(It Was Almost) The First Time in Forever
Ch.6
By Ginny
Thankfully we both sleep through the night. I hear Charlie head into the shower a little after 9:00, his usual time. I've been up for two hours, made coffee and started to make some notes to take to the doctor. While I have some specific issues to talk about there's more to it than I can put in to words. He's just not himself and while he has every right to be a little "off" given his current circumstances, that doesn't make it any easier to see my beloved husband suffering, emotionally and physically.
Charlie wanders down about 9:45 as I'm putting a load of laundry in. Unlike Monday morning, he is completely dressed, pants and all. I straighten his bowtie a little and smooth down a stray lock of hair which is sticking up.
He's a little distracted as he eats but I don't dwell on it. I'm just happy he's eating. His choice of coffee over tea is also a good sign that he's feeling better.
At 10:30 Chris arrives to collect him and I send him off with a kiss on the cheek and a reminder that we will be talking sometime today. He gives no protest and for that I am glad.
I put the clothes over to the dryer and quickly shower myself so I can get to my hair appointment on time.
After my appointment I head to my favorite coffee shop for lunch. I read a little, scan my email on my phone and just relax for the first time in what feels like a very long time.
My text alert goes off as I pour myself another cup of tea. I take a deep breath and fish my phone out of my bag. It's from Mac.
-don't panic, he's fine. Wanted me to text you that he ate lunch and to ask you to please stop worrying about him.
I smile to myself and text him back instead of Mac.
-you can text me yourself. Glad you ate. When are we talking?
I don't expect to get an answer quickly so I set the phone down and pick my book back up. Before I get through more than a page the phone vibrates again.
-I think I'm going to come home after News Night. Don't worry, I'm fine, just a little tired. Would also like to actually be awake when we talk. See you a little after 10. Love you.
That's good, I didn't really want to have this conversation at midnight with my half asleep husband.
After lunch I run a few errands, pick up some food for a late night snack as I'm sure the conversation will call for some sustenance. I'm sure he'd be fine with just bourbon, but lots of bourbon on an empty stomach is not going to happen. I've spent too much time kneeling behind him in the bathroom lately.
When I get home I sew for a while, water the plants and read my email. I talk to Katie for a bit. Apparently she and Beau had a nice conversation after I dropped him off last night. She also let me know that Beau had told her about what happened when he and Charlie were playing basketball. I assured her that I would call her tomorrow after the doctor's appointment.
I finish the leftover pizza for dinner and by 8:00 I am completely bored and fidgety. I still have two hours before Charlie gets home. I head for the den and flick on News Night. I fold a load of laundry, dust a little and in general find anything which will hold my attention.
By the time Sloan signs off I am about to jump out of my own skin. I go up to take a shower to try and relax a little. I know if I'm already this wound up that Charlie's wound ten times tighter.
I hear the front door open a few minutes after 10:00. I take a deep breath and head to the foyer to meet Charlie. He comes in the door with a smile and a small bouquet of flowers.
"For you," he says as he kisses my cheek. He kicks the door closed and puts his briefcase on the bench.
"Thanks."
"Did you eat dinner?" I ask as he follows me into the kitchen. I pull a vase out of the cabinet and put the flowers in it.
"I had some kind of salad Sloan left on my desk. Tasted like weeds," he snorts.
I can't help but snort back a little. "You want a snack. Cheese and crackers?" I offer.
"Sounds great."
As I open the fridge and start to pull out the cheese I hear him leave the room and head down the hall, to the bourbon, no doubt. I've learned to pick my battles over the years, fighting about bourbon tonight is nothing worth arguing over. I'm sure there will be plenty to argue about in half hour or so.
"Do you want to go outside?" Charlie asks as he appears back in the kitchen in a minute later. Shirttails are now hanging out, his tie and shoes are missing.
"Sure. Here put these on the plate," I direct as I hand him a box of crackers. "Can you pour me a glass of wine? There's some in the fridge." No sense in letting him drink alone.
We settle down outside. It's beautiful night, warm enough to sit out without a sweater.
"So I assume this conversation is going to involve you making an extensive list of things to talk to Dr. Matthew's about?" he asks without attitude.
