I return to Escala when Rose is one month old. I need to start getting some normality back, not just for me but for Teddy and Rose as well. Gail is glad I am back, I can tell. The hardest part is sleeping in my own bed. The bed Ana and I shared. My first night in it is very broken. My alarm goes off at five and I groan.
I wake up slowly. For the first time in a month, my dick is awake too. Fucking thing, I think darkly looking down. This isn't a problem I have had to contend with for many weeks and I don't have time to deal with it now. I climb out of bed, heading to my bathroom. I brush my teeth and it's still there.
Fucking hell, I think darkly as I lift the toilet seat. Aiming like this is a nightmare. I don't particularly want to give Gail a massive job to clean up either. I'm sure she'll be even more worried about me if she thinks I can't aim into a toilet any more. I finish up before heading to get dressed. I tuck it carefully into the waistband of my boxers and use jeans to hold it in place. Fucking thing. I'm not ready to deal with this yet. What would I even think about?
Gail is in the kitchen already when I walk through. I know for a fact she can't see it but I feel like a teenager trying to hide it. I sit at the counter as she passes me a cup of coffee. She has that permanent sympathetic look everyone has when they look at me at the moment. I know they all mean well but I just want people to look at me like they used to. Like the prick I am.
"You going to eat something?" She asks me as I sip the coffee.
"No, I have an appointment today. Going to be hard enough without a full stomach," I mutter. She's desperate to ask what appointment I can see. Not because she's nosy. But because she wants it to be that appointment. "I'm seeing Flynn about… this shaking," I sigh. I don't want to say anxiety. It's embarrassing. What do I have to be fucking anxious about? I have everything. Well not my wife now. Perhaps it's a reason to be depressed. Not anxious.
"Well I hope it goes well," she says kindly to me. Urgh, why does everyone need to be so nice?
"Thanks," I nod as I head upstairs to wake my kids. Hope doesn't usually start until 7 so if I'm up, I'll take the full hour alone with them. Of course if they need her in the night she's there but her usual routine is a 7am start.
I walk into Rose's nursery. She's awake and it puts a smile on my face. We've bonded a lot over the last two weeks. She's not smiling yet but I feel like it can't be long. "Oh someone is smelly," I tell her, bending over her crib to get her out.
I take her to the changing table, changing her diaper before scooping her back up. She smells delicious now. I bury my face in her. Her little white onesie is one Ana chose, with grey bunnies stitched on. Her small amount of hair is falling out now, which I've read can happen a lot with babies born with hair. I rest her on my shoulder as I walk to Ted's room. He's not awake yet, slept soundly in his crib.
I kiss Ted's head before taking Rose downstairs to the kitchen area. Gail has already got me a bottle warmed. She doesn't have kids herself so she's always been more than happy to help out with Ted. It seems this extends to Rose. I thank her for the bottle and go to sit on the sofa and feed my little one, watching the news as I do. It's soothing spending time with the kids, my heart isn't racing for once.
Hope brings Ted down at 7. I have burped Rose by now and we are having a cuddle on the sofa. She is awake and tucked in the crook of my arm. "Teddy," I say sitting up as he runs over, climbing in my lap. I kiss his copper hair.
"You make breakfast?" He asks with a grin as I nod, taking him to the kitchen area. I pass Rose to Hope as I place Teddy in his high chair. I pour him a small bowl of Cheerios and slice a handful of grapes as he watches. I don't make much food for the kids but breakfast I can actually do. I fill his sippy cup with some milk and set it out for him, immediately stealing one of his grapes.
"Daddy!" He exclaims in shock, taking one of the sliced grapes himself. I supervise him as he eats and when the clock turns 8 I give him and Rose a kiss.
"I'm going to a meeting but I'll be back soon," I tell them both. Teddy isn't listening as he's now playing with some Duplo on the floor. Rose definitely doesn't understand me yet. I look hopefully for a smile but it's not here yet.
I feel strange leaving them alone at Escala. I know Sawyer and Prescott are both there and they are safe but I haven't not been in the same building as them since Ana's funeral. Of course, it makes me anxious. As I travel down in the elevator with Taylor, he's pretending not to watch me. But he knows from the way I am concentrating on my breaths my heart is racing. He can see my fingers shaking.
