TWENTY-FIVE

Nov 5, 2012

2:56 p.m.

Mathieu pushed the door open to room 205 like he’d been coming here habitually for years instead of just three months, said hello to Jessie like they were old friends, and grabbed a seat. He was humming a song he’d been hearing on the radio, “Lost in the Echo.” The lyrics seemed to summarize the last six months of his life, but they also penetrated that hollow space around his heart and gave him hope. And since little Elissa Kirkpatrick had taken his hand, he was learning to let things go. On that day, he had realized how lucky he was, and today, finally, the destination he’d be working so hard to reach had arrived. Not that it was his last day of therapy, far from it, but today he’d decided that it was time to start his life again.

It once seemed as if he’d never get to this goal, especially that day he called his grandfather. He didn’t want to think what he would have done if he’d had absolutely no one. And now three months later he felt good, slept well, had gained back eight pounds, and best of all he really enjoyed his work again.

He also didn’t agonize over Nadia anymore. He’d had two pictures printed and framed. One he kept in his office and the other on his night table. He’d also finished what Lori-Anne had started, packing the rest of Nadia’s room. He wasn’t sure what to do with her books and CDs, maybe ask Caitlin if she wanted them, but he hadn’t gotten to it yet.

Mathieu heard a noise and turned.

A couple, maybe a few years younger than he, came out of an office, put on their jackets, and left without looking at him. He remembered how embarrassed and ashamed he’d felt coming here too, but now he looked forward to meeting with Dr. Gilmour and taking another step forward.

“Mathieu, come on in.”

He followed Dr. Gilmour to her office. He sank into the plush leather chair and wondered, not for the first time, if she had chosen those couches purposely to make her clients feel small, or maybe the comfort of the chair around him was supposed to make him feel safe.

“So,” Dr. Gilmour said as she faced him. “How was your weekend?”

“It was good,” Mathieu said.

“Last week you’d mentioned you hadn’t had any thoughts of suicide for a while. You mentioned September 22 as a real turning point.”

“That’s the day that little girl, Elissa, changed my life.”

“She reminded you of Nadia.”

“She did. She was so sweet and happy. They sent me a picture of her sitting on the bed I made for her with the dresser beside it. In her hands, she held a piece of paper with very coarse letters that spelled out thank you. It actually brought tears to my eyes, but in a good way. Kids at that age are so wonderful,” he said.

“But you understand your daughter wasn’t three anymore, the memories you’d been holding on to weren’t recent.”

“Nadia was becoming a young lady. And we were having growing pains. At least, I was. I’ve come to accept that. When she died, I knew I’d never get her back, that I’d never get the chance to make things better between us. I just wanted to remember when I was her hero.”

“It’s understandable, to a point. But then it became all consuming, and affected your relationship with Lori-Anne.”

“I needed to blame someone.”

“Do you still blame her?”

He shook his head. “It was an accident.”

“Good. Are you still going to church with your grandfather?”

“Yeah, at first I went because I felt obligated to go with my grandfather now that he’s alone. But you know, I have to admit that at night, I often say a little prayer to my family. Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“Sounds like going to mass with your grandfather has had some profound influence on you.”

“It hasn’t been all bad.” He sat a bit straighter. “Some things I still have a hard time believing, and maybe I never will, but I feel lighter when I go, like some burden is taken away. Right now, I’ll take that as a good thing.”

“You’re certainly making progress,” she said. “And I think you’re on the road to recovery.”

“But?”

“It’s not unusual to have small relapses. Please keep that in mind,” she said. “But it looks like a combination of medication, counselling, and possibly a sprinkle of faith is not a bad recipe.”

Mathieu nodded. “It sure seems that way. I have to be honest with you. At first, I really didn’t believe you’d be able to help. I didn’t think anything would. I was powerless. I think that describes how I felt. Maybe people I’ve lost really are looking after me.”

Dr. Gilmour waited.

“Not a bad thing if they are. So now what?”

“I’d like to keep the sessions to once a week for a while longer, and then maybe go to every other week,” Dr. Gilmour said. “We can see how that goes. Now, what about Lori-Anne? Are you ready?”

“I miss her. I really do. Maybe she’ll tell me to drop dead and not bother her again, but I have to try. I need to apologize and tell her how truly sorry I am, if nothing else.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he said and rubbed his thighs. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in four months. Should I ask her out on a date? That just feels so awkward. We have things to sort out before that even has a chance. Maybe just coffee or something.”

“You’ll need to figure that out,” Dr. Gilmour said. “Remember that she’s been through a lot also and might not be at the stage you’re at now. She might not be ready to reconcile.”

“That’s my biggest fear.”

“I don’t think you should fear it, but you should be conscious of it. Even though you’ve been married twenty years, take it slow. It’s like starting over.”

“All because I was an ass.”

“You were deeply affected by Nadia’s death. You were severely depressed. It’s a serious chemical imbalance that can ruin lives.”

“I just wished I could have stopped myself.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s a nasty disease. But it can be treated, as you now know,” Dr. Gilmour said. “You did the right thing in the end and your life is getting better. That’s what’s important.”

“I really owe my grandfather a lot,” Mathieu said. “He was there for me and didn’t give up.”

“Having someone like that is a wonderful thing.” Dr. Gilmour got up and led him out. “I’ll see you next Monday.”

Mathieu stepped out into the late autumn afternoon, the distant warmth of the sun a gentle caress on his face. There were so many beautiful yet simple things in life, and he felt blessed to be able to enjoy them. He remembered Dr. Gilmour telling him early on how she was going to give him the tools he needed to get better, and he’d wanted to laugh. He wasn’t laughing now.

Dr. Gilmour had delivered on her promise.

And now he had hope.

Hope for a new beginning.

Hope that Lori-Anne will forgive him.

Hope that they’ll find love again.