Glimpses of Normalcy
"Like every great religion of the past we seek to find the divinity within and to express this revelation in a life of glorification and the worship of God. These ancient goals we define in the metaphor of the present — turn on, tune in, drop out."
Timothy Leary
As loud as drumming soldiers on the march to war, I was aware of every little sound in the villa as I lay on my back, flat and unable to move. The ceiling expanded and contorted into a series of shapes, and black shadows danced against the morning mottled light which rained through the palms into my room. It felt like my body was about to seize and spasm, but then all of that dreadful heaviness dissolved into air. Life was like gliding on silk, everything felt slippery and wide, my fingers loose and distended. My stomach sat somewhere near the floor, and my head soared above the ceiling, into the sky. It was like my soul was rushing from my body, and I tried steadying myself against all of that movement. From the ceiling, I watched my clumsy body still in its clothes from yesterday fall from the bed onto the floor.
Somewhere the tap was running in the house, and the noise was driving me insane. A roaring waterfall had been beating my ears senseless. I flailed, knocking the lamp on my nightstand to the floor, and my medication went flying, a volley of tablets scattered and shined like diamonds, and then all was still and silent. "I am" became inconsequential to just being. My life, my marriage, Nibelheim, Sephiroth, Cloud, Johnny, and all of those other little nagging issues faded into background noise like the quiet grey static on an old television set left on at night.
It never really sat well with Johnny the way Tifa had gone running off like that yesterday after they'd kissed in his bathroom. Guilt gnawed at him, and it took more than a little courage to leave his house that morning to confront Tifa and Cloud. What had happened last night couldn't ever happen again, and he started to call her, but if Cloud answered, what could he say or do? He would've spilt his guts on the line, and Tifa would have a whole new set of problems.
Sobriety was damning state of mind; he shouldn't have had a drop to drink when he was dining with another man's wife whom he'd always desired. He would have never…It was stupid to ponder over the "would have never's" now, because what was done could never be undone. Tifa and Cloud must've been really loaded, he thought as he walked up the street on the high end of Costa del Sol. He passed villa after villa, each grander and larger than the last. Big adobe style homes, wide palms and gigantic swimming pools, and maids and gardeners busy toiling away for the city's wealthy littered the street. He'd never seen such splendor. He used to think his little rented room in Midgar was something grand when he'd first left Nibelheim, but this was surely the type of place a god would live. Now that he thought about it, didn't Tifa and Cloud own old President Shinra's place?
Their villa stood apart from the rest. The walkway to the front door showcased a modest little garden, something more honest than all of the others on the street- home built and maintained by its owners. Johnny could almost see Tifa on her knees pruning the roses in the front yard beneath the windows; the deep red hibiscuses and purple orchids lining the walkway each had that lovingly cared for look to them, and Johnny almost grinned despite himself. That was one ineffable trait Tifa possessed; he could never understand her capacity to feel the need to care for every, little living thing, but as he neared the door, a growing sense of wrongness swept over him. The front door stood ajar; thick tropical flies hung around the gloom and flittered in and out of the quiet house.
He should have knocked, but Johnny couldn't help himself. He pushed back the door and walked in; the house was impossibly clean. The marble floors had been scrubbed to their most pristine state, and everything was orderly like the page out of one of those magazines about homes and gardens, and he had to hand it to her- Tifa was one hell of a decorator…among other things, and then that nagging guilt came back tenfold with that thought. It was impossibly wrong of him to waltz right into another man's home, especially after he'd slept with his wife. He had to explain and apologize, but what in the world was he going to say?
"Cloud," he called. No response. The villa sat silent, and then that sense of something being very, very wrong about the place returned. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he paced further into the villa, closing the door behind him. Perhaps, he could find them both in the backyard or something. Neither Cloud nor Tifa had been at the bar that morning which was where he'd gone first. He had no clue where he was going and turned down one hall that appeared promising, calling for Cloud and sometimes even Tifa, and then he suddenly found himself before another slightly ajar door. The lights were on, and he heard a faint gurgling like someone drowning and fighting for air. Slowly, Johnny pushed back the door, and there on the floor, on a bed of tangled sheets, pills, and vomited blood lay Tifa. Her red, red eyes were far off and burned dully with a feverous fire.