I haven't seen Flynn since he attended Ana's funeral. My mom has been trying to push me to an appointment but I haven't felt like leaving the house. My compromise for being allowed back to Escala was that I would book an appointment with Flynn. I had booked one for the following week. My mom changed it. And she thinks I over interfere in things? Ha.
Flynn greets me by shaking my hand as we head into his office. I take my usual seat in the chair by his desk and look at him, waiting for him to talk.
"It's good to see you, Christian," he says as I nod a little.
"Likewise, John," I mutter, more at the floor. I don't want to talk today. I'm going to have to go through all of it.
"It's been a while," he says slowly. "Why don't you tell me a little bit about what's going on."
I recount the sorry tale of the last four weeks as best I can, stopping on more than one occasion as I get too choked up to continue, He regards me with sympathy. I'm sick of it. I don't want it. I just want people to stop caring so much. We're 90 minutes into a one hour session by the time I have finished. My voice is hoarse. My eyes are red rimmed.
"This has been a huge adjustment for you over the past few weeks. You've done remarkably well," he says as I finish telling him about moving back to Escala. I bite my lip, waiting for him to say something further, to give me some advice on how to fix this aching pain. "You know, Christian. This isn't going to go overnight."
"Yep," I say defeatedly, looking at my shoes. I've been seeing Flynn for 15 years. None of my problems seem to go over night. "My mom and Taylor have been pressuring me to talk to you about something else. Ana too… when she was here," I stumble again on the last part, grabbing another tissue as more tears flow down my face.
"Okay," Flynn nods as he makes a note, clearly already planning how he is going to start breaking this down with me in future sessions.
"Well I keep getting these heart palpitations. Like everyday. And then I can't breathe. My mom and.. Ana.. they say I'm having panic attacks," I mumble.
"How long has this been going on?" He asks me, raising an eyebrow.
"About two years?" I suggest slowly.
"And you've never thought you should mention it?" He seems surprised and I shrug.
"I guess I thought you were here for… feelings and shit… my mum thinks you can maybe prescribe something," I say slowly. "If you think I should."
Flynn thinks about it for a few minutes then picks up a copy of the DSM V, checking something as I wait with baited breath. Even now my leg is a little shaky.
"I'm going to suggest we try starting you on a drug called Celexa. It's citalopram, which is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, better known as an SSRI. Are you familiar with it?" He asks me.
"A bit. I've heard of SSRIs," I shrug a little. I've been given various meds over the years. Not by Flynn. Just my general doctor.
"Well it's an antidepressant. Which I think would be a good idea anyway," he says slowly as I shrug. "But dosed correctly, it can also work well with anxiety. I'm going to suggest we try 20mg to begin with, to allow your body to get used to it."
"Okay," I mutter again. "Are there side effects?"
"At this dose, I would say minimal," he looks at me. "It takes about four weeks for the antidepressant effect to work. Some people report nausea during this time. Some people feel a bit tired during this time, experience sexual problems and shakiness. In some unusual cases, there can be an increased risk of suicidal ideation," he pauses. Well that's just what I need, I think darkly. "But that tends to be in younger people."
"Okay," I nod again, already looking forward to the side effects.
"Then I suggest we try and use propranolol to deal with the physiological effects. Your heart racing, the shaking," he continues as I chew my lip. "Propranolol can be used two ways."
"Right," I tap my fingers on his desk. Anxiously I assume.
"We can either look at taking it all the time or just before an anxiety inducing situation. When you have these episodes, are there particular triggers?" He asks.
"Just worrying about my family. About losing…" I don't need to finish, he knows.
"Okay, we'll try it all the time for now. Let's start at 40mg once a day," he says writing some notes. 'This one you must take in the morning or it could effect your sleep."
"Okay," I say again. There's little to say. I hate the thought of being controlled by medication, but right now my racing heart rate is controlling me and I really need to get on top of that. I stand.
"I'll get you a prescription made up," he picks up his diary. "And I want to see you here again next week. We need a proper conversation about this anxiety," he adds, making me choose a slot and putting it in. I sigh and shake his hand, heading out to the car where Taylor is waiting.
