(Sorry this has been so long in coming. As I said before, I've been on
holiday. I know I said I'd try to get it up before I went, and I did try-
this chapter was half written before I went. Unfortunately, I had to do a
thing called packing, otherwise I would have finished! I wrote the rest of
this part whilst I was on holiday. I hope it's worth the wait. Hopefully
Harry comes across right, and my explanations of some things in the second
half of this part aren't too boring- I'm not sure if that bit's too listy.
Let me know! Thanks to everyone who's posted feedback to this so far-
you've mad me want to carry on, thank you!)
"Mum, look at that, don't you think that's so exciting? That kid must be so big to be able to go all the way up there, right to the top," Harry enthused, pointing to the top of the climbing frame in the park. "I'm going to be big like that one day, and I'll go right to the top, and I'll be able to see the whole world. And Mummy, is Jessie big enough to go up there? Jessie's a big girl, isn't she? And I'm a big boy, but I'm not big enough to go up on the top of the big climbing frame yet. One day I will be though, won't I Mummy? Because everybody grows bigger. Unless they die, which is really sad, but I'm not going to die, I'm going to grow up big and tall and strong like Daddy. And I'm gonna be real clever too, and get into a really clever school, and be the top of my class." The five-year-old paused to finally take a breath, allowing his mother to get a word in.
"Harry, calm down. It's just a climbing frame, you can go on the smaller one. Stop getting so excited over nothing," Abby said, trying to hold her temper. The child wore her out sometimes.
"Okay Mummy, I was saying that when I'm bigger I will be able to go on it. Weren't you ever excited about being able to do things that bigger people did when you were little?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I bet you were. Little people get excited, and everyone's little sometime. Everyone, even you and Daddy. But I know you and Daddy were little, because you can be real nice to me and Jess, and so you must know what it's like to be a kid. Even Dr. Weaver was a kid once; she has to have been. But I don't think she was. I think she was a monster who came from another planet, and was never little. She's too horrible to have been little. Nobody likes Dr. Weaver, do they Mummy? She's not nice to a single person, she just tells everyone off, and doesn't let them do things the way they want to either. Do you like Dr. Weaver? I know Daddy doesn't, I heard him saying to Auntie Susan one time. He said some really horrible things about Dr. Weaver. Mummy, how can you tell me off for saying horrible things about people when Daddy says horrible things too? I think Daddy's a very bad person, for being like that. Jess told me that that makes him a hippie-o-crit. Is that a really bad thing, Mummy? Is that something I can call people when we're arguing? I think that would be really cool, if next time Jess is horrid to me I could go 'Jess, you are such a hippie-o-crit. Just shut up.' Don't you think Mum? I do, it would sound so good, and she'd be so surprised that I remembered the big word, and."
"That's enough, Harry," Abby interrupted. "Don't say such horrible things about people. If I hear you saying things like that again you are going to be in big trouble."
"Very big trouble?"
"Very big trouble," she confirmed. "Now go and play in the playground, and try to be nice, and keep that mouth of yours shut for once." He nodded, making a zipping motion across his mouth, and running towards the play area. Abby walked towards the nearest bench and sat down to watch her son play. He was very hyperactive sometimes, and she worried that one day it would get him into trouble. She hoped it was just a phase that he'd grow out of. He'd just say things about people that he definitely shouldn't, and not even seem to realise what he was rambling on about. The rest of the family couldn't get a word in edgeways, and she found it irritating. It also irritated her that she didn't seem to be able to control her five-year- old. His eight-year-old sister, Jessica, was a completely different matter. She was generally quiet and polite, seeming to be totally adorable to anyone who met her. Of course, Abby and John knew the real Jess, but that was still much easier to manage than Harry.
A flash of red on the top of the big climbing frame suddenly caught her eye. She wasn't sure why it should, since any number of children could have jackets that colour. Never the less, she looked up, only to find Harry sat on the top. She leapt out of her seat and charged across the playground. "Harry!" she screamed, certain he was going to fall. He turned around to look at her, and took one hand off the bars to wave at her. "No, Harry, hold on tight!" her voice was now filled with anxiety. What if he fell? "Harry, can you get down? Please, sweetie, get down."