She rasped for breath, flailing and crying weakly in pain, and Johnny stood stock still for a moment. His heart nearly leapt from his chest, and then he sprang into action, lunging for the phone and dialing the emergency number.
"I need an ambulance immediately!" he screamed onto the line.
"What's the problem, Sir," the operator replied unfretted by his panic.
"I don't know. I don't know," Johnny sputtered at her, "I think it's an overdose. You gotta send someone here quick. Shit, I don't think she's breathing."
"We're tracing the call now, Sir. The ambulance is on its way. Now first, Mr…"
"Costello," Johnny supplied, taking a frantic look at Tifa, "My name's Johnny Costello."
"Mr. Costello," The operator began in a no nonsense tone, "First, I need you to calm down. This is the residence of Cloud and Tifa Strife, correct?"
"Yes," Johnny grunted. What the hell did that have to do with anything? Right now, Tifa was lying here dying, and this woman was asking him stupid questions, "Tell me what to do. Come on. She's dying, ma'am-"
The operator cut him, "Mr. Costello, calm down. You're doing more harm than good. Now, I need you lift Tifa, I'm assuming it's her. Yes. Okay. Now lift Tifa and get her on her feet. Walk her to the living room. Trust me, Mr. Costello, this is actually doing her a lot of good. Stay on the line with me until the paramedics arrive."
Juggling the phone and attempting to get Tifa up on her feet was easier said than done. She was still unconscious, her eyes open and unseeing; Johnny put an arm around her waist, attempting to move her. He dragged her along the floor more than she walked, "Now what. I have her on her feet. She's still out of it. Now what?"
"Just keep her up and check if her airway is obstructed. The paramedics will be there in seconds."
Sure enough, within several seconds, the paramedics were at the door, and his life suddenly became a lot more complicated. He watched them hoist Tifa into the ambulance, and they asked him if he wanted to ride with them to the hospital, holding her hand should she regain consciousness. They explained that it was best for the patient to have someone familiar nearby when they finally regained consciousness out of what one paramedic snickered and called "the hole". Johnny frowned; there was nothing funny about this whole situation.
"Yeah, I have to leave a note or something for her husband," after all, Cloud of all people had a right to know where his wife was at. He dug in his pockets for anything, a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbled out a hasty, shaking message, and hopped into the ambulance, feeling guiltier than he already had been. As they rode to hospital, Johnny gripping Tifa's dead, cold hand tightly, he couldn't but ponder if this'd been a suicide attempt.
We get problems like this in the clinic all of the time. Some rich, over-privileged pig is dabbling in drugs he shouldn't be touching while he maintains this squeaky clean outside image in polite society if you know what I'm saying. You see anyone walks in to see a new general practitioner wearing enough gold and jewels is treated like royalty, and by the end of that appointment, that GP will give them anything that they're asking for. Us average joes scraping by day by day and living `til the next pay check could only wish for treatment so good. It's the same with celebs…in fact even more so for them. Now, I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but five thousand gil is one hell of a persuader. You see, Mrs. Strife was found with enough ketamine in her system to down a bull. Let's just say it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than an esuna to counteract that. No one even prescribes that as a sleeping aid, more of an antidepressant if you see what I'm saying, but can you even imagine that one of the planet's saviors is an addict? Heh, looks like even gods fall from their majesty. Just goes to show you that even the boys and gals in Avalanche ain't so golden after all…
"Keep the news away from her, Mr. Strife. She can't know. It'll just distress her with the state she's in…"
Yesterday, I thought I saw the vast greenness of the Lifestream, and I felt like I was a part of it. I woke up whispering my name which I couldn't remember at first. It was like being born again in a sterile white room, and the first thing I felt was a deep, deep hunger. It was too soon to open my eyes- everything hurt and bled together in that intensely sterile whiteness. I was hooked up to an IV and started wondering what the hell happened yesterday. There was perhaps only one other time in my life where I experienced a loss of time, and that was back in Nibelheim after Sephiroth had done his best to cleave me in two. People were talking over me, about me, and I heard someone say something about the news. Was I dying from some serious illness, and did they want to keep it away from me? Death was preferable a thousand times over to the way I was feeling now. It was like someone had gone in and jumbled my intestines around, knotting them while they were at it.