"I have a list inside and I can get it if you want," I offer with a smirk.
"I think we'll make do without it for now," he mutters as he reached for his drink. "Go ahead you can start."
"Well, we talked about mentioning anxiety and the possibility of taking something. You've done it in the past. I don't know about you but I'm a fan of you taking something regularly and not something as you need it."
"Well given my, what doctors would call "addictive" personality, that sounds like a better option," he says as he raises his glass in a small salute. "Sleep issues go on the list, I guess."
"Lack of appetite."
"Puking," he adds with a groan.
"Yeah, I didn't want to be that graphic," I tease as I reached for my wine.
Charlie takes a long sip of bourbon and I can tell he's trying to decide what to say next. I have a few things to add, not the least of which is what happened yesterday when he was playing basketball with Beau.
"Depression," he states simply.
His admission surprises me.
"Didn't think I'd say it, did you?" he asks with a wry smile.
"Not really," I admit.
"And now for the big elephant in the room," he mutters as he gets up to pace a little. I let him be for a minute while I go in to grab a bottle of water. Feeling generous, I grab the bottle of bourbon from the den for him.
"Trying to liquor me up?" he teases as I come back out a minute later.
"You don't need any help with that," I remind him. He takes the bottle and pours himself a generous 3 fingers worth.
"So we didn't really talk about what happened in the driveway yesterday," I start carefully as I settle myself down in one of the lounge chairs. I kick my flip flops off and curl up a little. "Let's start this way. Was that the first time anything like that happened?" I ask, pretty sure I already know the answer.
"No," he answers as he sit down at the end of the chair I'm currently occupying. He's facing away from me, clearly not wanting to look at me as he makes his admission. I nudge him a little with my foot to get him to elaborate.
"It's happened a few times in the last, uh, 6 weeks. No pain but my heart races and it just feels odd, can't really explain it. Not pain exactly, but not something that should be happening, I suppose. Dizzy and short of breath once in a while."
Charlie pulls his feet up to sit cross legged on the end of my lounge chair. I push myself to sitting and lean against him, resting my chin on his shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight.
"Everything's just a fucking mess," he whispers as he wraps his hands around my arms.
"I know it seems that way now," I whisper. I want to tell him everything will be okay, but I can't. I don't know that it will be okay, neither of us know that. I scoot back a little, pulling him with me. He settles himself against my chest and takes a deep breath. I know he's trying his best to not get too worked up but I can feel his breathing and heart beat quicken.
"Take a deep breath, sweetie," I coach.
He turns on his side a little and I rest my hand on his chest. He takes a few halting deep breaths.
"Better?" I whisper. He shakes his head against my chest. Tears spring to my eyes as I press a kiss to his forehead.
He starts to shake and I soon realize mine are not the only tears being shed. Lacking the right words to say I settle for rubbing his back and just holding him tight. Neither of us are in any shape to participate in a coherent conversation right now. Half a century's worth of non-verbal communication will have to suffice right now.
Eventually he stops shaking but makes no effort to untangle himself from my embrace. A good ten minutes pass by before he makes any effort to say a word.
"Do we really have to write all that down?" he eventually asks with a little chuckle.
"I think I got it," I whisper back.
"You know what I need?" he asks as he sits up quickly. Judging by the look in his eyes and the fact that he just got very pale, sitting up quickly wasn't the best idea.
"Dizzy?" I guess. He nods as he swings his legs over the side of the lounger and I guide his head down a little. "So what do you need? I ask when I'm sure he's not about to pass out.
"Ice cream."
"Me too," I agree. I help him to his feet. When I'm sure he's steady enough to head inside I let him go while I grab the plates and glasses off the table.
We curl up on the couch in the den with a big bowl of ice cream to share. ACN plays in the background out of habit more than anything else.
By 12:30 the remaining bit of ice cream has long since melted and Charlie is fading fast. He's stretched out on the couch, head in my lap, struggling to keep his eyes open. We should go to bed but we're just too comfortable at the moment. But we do need to leave a little earlier than Charlie normally leaves in the morning so I nudge him a little, help him to his feet and point him in the direction of the stairs.