"I can see everything up here Mummy! It's so great, I'm going to come up here every time I go to the park. I can see right the way to the duck pond! Come up and see Mum." He didn't seem to notice his mother's worry, and just continued to sit at the top.
"Harry," she called, trying once again. "Please, just get down."
"Why, are we going? Where are we going Mummy? Can we go to see Daddy at work? They might need your help too, like they sometimes do when they have an emergency. I could sit in the Doctor's Lounge, and I could look at some pictures, and play with Daddy's stethoscope. Can I, Mummy, can I?"
Abby didn't see any other choice. "Get down and we'll have to see."
"Yay!" Harry cried, and jumped down off the climbing frame. Right from the top, all the way to the floor. Abby let out a scream, and rushed towards the child bundled up on the floor. When she reached him she found he was curled up in a ball laughing. "That was fun, Mum." She breathed a sigh of relief, before grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet.
"Come on young man, we're going before you get into anymore trouble."
"Did you see me Mum? I was up so high, and then I jumped right to the floor, and it was so much fun! And see, I didn't hurt myself one bit. I don't think anyone else could have done that as well as me. Are you proud of me Mummy? Huh, are you?" Abby tried her best to block her son's ramblings out of her head, and focused all of her energy on getting him to the car which was at the other end of the park.
*** Abby flopped down onto the sofa, exhausted. For once she couldn't wait for her shift tomorrow: it meant a chance to get away for Harry and his youthful enthusiasm. It was more than just enthusiasm. He was downright crazy, and she could have sworn the child had the ability to not breath for several minutes. That was what it seemed like when he was talking, anyway. Both children were now in bed, and she had a chance to relax. John would be home in an hour, so she could finally relax properly. She hadn't seen him since her short visit to the ER with Harry earlier in the day, and she was in desperate need of a happiness boost. Feeling guilty for bribing Harry with the possibility of a 'trip to see Daddy,' she'd taken him to County General. They only popped in for long enough to say hi, and time for her to have a quick kiss with John. Then they'd gone across to Doc Magoo's for some chips, before going to pick Jessica up from her friend's house. Harry hadn't stopped talking the whole time, and she was about ready to strangle the child by the time he went to bed. She'd battled with him for over an hour before he finally went to sleep. He'd insisted he wasn't tired, and no matter what she tried he just wouldn't get into bed. She was grateful to Jess, who'd thought to tell him that if you didn't go to bed by a certain time you didn't get to have dreams. It was a lie, and she'd always taught Jess not to lie, but this one time she decided to let it go.
Just then, the phone rang. She groaned, and forced herself out of the sofa where she'd been quite comfortable. Snatching the phone off the hook, she tried to muster her nicest, friendliest voice, and said "Hello?"
"Hi Abby. It's Eric," the voice of her younger brother came through the phone. She immediately knew something was wrong. Eric never rang 'just to chat.'
"What's wrong?" she decided to cut to the point.
"It's Mum." How had she guessed? "She's stopped taking her meds again. I didn't realise, but the other day she had a manic episode. It's the worst I've seen her in ages."
"She goes through good and bad spells Eric, we both know that. Talk to her psychiatrist, she may be able to change the medication."
"Abby, it can't keep on like this. She's not safe when she doesn't take her meds. When I came home from work on Tuesday she'd completely vandalised the living room, and was walking around just playing with a knife."
"On Tuesday? Why didn't you ring me before?" Abby enquired. Sometimes she had no patience for him.
"I thought you'd get cross at her. Decided to let the manic episode pass first." This angered Abby. Of course, he was right. She didn't understand her mother's aversion to meds, and it made her mad when they weren't taken.
"Of course I'm cross at her, she should take the flipping meds." She took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from getting cross with him. This wasn't Eric's fault. "Look, you know the routine Eric. Get her an appointment with the psychiatrist. Until she's back on the meds make sure someone's with her at all times. I'm only a phone call away, so let me know what's going on if there are any developments."
"Thanks Abby," he seemed truly grateful. "I know I didn't need to ring you to know to do that stuff, but it helps."
"Bye Eric."
"Bye." When she heard the dial tone again, she replaced the phone on the hook.
When they were kids, a mother with bipolar disorder was fun. Now, it seemed to be an inconvenience to Abby. She loved her mother dearly, but sometimes it was very difficult. Bipolar disorder could be a family destroyer, she thought, something which no one should be.