No one could ever feel this way.
I tried opening my eyes again, and this time sight came easier; shapes and colors focused correctly into view. The room was larger than what I'd expected for a personal hospital room- a few potted plants dotted the window sills, little gifts from the bar regulars. I even had my own television, and I tried pulling myself into a sitting position, but someone pushed me back down. Cloud.
"You should be resting," he was noncommittal as ever.
"I," I squinted and weakly jerked away, "What happened."
He could've smirked nastily, but honestly with the way my eyes were even now, I couldn't tell, "Apparently you tried to off yourself. Those sleeping meds were a little more than what they seemed, weren't they? Hmm, Teef?"
Cloud only ever, ever called me by that name when he was angry with me; he knew I hated it, but the more alarming news was that I'd attempted suicide. No. Never! I may have been unhappy, but I was never that unhappy.
"Tch, I knew it," Cloud spat, "You just accidentally overdosed, didn't you?"
I rolled my eyes, "You have every right to hate me now, Cloud…for what I did," then I paused looking for the words in my still very foggy state of mind, "But, did you really wish that I'd died. Did you want to hear that I'd kill myself because you rode off like usual," and then I sneered, "If I ever had a reason to do myself in, then it'd be for me ever even considering marrying you. Now who found me? I know it wasn't you."
Cloud snorted, "Our good, good friend, Mr. Costello. He so diligently left me a note after he strolled in our house. Coming back for seconds, I assume. I came in here and had the staff send him packing. I was just talking with your nurse; by the evening, you'll be good to go."
"Good," I smiled softly and pulled myself up against the headboard, using what little strength I had left, "Now get the hell out."
He had the nerve to look taken aback.
"Wipe that look off of your face, Cloud, and get ready because this was a long time coming. At first, I wanted to hate and blame myself for what happened two days ago, and yeah, that's still my fault. But, you and I are finished. Keep the villa, keep the bar; I looked at my life, and I wonder why I'm miserable when everything points back to you-" he started to interrupt me.
I raised my hand to silence him, "I lived with you for three years. Here," I waved my hand around for emphasis, "I was your live-in girlfriend. I dealt with your tantrums, your little periods of going hot and cold. You outright accused me of being a wretched girlfriend and told me more than once that I'd ruined your life. All of that just because I wasn't because I wasn't Aeris? You are a real bastard, Cloud. Who can compete for a man fighting to stay in love with someone else? I loved you, cooked for you, cleaned up your messes, and I built and managed that bar from day one, and then one day, you were seemingly over it all. You swoop in and want to be the town's playboy, the local little celebrity, posing here and there. Did you ever once think that I was hurting inside, did you ever once think that I might be in pain here? No, never occurred to you even once, did it? I know that I'm saying I and me a lot here, and that may sound selfish, but now that I think about when was the last time I'd ever done anything for myself?" and by then, I was screaming, standing on wobbling legs, dragging my IV beside me as I rounded on his shrinking form. It was like he was trying to disappear into the wall, and that made me even angrier, "No, I tried so hard. I told you not to keep it inside that we should work through this thing together, but, you, you're so determined to be so aloof and nonchalant. Then, you ask me to marry you last month and that's supposed to put a big bandage on everything. Poof, the cut's gone, and it's all better? I don't think so, Cloud."
