The Rabbit Hole

This is the way the world ends. Oh wait, Thomas Stearns Eliot, a native of St. Louis, Missouri, I’ll change your famous poem here, just slightly, this one time: This is how a marriage ends. No, one more modification, if you will allow me. This is the way my marriage ends, not with a bang but a whimper. Leo stood before the judge. Her counsel Candice Kane, dressed in a sharp, curve-hugging, burgundy suit, was by her side. Jake hadn’t bothered to attend the final hearing. Leo wasn’t surprised. Being on time for anything was never one of his strengths. She’d been holding her breath since the proceedings started, hoping that the rumor mill was correct this time. The last she heard from Brody, Judy’s husband, was that Jake had found someone else, that as far as he was concerned, Leo was yesterday’s news, put out with yesterday’s trash.

“I’ve reviewed the documentation. Everything was filed correctly. The non-filing spouse has had adequate time since being served to respond and has failed to do so.”

Leo glanced over her shoulder. Part of her feared Jake might burst through the door. On the wooden bench behind her sat her father, Uncle Paul and Jennifer, who had been consistently supportive throughout the process. They looked at her with encouragement.

“By the power vested in me, I hereby declare this case is closed. Leo Rose Lightfoot, your petition for the dissolution of your marriage is granted.”

A small collection of cheers rose behind her, and Leo turned with a smile, pumping her fist in the air. Candice beamed, pushing the pink-framed glasses back on her nose. “It’s over, Leo! Let’s go celebrate with your family.”

****

Ray slid into an empty folding chair, joining the group in progress. He was late. Hope was tied up at the plant, and Gabrielle had to leave for her afternoon shift, so he was left watching his teething, fussing nephew Hiram until the backup sitter, his mother, in this case, could get there. He unzipped his navy jacket and folded the canvas onto his lap.

With a quick dip of his head, Augie acknowledged Ray’s presence and asked, “What do Buzz Aldrin, Terry Bradshaw, and Beyonce have in common?” Ray looked around the circle. Was this a joke-telling session? If so, he was all in. He could use some levity.

“They were smart enough to recognize when they needed help, and they had the strength to seek professional assistance.” Augie paused. “Who’s ever heard of Harold Wobber?” No one responded. “In August of 1937, he was the first to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. He was also a World War I Veteran suffering from what they called shell shock at the time. Veterans of the Armed Forces are thirty to fifty percent more likely to die from suicide than the average citizen. This is what we’re discussing today.”

Oh, holy hell, Ray thought, I sure could have used a joke, but here we go, down the rabbit hole.

“In general, men have been socialized since birth to master their feelings, and if they can’t, they better damn well hide them. In the military, this is further reinforced. The display of any emotion is seen as a form of vulnerability. Now, thrown back into the civilian world, we rely on what has been drilled into us; I can handle the problems myself, and I don’t need any help. We learn to hide things really well from our family, our friends, and even from ourselves. But guess what, this old way of coping is why our suicide rates are so high.”

He darted around the room, handing each participant a small, business-sized card. “Put these in your pockets, your wallets, hang them on your refrigerator, I don’t care where, but keep them accessible. They may save a life.” Augie took a reorienting breath. “All right, men, time for a deep dive into what drives us to that edge, how we can protect and support each other.” He slid back into his waiting chair, making the sphere complete. “We’ll also focus on coping skills, what to do when things go horribly wrong, and learn to problem-solve before things get out of control. You’ve taken a step in the right direction, but being here isn’t enough.”

****

Ray’s hands trembled as he zipped up his jacket against the fierce wind. He was shaken to his core. Something unexpected and unnerving happened during the group meeting. His first instinct was to go to the liquor store, but he couldn't. He’d taken an extra shift at the hospital and was headed there now. Besides, since the wedding, he hadn’t imbibed. He found he didn’t crave or need alcohol like he once had. What he really wanted to do was to share his experience with someone he implicitly trusted, Leo. The meeting was intense. Something poured out of him, a frightening acknowledgment of the night he stood on the edge and had jumped. But now exposed, he didn’t know what to do. How could what he shared be retrieved, and packed away?

She read him in honest and unnerving ways. Leo picked up on things he often couldn’t see himself. She would notice a subtle behavior and then ask gentle, probing questions. She listened intently, and once she understood, she would work with unfaltering tenacity to help pull him through.

He hadn’t spoken to or seen her since the hike. Yet, thoughts of her overwhelmed him. He remembered clearly, a day she refused to back down when she saw his need.

Ray allowed himself to go there.

He sees her wide smile. “I’m taking my break now.” Her melodic voice calms him. Leo slides into the booth across the table, so she is facing him. Every day since he told her, he felt safer with his back to the wall; she saved her break time to spend with him. He wasn’t prepared when she said, “Time to switch spots, Ray.”