"Oh no! Please no!" Abby cried as she leapt towards the bookshelf, and grabbed a book she knew contained information on bipolar disorder. "Not Harry, this can't be happening," she whispered as she flicked to the page she needed: the symptoms of a manic episode. This didn't even bear thinking about, but she had. She looked down at the page and forced herself to read the symptoms. She examined the list, checking Harry off against each thing.
Increased physical and mental activity and energy. Well, you could say that, Abby though. He was certainly very energetic.
Exaggerated optimism and self-confidence. She wasn't really certain on that, he wasn't exactly an over-optimistic child.
Excessive irritability and aggressive behaviour. No, that wasn't Harry. She could quite safely say he was one of the gentlest children she'd ever known.
Decreased need for sleep. Abby's mind travelled to the last few hours, and her inability to get Harry to bed. Was it just normal childish obstinance, or a sign of bipolar disorder?
Inflated sense of self-importance. Harry wasn't like that either. Abby almost let herself think that maybe everything was okay, but then she saw the next symptom on the list.
Racing speech, racing thoughts and flight of ideas. Harry certainly had the ability to babble on endlessly, switching from subject to subject. Today's ramble at the park was certainly proof of that.
Impulsiveness and poor judgement. Abby sighed heavily. Jumping off the top of that climbing frame certainly counted as poor judgement. So did climbing it in the first place actually, she thought.
The last thing on the list was delusions and hallucinations. Certainly not something Harry was having, but Abby knew that that was a symptom of very severe cases; Harry could still be bipolar. She knew that the symptoms varied from person to person, and it was very rare that any one person suffered them all. The probability that Harry could be bipolar scared her more than anything ever had before. No panikcing before she had kids could have prepared her for this.
She put the book down on the table, suddenly realising that her hands were shaking and she had tears rolling down her cheeks. She tried to stop herself from crying, but realised it was useless. And she should be allowed to cry for her baby anyway.
*** Carter opened the front door and walked into the house, relieved to be home after a long shift. Now he could see Abby, and relax for the evening. And tomorrow he had a late shift, so he'd be able to see the kids for most of the day.
He walked into the living room, to find Abby sitting on the sofa watching the news. Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders, and bent down and kissed her on the top of her head. "Good evening," he whispered. She didn't reply to him, and when she turned around he could see that she'd been crying.
"Abby, whatever's the matter?" he asked, reaching out to hug his wife. She pointed towards the table, where a book lay open. He walked over to it, and read the title of the page: 'symptoms of a manic episode.' He turned round to look at Abby. "What's this all about?"
"Harry," she said, and he could see a tear beginning to slide down her cheek again. He made his way back to the sofa, and sat down, pulling her into his arms.
"You think Harry's bipolar?" She nodded. "Why? I mean, what's happened?" He was scared. He'd always tried to pretend he didn't think there was much risk of the kids being bipolar, because he thought it would reassure Abby. But he was really terrified. Harry was his son, one of the most important people in his life. He'd still have Harry if he was bipolar, but he couldn't help thinking it would be a different Harry.
"Eric rang earlier," Abby started to explain. "Mum's had another manic episode. And I was thinking about her, and I suddenly realised that Harry's symptoms fit with bipolar disorder." She sniffed.
"What symptoms?" he queried. He wasn't sure what she was talking about, he hadn't noticed anything wrong with Harry.
"He's over excited, doesn't seem to need as much sleep as he ought to, he."
"Abby, all five year olds are like that. It's just a stage he's."
"No!" Abby interrupted. "This is different. He's impulsive, has no sense of danger at all. Oh John, what are we going to do?" She wiped a tear from her cheek.
"You need to explain what you mean," he said, hugging her tighter as a reassurance that he was there for her.
"This afternoon he climbed right to the top of the big climbing frame at the park, and then jumped off it, even when I was shouting him to stop."
"Abby, you're being paranoid. All boys of his age are looking for a bit of action, you've got to learn to trust that he's fine. They're both fine." He turned her to look him in the eyes. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes," she began. "No! John, the symptoms match up to those of bipolar disorder. I can't believe that it's just a coincidence." She looked him straight in the eye. "The risk of him being bipolar is."
"Minimal," he cut her off. "Remember what we found out? 15% chance that they're each bipolar.