Beneath the floors of our villa, behind that success and the outward fame, behind those big, fake smiles, and who knows what else we'd done to appear like the perfect couple in public life, an infectious wound had been festering, and it'd seemingly healed for awhile but the infection was still there- a big pustule had grown up over it, red, swollen, and irritated, and today was the day it burst. I refused to be the thing that Cloud took for granted anymore. I let go of my IV and reached for my ring finger, pulling the gold band that I'd never wanted from the finger it'd held captive for what I felt was far too long, and glared at the diamond. The stone was a deed to Cloud's ownership of me, and with all of my strength I flung it at his face.
"Now, get the hell out."
He left, and I collapsed into a crying heap. The nurses had come running in and dragged me back into bed. So much for being brave and strong…who was I kidding? They extended my stay for several days for observation and therapy, and that was how I found myself sitting across from Dr. Catherine Klein or Cat as she wanted me to call her. They'd given me a wean-off dosage of ketamine and then it was natural herbs, healthy dieting, and positive thinking to keep me healthy. What a crock of nonsense, or that's what I thought, at least at first when this therapy all started.
Cat was pretty in a very clinical way, her face all straight, clear features. Her were eyes were hazel, and her black hair was almost always up in a fancy up do whenever I saw her which I thought was strange for a doctor at first, but after a few visits, the look definitely suited her.
She was as blunt as anything, and her very first question was, "Well, Tifa, I want you to be completely honest with me. Did you try to kill yourself?"
"No," I blanched, the very thought was appalling. The martial artist in me would never allow me to die in such a way.
"I must ask why you were prescribed ketamine? Your former GP said he'd prescribed it to you as an experimental antidepressant."
I chuckled ruefully, it was just like a doctor to throw something at you rather than deal with your baggage, but Cat was different, "I was having trouble sleeping."
She saw right through that, "Surely he would've just prescribed regular sleeping medication if it were just insomnia. Tifa, I assure, anything said in this room-"
This room, I glanced at the confines of these four little walls and scoffed. Just how confidential were the nurses who'd pumped my stomach clean and filtered fluids in and out of my body. By the second day in the hospital, I'd gotten my hands on a tabloid in the lobby downstairs with my swollen face on the cover, my blood stained lips, and Johnny gripping my hand as if I'd already died. I'd read what an anonymous interviewee had said about me and shook my head.
"Doctor. Let's be serious here."
"Cat," she corrected, "Tifa, I know what you're thinking, and I want you to know that I'm not some LPN working part time here who doesn't give a damn about doctor-patient confidentiality, but you can trust me…even if you feel like you can't right now."
It always irked me when people pretended that they knew what I was going through, but maybe I'd give this honesty thing a shot, and that's how I became friends Dr. Klein. What was supposed to be a few days of therapy had expanded into a week, and I told her everything…even about me and Sephiroth and just how deep that rabbit hole ran. I expected her to stare at me in disgust and pull away, telling me to get out of her office, but there was nothing except a compassionate smile, and she took my hand.
I'd been staying in the hospital all that time at her suggestion. It was cheaper than a fancy hotel, and my insurance covered it. The food wasn't even that terrible. I made an almost full recovery physically in a day or two, and I'd taken up boxing in the hospital's gym to keep myself fit because I just wasn't up to running yet along the boardwalk surrounded by so many others' judgmental stares.
Cat was outside the gym waiting one day, watching me through the glass, and landed me with one of the strangest questions I'd ever been asked.
"Tifa, do you know what a bear is?"
"A what?" I asked, casting my glance towards her.
"A bear," she repeated.
I folded my arms and leaned my head against the glass, "Big, burly, extinct animal. It looks kind of like an overgrown dog, only fatter. I saw a drawing of one once in an old biology book at the library."