Taylor is clearly itching to ask me whether or not I spoke about the anxiety. I'm not sure if it's his concern or Gail's. But he doesn't. He'll know later anyway when Flynn emails me the prescription and I have to go out to fulfil it. I chew on my thumb as he looks over. He's driving me back home, not even asked about the office. Probably for the best, I'm not ready for that yet.
I spend much of the afternoon looking through my emails sat on the sofa. Hope brings the kids home around 4 and I close my laptop. Teddy runs over for a cuddle and I squeeze him tightly. "Did you have a good day?" I ask him.
"We played," he grins at me as I nod.
"We went to the jungle gym, didn't we Ted?" Hope says as I reach to take Rose from her, holding my little girl close and smelling her head. She is delicious.
"Yeah. I fell," he giggles. Since it's soft play he is clearly fine but it makes my heart rate spike. This is ridiculous. Flynn emailed the prescription two hours ago, I need to go and get the meds.
"You okay?" I ask him. I'm assuming since he's laughing about it he's perfectly fine.
"Yeah!" He says with a grin as I nod.
"Take the rest of the night off, I've got these babies," I tell Hope who gives me a smile before heading to get her things. I assume she's going to go meet her friends or boyfriend. I don't ask. I'm close with Taylor and Gail. I get on with Hope but on a formal, colleague only basis. She certainly won't be telling me she thinks I have anxiety.
I head to the kitchen to make Rose up a bottle, settling Teddy in his high chair. I like to be able to keep tabs on them at all times. I have Rose in the crook of my arm as I mix the formula. Teddy was breastfed until nearly two years old. I know Ana would be devastated she couldn't do this for Rose. I shake the thought, not wanting anymore tears tonight.
"You want a snack, Ted?" I ask. I can hear the lump in my throat but he won't be able to tell. He's still coping so well with the loss of his mom. He does ask about her a lot, but he's not cried a whole bunch. I don't really think he still comprehends the enormity of the situation, that's she's never coming back. He's two years old. He understands as much as he can.
"Yeah!" He's so enthusiastic. I leave the formula to warm and set Rose in her bouncy chair. I'm impressed I got the bottle ready one handed but I think I'm going to struggle to slice carrots with one hand. I make Teddy a small plate of carrot sticks, placing it on his tray.
"They're wonky!" He tells me as I give him a small smile, testing the bottle on my wrist like my mom showed me to. I didn't worry about this first time around. Ana breastfed and If she wasn't around, Hope used a bottle of breastmilk warmed up.
"Sorry," I say slowly as I pick Rose up to feed.
"Mommy did good sticks!" He tells me as I bite my lip, my eyes starting to prickle again. This is fucking ridiculous. I'm a 31 year old man who never cried until recently. I need to start this medication fast. What if it doesn't fix me though? I can't go back to work like this.
"I'm sorry, Teddy. I'll try harder next time," I say quietly.
"I want mommy!" He starts to cry and I chew on my own lip. My daughter is feeding, my son screaming and crying in his high chair. I am immediately regretting sending Hope home. I can't pick him with the bottle in my hand.
"I know, Teddy. I know," I say soothingly as he continues to cry, his little face all red. My heart decides this is a great time to start racing again. I feel sick almost at once. My breathing is picking up. Fucking hell. Teddy's screaming is continuing. "Gail!" I yell, gasping as I slide down against the counter, tears on my own face as I try and balance my one month old daughter.
She appears in seconds and assesses the situation. She scoops Teddy up and yells for her husband. Oh good, Taylor is coming. Like this isn't embarrassing enough. He appears in his suit, taking Rose from me. I pull my knees to my chest, my breathing coming so fast. I have no oxygen. I'm going to die.
Taylor must have set Rose down as he's crouched in front of me. "Breathe, Christian, breathe," he says slowly. He's never called me Christian in all the time he's worked for me. It doesn't even register. I'm too busy gasping for my last breath. "Slower," he says in his usual stoic voice.