"That's 15% too much," Abby sniffed. "Please John, just let me have him checked out. What's the harm in that if you think he's fine?" John looked at his wife's beautiful, distressed face. It was worth it, to make her happy again.
"Yeah," he said, taking her hand. "We'll do it."
***
"Mum, look at that, don't you think that's so exciting? That kid must be so big to be able to go all the way up there, right to the top," Harry enthused, pointing to the top of the climbing frame in the park. "I'm going to be big like that one day, and I'll go right to the top, and I'll be able to see the whole world. And Mummy, is Jessie big enough to go up there? Jessie's a big girl, isn't she? And I'm a big boy, but I'm not big enough to go up on the top of the big climbing frame yet. One day I will be though, won't I Mummy? Because everybody grows bigger. Unless they die, which is really sad, but I'm not going to die, I'm going to grow up big and tall and strong like Daddy. And I'm gonna be real clever too, and get into a really clever school, and be the top of my class." The five-year-old paused to finally take a breath, allowing his mother to get a word in.
"Harry, calm down. It's just a climbing frame, you can go on the smaller one. Stop getting so excited over nothing," Abby said, trying to hold her temper. The child wore her out sometimes.
"Okay Mummy, I was saying that when I'm bigger I will be able to go on it. Weren't you ever excited about being able to do things that bigger people did when you were little?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I bet you were. Little people get excited, and everyone's little sometime. Everyone, even you and Daddy. But I know you and Daddy were little, because you can be real nice to me and Jess, and so you must know what it's like to be a kid. Even Dr. Weaver was a kid once; she has to have been. But I don't think she was. I think she was a monster who came from another planet, and was never little. She's too horrible to have been little. Nobody likes Dr. Weaver, do they Mummy? She's not nice to a single person, she just tells everyone off, and doesn't let them do things the way they want to either. Do you like Dr. Weaver? I know Daddy doesn't, I heard him saying to Auntie Susan one time. He said some really horrible things about Dr. Weaver. Mummy, how can you tell me off for saying horrible things about people when Daddy says horrible things too? I think Daddy's a very bad person, for being like that. Jess told me that that makes him a hippie-o-crit. Is that a really bad thing, Mummy? Is that something I can call people when we're arguing? I think that would be really cool, if next time Jess is horrid to me I could go 'Jess, you are such a hippie-o-crit. Just shut up.' Don't you think Mum? I do, it would sound so good, and she'd be so surprised that I remembered the big word, and."
"That's enough, Harry," Abby interrupted. "Don't say such horrible things about people. If I hear you saying things like that again you are going to be in big trouble."
"Very big trouble?"
"Very big trouble," she confirmed. "Now go and play in the playground, and try to be nice, and keep that mouth of yours shut for once." He nodded, making a zipping motion across his mouth, and running towards the play area. Abby walked towards the nearest bench and sat down to watch her son play. He was very hyperactive sometimes, and she worried that one day it would get him into trouble. She hoped it was just a phase that he'd grow out of. He'd just say things about people that he definitely shouldn't, and not even seem to realise what he was rambling on about. The rest of the family couldn't get a word in edgeways, and she found it irritating. It also irritated her that she didn't seem to be able to control her five-year- old. His eight-year-old sister, Jessica, was a completely different matter. She was generally quiet and polite, seeming to be totally adorable to anyone who met her. Of course, Abby and John knew the real Jess, but that was still much easier to manage than Harry.
A flash of red on the top of the big climbing frame suddenly caught her eye. She wasn't sure why it should, since any number of children could have jackets that colour. Never the less, she looked up, only to find Harry sat on the top. She leapt out of her seat and charged across the playground. "Harry!" she screamed, certain he was going to fall. He turned around to look at her, and took one hand off the bars to wave at her. "No, Harry, hold on tight!" her voice was now filled with anxiety. What if he fell? "Harry, can you get down? Please, sweetie, get down."
"I can see everything up here Mummy! It's so great, I'm going to come up here every time I go to the park. I can see right the way to the duck pond! Come up and see Mum." He didn't seem to notice his mother's worry, and just continued to sit at the top.
"Harry," she called, trying once again. "Please, just get down."