“What?” He protested and felt sweat start to bead on his forehead.

Her voice softened. “Just for one minute. I promise you. I have your back, and nothing will happen.”

He reluctantly, hesitantly, changed positions. And while he sat there, unable to see the door, sure that danger was lurking behind him, unable to ascertain what or who was sneaking up for an attack, she placed her hands over his, quietly talked, and reassured him. “The door is opening now. It’s just Mr. and Mrs. Ruggles coming in for their weekly date. They usually order the veggie special. Do you know they have a new great-grandson?”

Her voice became distant and distorted. Sixty interminable seconds. Why am I lightheaded? Maybe it’s low blood sugar.

Leo’s words penetrated the narrowing light. “You’ll hear and feel Judy delivering a pie to the table behind us. It’s only Judy. You’re doing great, Ray. There are only twenty seconds to go.”

The restaurant started to spin. Ray’s thoughts whirled. Maybe the reaction was exhaustion. In the past few days, he hadn't slept more than three consecutive hours without being woken by a nightmare. And just as he felt a darkness tunnel down, Leo was by his side, pulling him out. “Time’s up. Time to switch places again. You did it, Ray!”

Gradually, the amount of time he would sit, unable to see the door, trusting Leo to keep him posted as to who was coming and going lengthened until he could remain seated, without looking back once, for ten straight minutes. During one of these interludes, when the Beef and Pizza Palace fell quiet, with Leo sitting across the table, he found the courage to share what happened to him the day they became battle buddies, how the trigger of the dead animal on the road sent him spiraling into an altered level of consciousness. He also revealed his fear of driving alone and his inability to retrace a route, no matter what he was doing, whether walking, running, or riding in a car.

The way Leo studied him, the way she genuinely cared about him, the way she thoughtfully considered what he said and then organically responded with word or action was uncanny and belied an intimacy Ray had never experienced. He missed her on so many levels.

****

All she wanted to do was tell Ray it was over. She was finally free of Jake. She needed to thank him for all he’d done to help her through the tough patch, for being her unfailing battle buddy. Leo imagined the scene now. If she hadn’t messed things up between them, he’d be celebrating with her and her family. She would have laughed lightly with him, giving him an out, absolving him of his duties now that she was free. And in her mind, he would have deferred. He would have held her, his blue eyes shining. And gently kissing her, he would tell her he couldn’t imagine a life without her and that he loved her.

****

Jennifer knew what Leo was thinking. She was an open book. Her face belied how grateful she was the divorce was over, but also how much she still missed Ray. Upon her return after the wedding and hike, before Joseph drove her back home when Leo reached in her pocket to hand Jennifer back her pearl drop earrings and found one was missing, lost on the Ozark trail; she burst into inconsolable tears, her body wracked with grief. There was no way Jennifer could ease her sorrow, nor would this have been therapeutic. Leo had to process the events on her own. Over time, Leo hesitantly shared some of what happened, and Jennifer listened and offered perspective.

****

Wearing a bright green coat over a sunshine yellow dress, Jennifer’s red cowboy boots peeking through, her elfin ears sporting tiny crystals of rainbow color, she raised an ice cream cone high. “To Leo, whose strength and grace inspire all.”

“To Leo.” Her father dropped a gentle kiss on his daughter’s head, then turned beaming, his gaze full of love and gratitude for his fiancée. Uncle Paul and Candice clicked their chocolate-dipped cones, an ice cream toast. “To Leo,” they said. “To Leo.”

Leo looked around the unlikely band of people gathered around her, all sharing the deliciousness of quiet celebration. Then she thought of her mother. Emily’s absence in Leo’s life was her choice, not because Leo was unlovable. Walking away was, at the time, the only option Emily felt she had. And the intense emotion, the anger, the pain, the abiding sense of loss that Leo carried fell away.

With distilled clarity, Leo realized she was a product of all she’d been given, of the people who committed their days and tirelessly gave their love, always believing in her and holding her up. And she knew she had everything. For the first time in her life, Leo did not question her value or what she had to offer. For those who loved her and truly cared, she was enough. Enough for her family, enough for her close friends, enough for the shelter dogs, enough for Echo, and finally, she could look within and accept she was enough for herself. In this space, she found, for her mother, forgiveness.

****

The Afternoon Delights Ice Cream Parlor windows were sprayed to make them look frosted for the holiday season. As Ray walked by on his way to work, he had the sudden urge to go in and grab a cone or shake, for memory’s sake. He and Leo often went there between classes or after helping at the shelter. Behind the iced glass, as he passed, he could see an iridescence. Yellow, blue, green, and red drifted around the palest of lavender, a celebration of colors.