I can't hear Teddy any more, I'm breathing hard through my nose. I feel like I have just run a race. I'm trying to slow my breaths, gasping in more and more air. "Listen," Taylor says to me firmly. He's holding my shoulders to try and get me to look up. "Breathe in. And out." He paces my breaths for what feels like hours although is probably only a couple of minutes.
"I'm fine," I mumble when I stop feeling like I might actually die. Instead I'm just mortified. My face is scarlet from humiliation. I'm trying to dry the tears on my arms before I look up. Why the hell do I have to be like this? So fucking pathetic. "I'm sorry," I add.
"You have nothing to apologise for," Taylor says firmly as he stands. He offers me his hand to help me up.
"I'm really sorry," I add again.
"Stop saying sorry," he tells me firmly as I give him a small nod. Gail has somehow miraculously calmed Teddy, who is banging a plastic cup on the kitchen floor, apparently now joyously. She is sat next to him on the floor, feeding Rose the rest of her bottle.
"Go take some time, I've got this," she tells me gently as I chew my lip.
"You're not a nanny," I say slowly.
"Do you trust me with your children?" She asks me gently as I nod.
"Yes, of course I do," I say firmly as she gives me a smile.
"Then go take a few minutes," I nod slightly. The shame and failure are all encompassing. As I pass the wine rack on the way to my room I grab a bottle. I'm not sure if they see. I fucking hope not.
I lay on my bed, drinking directly from a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. I check my phone. The email from Flynn with the prescription is there. I'm not going tonight. I'm not asking Taylor to either. I'm so angry with myself. I can't even take care of my children properly. Ana would be so disappointed in me.
I continue to get drunk, drinking 3 bottles into the night. I'm unsurprised when I can't get up the next morning. I continue this pattern for days. I drink the moment I get up each day. But I'm not having panic attacks. It's staving off the anxiety. The more I drink, the less anxious I feel. My mom arrives on Saturday and I'm wasted when she gets there at 10am.
"Hi mom," I give her a cheerful smile as she walks in. I can't tell in my drunk state but I must reek of booze. She looks surprised when she sees me. She's a fuzzy outline. I think her brunette hair is up but it might not be.
"Christian? Are you drunk?" She asks me as I grin at her. It's nice to smile.
"No, mommy, of course not," I giggle. She stares at me as I sway a little in front of her. I'm so calm. Not a hint of anxiety.
"Christian, where are the children?" She asks me more sharply. I grin again.
"Gail will. No. I don't know. What day is it?" I slur looking at my watch. "It's 10.10 mom. That's the day." I answer my own question wrong. Totally out of it.
"Christian, sit down please," she says firmly. I stagger to my sofa, laying down and giggling again. I must fall asleep almost right away as I don't remember her leaving. I establish at a later date she found my children, who Gail has stayed over on the weekend with. I also find out that Taylor called my mom, but it doesn't sink in until later Saturday afternoon. I'm more sober by this point and I stalk to his office.
I don't knock. "Taylor!" I say abruptly as he looks up from some papers he was going over.
"Yes, Mr Grey?" He asks. I'm not swaying. I'm sober and really angry. I didn't want my mom to see me how she did this morning. It's bad enough my staff have thought I'm failing the last few days. I don't need my mom to know too.
"You had no business calling my mom. You work for me, you get that? It's not your place to tell my family what I'm doing. Got it?" I ask him aggressively. Being hung over, feeling betrayed and also mountains of guilt is not helping my attitude.
"Yes, sir," he fixes me dead in the face and it makes me feel anxious. What the hell? I turn my back, storming from the room. My heart is thumping hard in my chest again. Maybe it's just anger? It's nothing alcohol won't fix.
In this moment, I don't care what people think. I open a bottle of bourbon and take a huge gulp. It burns my throat and I gasp. I walk from the kitchen, to my bedroom. Taylor follows my orders not to tell my mother. As the days pass I see less of anyone and more of the inside of the bourbon bottle. By one week later, I know my mom is coming back and I need to act sober.
I'm buoyed only by drink as I head to my bathroom. I met the dealer in an alley by Escala. Taylor isn't stupid and I know he will have followed me. I tip a line onto the toilet lid, lining it up with a credit card like I used to see my birth mom do. And snort it in one. I can act sober for my family now.