"Why, are we going? Where are we going Mummy? Can we go to see Daddy at work? They might need your help too, like they sometimes do when they have an emergency. I could sit in the Doctor's Lounge, and I could look at some pictures, and play with Daddy's stethoscope. Can I, Mummy, can I?"
Abby didn't see any other choice. "Get down and we'll have to see."
"Yay!" Harry cried, and jumped down off the climbing frame. Right from the top, all the way to the floor. Abby let out a scream, and rushed towards the child bundled up on the floor. When she reached him she found he was curled up in a ball laughing. "That was fun, Mum." She breathed a sigh of relief, before grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet.
"Come on young man, we're going before you get into anymore trouble."
"Did you see me Mum? I was up so high, and then I jumped right to the floor, and it was so much fun! And see, I didn't hurt myself one bit. I don't think anyone else could have done that as well as me. Are you proud of me Mummy? Huh, are you?" Abby tried her best to block her son's ramblings out of her head, and focused all of her energy on getting him to the car which was at the other end of the park.
*** Abby flopped down onto the sofa, exhausted. For once she couldn't wait for her shift tomorrow: it meant a chance to get away for Harry and his youthful enthusiasm. It was more than just enthusiasm. He was downright crazy, and she could have sworn the child had the ability to not breath for several minutes. That was what it seemed like when he was talking, anyway. Both children were now in bed, and she had a chance to relax. John would be home in an hour, so she could finally relax properly. She hadn't seen him since her short visit to the ER with Harry earlier in the day, and she was in desperate need of a happiness boost. Feeling guilty for bribing Harry with the possibility of a 'trip to see Daddy,' she'd taken him to County General. They only popped in for long enough to say hi, and time for her to have a quick kiss with John. Then they'd gone across to Doc Magoo's for some chips, before going to pick Jessica up from her friend's house. Harry hadn't stopped talking the whole time, and she was about ready to strangle the child by the time he went to bed. She'd battled with him for over an hour before he finally went to sleep. He'd insisted he wasn't tired, and no matter what she tried he just wouldn't get into bed. She was grateful to Jess, who'd thought to tell him that if you didn't go to bed by a certain time you didn't get to have dreams. It was a lie, and she'd always taught Jess not to lie, but this one time she decided to let it go.
Just then, the phone rang. She groaned, and forced herself out of the sofa where she'd been quite comfortable. Snatching the phone off the hook, she tried to muster her nicest, friendliest voice, and said "Hello?"
"Hi Abby. It's Eric," the voice of her younger brother came through the phone. She immediately knew something was wrong. Eric never rang 'just to chat.'
"What's wrong?" she decided to cut to the point.
"It's Mum." How had she guessed? "She's stopped taking her meds again. I didn't realise, but the other day she had a manic episode. It's the worst I've seen her in ages."
"She goes through good and bad spells Eric, we both know that. Talk to her psychiatrist, she may be able to change the medication."
"Abby, it can't keep on like this. She's not safe when she doesn't take her meds. When I came home from work on Tuesday she'd completely vandalised the living room, and was walking around just playing with a knife."
"On Tuesday? Why didn't you ring me before?" Abby enquired. Sometimes she had no patience for him.
"I thought you'd get cross at her. Decided to let the manic episode pass first." This angered Abby. Of course, he was right. She didn't understand her mother's aversion to meds, and it made her mad when they weren't taken.
"Of course I'm cross at her, she should take the flipping meds." She took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from getting cross with him. This wasn't Eric's fault. "Look, you know the routine Eric. Get her an appointment with the psychiatrist. Until she's back on the meds make sure someone's with her at all times. I'm only a phone call away, so let me know what's going on if there are any developments."
"Thanks Abby," he seemed truly grateful. "I know I didn't need to ring you to know to do that stuff, but it helps."
"Bye Eric."
"Bye." When she heard the dial tone again, she replaced the phone on the hook.
When they were kids, a mother with bipolar disorder was fun. Now, it seemed to be an inconvenience to Abby. She loved her mother dearly, but sometimes it was very difficult. Bipolar disorder could be a family destroyer, she thought, something which no one should be.
"Oh no! Please no!" Abby cried as she leapt towards the bookshelf, and grabbed a book she knew contained information on bipolar disorder. "Not Harry, this can't be happening," she whispered as she flicked to the page she needed: the symptoms of a manic episode. This didn't even bear thinking about, but she had. She looked down at the page and forced herself to read the symptoms. She examined the list, checking Harry off against each thing.
