small leather box that contained a brilliant Tiffany engagement ring. It was white gold with three circular diamonds on top.
Reese had purchased it a week before his death. It was given to Julia after his children went through his belongings in the bank's lock box. On it was a note that said, "To my Southern Belle, my Jewel, my Julia. Be mine forever?"
They had planned to go sailing the following weekend. She had almost been Mrs. Reese Watson.
She pulled out the ring and slipped it on her finger. Hugging it to her chest, she regretted not marrying that man when she had the chance. He'd slipped through her fingers faster than the Atlantic sand.
Tears pushed against her eyes and she quickly jumped up and ran to the bathroom.
No more crying, she told herself. No more.
She sat down in the chair and reached down for her razor.
Xxxxxxx
Julia sat anxiously in the seat across from Dr. Garner. She had gotten some strange looks on the elevator ride up to his office.
She smirked to herself. Two months ago, she would have turned her nose up at herself, too. She despised women who wore workout clothes when they were not, in fact, working out.
But no way was she venturing into the closet.
She crossed her legs and tucked her ankle behind her foot. She was safe; she was grounded.
"Mrs. Sugarbaker, it's clear to me that you're depressed."
"No shit, Sherlock." Julia tried to sound light. It didn't work.
"Yes, well, depression is manageable with medicines. People deal with it all the time. I also think you have anxiety as well, so we'll put you on something that addresses that as well."
"Oh." That was all she could muster.
"But these medicines have risks as well. There's this thing called a Black Box warning. It basically means that sometimes the medicine causes you to have more suicidal thoughts. Now, since you haven't reported any symptoms, I feel that this won't be a problem."
Julia nodded and forced a smile. Oh, buddy, do I ever have suicidal thoughts.
"Are we done?" She asked.
"Yes ma'am." He grabbed a pad from his desk and scribbled out her prescription.
"We're going to start you on Paxil. Take one of these every night." He ripped off that sheet and wrote on another. "This is a refill for your Xanax and Adderall."
"Thank you." She said. Dear Lord, I'm going to be just like mother. Dependent on drugs for everything.
Julia grabbed the prescriptions and headed to the door.
"Mrs. Sugarbaker?"
"Yes?"
"I am a psychiatrist. I am not a therapist nor a psychologist. You need to find one, Mrs. Sugarbaker, and talk to them. Also, my cell phone is on that sheet. Call me immediately if you're experiencing those Black Box symptoms."
"Yes sir. Thank you."
She turned the knob and headed out.
Xxxxxxxxx