"Yeah, almost exactly like that," she laughed, and as we she started off down the hall to the cafeteria, she turned to me and said," You're a bit like a mother bear, Tifa. Don't look at me like that, a mother bear bar the fat and fur. Before I became a psychologist, I was studying to be a zoologist, and we had to be well versed in the old extinct animals. Now, bears, they're these wickedly strong creatures, but as strong they are, a mother bear will fight tooth and nail for her cubs even if it means her death."
"I don't see where this is going, Cat. I don't have any children," I interrupted, and she quickly shushed me.
"Don't ruin this analogy, Tifa, with your cynicism," she stuck out her tongue, "You make everyone that's weaker than you, your cub like Cloud and your old friends in Avalanche, but you never take the time to mother yourself. You're what we call in psychological terms- extraverted, sensing, feeling, and judging or ESFJ for short. You feel secure in stable environments, and you enjoy nurturing others to bring out the best in them, but in instability, you crumble. You're a helper and skeptic, and you might just think I'm throwing words at you, but let it sink in."
And, think I did as we walked along that sterile white hall. I let Cat order for me in the cafeteria, and she brought back two steaming heaps of that soy substitute for meat that she enjoyed so much and knew I hated. Sometimes, I think she did it irk me. She was funny like that. We ate in silence; eating had always been a really visceral activity for me, and I think she'd picked up on my discomfort over talking over food after our first few cafeteria meetings. I'd smile and talk too much to compensate for how anxious I'd feel.
After lunch, we made our way back to her office, and I sat across from her.
"So," she began," What do you think?"
"I think you're right. I've been bottling Nibelheim and Sephiroth down for so long because I couldn't deal with them, and there were always so many other problems popping up that seemed so much more urgent."
She nodded, "Now, what do you intend to do about it all?"
I looked up, "I was thinking about going back to Nibelheim, but I don't know if I'm strong enough for that."
"You know you are," she clicked her tongue, something she'd do whenever she was irritated, "What are you shying away from?" Cat strode over to her window and opened it wide, letting the warm, humid breeze waft in, "You had a rough childhood even before what happened to Nibelheim. You were the motherless daughter of an alcoholic father in a town with absolutely nothing going for it, and I hate to state it so bluntly, but it is what it is. You told me yourself that you felt you didn't have a future to look forward to enjoying. You latched onto the symbol of SOLDIER, grasping for the strength you felt that you didn't have, and attached yourself to its most iconic hero, Sephiroth. With his complete breakdown as you described, he probably saw something of himself in you- and your relationship was an unhealthy codependency from the start."
I couldn't do anything but nod, she'd stated it so plainly.
She continued on, "You can get even bitterer, or you can get better, Tifa. You have to confront your demons, and as your doctor, I'll be with you every step of the way. Now, you have to go to Nibelheim, and I would go with you, but I am needed here, but at any minute of day, and I mean at any minute, you can call me if you need to talk, but you really need to get the hell of out of this city for awhile. Doctor's orders," she frowned at the beach in the distance through the window, "Costa del Sol's only heaven in small doses; to live here full time with the gossip, the tabloids, and all of the damn yellow journalists skulking in every dark alleyway is something you don't need right now. Now get out and go mend."
Catherine Klein was the tough love that I'd needed all of my life. I'd always been an only child, but now it felt like I'd gained a new sister in the world.
A/N: Next chapter, the return to Nibelheim. This chapter should be up faster than this one was written and uploaded. I'd originally had an entirely different premise for this particular chapter, but I wanted to examine the whole Johnny, Cloud, and Tifa triangle further and give a deeper basis to Tifa's behaviour, and I also wanted to write about her reckless medical behaviour, and begin to give her some resolution to her issues and to start the healing process, because I didn't want to continue this story in the ranting tone it's embodied so far. Thanks for the reviews on this story that I've gotten so far, because of the nature of this story, I hadn't even expected this many reviews compared to some of my other more just adventure based stories. You guys are great! :]