Increased physical and mental activity and energy. Well, you could say that, Abby though. He was certainly very energetic.
Exaggerated optimism and self-confidence. She wasn't really certain on that, he wasn't exactly an over-optimistic child.
Excessive irritability and aggressive behaviour. No, that wasn't Harry. She could quite safely say he was one of the gentlest children she'd ever known.
Decreased need for sleep. Abby's mind travelled to the last few hours, and her inability to get Harry to bed. Was it just normal childish obstinance, or a sign of bipolar disorder?
Inflated sense of self-importance. Harry wasn't like that either. Abby almost let herself think that maybe everything was okay, but then she saw the next symptom on the list.
Racing speech, racing thoughts and flight of ideas. Harry certainly had the ability to babble on endlessly, switching from subject to subject. Today's ramble at the park was certainly proof of that.
Impulsiveness and poor judgement. Abby sighed heavily. Jumping off the top of that climbing frame certainly counted as poor judgement. So did climbing it in the first place actually, she thought.
The last thing on the list was delusions and hallucinations. Certainly not something Harry was having, but Abby knew that that was a symptom of very severe cases; Harry could still be bipolar. She knew that the symptoms varied from person to person, and it was very rare that any one person suffered them all. The probability that Harry could be bipolar scared her more than anything ever had before. No panikcing before she had kids could have prepared her for this.
She put the book down on the table, suddenly realising that her hands were shaking and she had tears rolling down her cheeks. She tried to stop herself from crying, but realised it was useless. And she should be allowed to cry for her baby anyway.
*** Carter opened the front door and walked into the house, relieved to be home after a long shift. Now he could see Abby, and relax for the evening. And tomorrow he had a late shift, so he'd be able to see the kids for most of the day.
He walked into the living room, to find Abby sitting on the sofa watching the news. Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders, and bent down and kissed her on the top of her head. "Good evening," he whispered. She didn't reply to him, and when she turned around he could see that she'd been crying.
"Abby, whatever's the matter?" he asked, reaching out to hug his wife. She pointed towards the table, where a book lay open. He walked over to it, and read the title of the page: 'symptoms of a manic episode.' He turned round to look at Abby. "What's this all about?"
"Harry," she said, and he could see a tear beginning to slide down her cheek again. He made his way back to the sofa, and sat down, pulling her into his arms.
"You think Harry's bipolar?" She nodded. "Why? I mean, what's happened?" He was scared. He'd always tried to pretend he didn't think there was much risk of the kids being bipolar, because he thought it would reassure Abby. But he was really terrified. Harry was his son, one of the most important people in his life. He'd still have Harry if he was bipolar, but he couldn't help thinking it would be a different Harry.
"Eric rang earlier," Abby started to explain. "Mum's had another manic episode. And I was thinking about her, and I suddenly realised that Harry's symptoms fit with bipolar disorder." She sniffed.
"What symptoms?" he queried. He wasn't sure what she was talking about, he hadn't noticed anything wrong with Harry.
"He's over excited, doesn't seem to need as much sleep as he ought to, he."
"Abby, all five year olds are like that. It's just a stage he's."
"No!" Abby interrupted. "This is different. He's impulsive, has no sense of danger at all. Oh John, what are we going to do?" She wiped a tear from her cheek.
"You need to explain what you mean," he said, hugging her tighter as a reassurance that he was there for her.
"This afternoon he climbed right to the top of the big climbing frame at the park, and then jumped off it, even when I was shouting him to stop."
"Abby, you're being paranoid. All boys of his age are looking for a bit of action, you've got to learn to trust that he's fine. They're both fine." He turned her to look him in the eyes. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes," she began. "No! John, the symptoms match up to those of bipolar disorder. I can't believe that it's just a coincidence." She looked him straight in the eye. "The risk of him being bipolar is."
"Minimal," he cut her off. "Remember what we found out? 15% chance that they're each bipolar.
"That's 15% too much," Abby sniffed. "Please John, just let me have him checked out. What's the harm in that if you think he's fine?" John looked at his wife's beautiful, distressed face. It was worth it, to make her happy again.
"Yeah," he said, taking her hand. "We'll do it."
***