It Happened to Us

by François Houle

  “Does it really work?” He couldn’t hide the skepticism not just from his voice, but from the disbelief in his eyes.

  “Yes, it really does.” Dr. Gilmour glanced at her watch. “I think today we’ve established a foundation to build on. Would you agree?”

  “I guess.”

  Dr. Gilmour stood. “We’ve made progress. It may not feel that way, but we did.”

  Mathieu struggled to get out of the chair.

  “Will you be staying with your grandfather?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it. Why?”

  “It might be better if you weren’t alone for the time being.”

  There were still things to clean up at his grandfather’s, the yard needed some work, and the garage was full of tools that could be sold. “I’m sure he won’t mind the company.”

  “Good. Here’s my card with my home number, just in case you need to talk this weekend. Otherwise I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  Mathieu left the office and closed the door quietly, afraid to destroy the fragile foundation that Dr. Gilmour was so confident they’d established. To him it felt as flimsy as a wooden box put together with hammer and nails instead of a dovetail joint.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Sept 1, 2012

  4:03 p.m.

  Mathieu put the last box down in a corner of the apartment, looked around, and turned to his grandfather. “A bit small compared to the house, but it’s probably big enough.”

  “There’s everything I need here, a large dining room, a living room to meet people, a nurse station and a chapel. They even have an exercise room and spa. I’ll be fine,” Grandpa said with a grin that wouldn’t quit. He went to the fridge that he’d filled on an earlier trip with food he’d had at the house, and grabbed two beers. “Your Grandma and I had a wonderful life in that house, but it was just a house. Had some good times and some bad times.” He took a sip of beer. “You know, I think it was the hard times that brought us closer.”

  Mathieu drank his beer. “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “Life isn’t a fairy tale,” Grandpa said. “Happy endings aren’t real. Life is tough. But when you’re with that special someone, the journey is actually pretty darn good.”

  “I made so many mistakes.”

  “There’s no shame in admitting you were wrong,” Grandpa said. “I’ve been wrong plenty and apologized to your grandmother plenty more. We make mistakes. It’s part of life. Show me a man who doesn’t make mistakes and I’ll show you a dead man. You don’t look like a dead man to me.”

  Mathieu put his empty bottle on the kitchen counter and went to hook up the television and digital box.

  “I appreciate you helping me move,” Grandpa said. “And hooking those up for me. My old eyes don’t see so good up close. I think I need stronger reading glasses.”

  Mathieu finished with the TV set and went to stand by his grandfather.

  “Give her a call. Go see her.”

  “I don’t have anything new to offer.”

  “So get something new,” Grandpa said. “Listen, you helped me pack and get rid of stuff. It was hard to let go of the things that reminded me of your grandmother. It felt a little bit like I was cheating on her, letting her down.”

  Mathieu understood that all too well.

  “But that was just my silly old man’s way of thinking.” He took another sip of beer. “I know she’s up there in heaven looking after me and telling me to stop being so foolish and to just get rid of what I can’t use. There’s no point in hanging on to those things. It’s my memories that matter. No one can take my memories away, and I can take them wherever I go.”

  “What’s that got to do with me getting something new?”

  “Your grandmother is gone and I had to get rid of her things because that’s all they were. Lori-Anne got rid of Nadia’s things. You still have her memories in your heart, where it counts.”

  At his lowest point, Mathieu had wanted to end his life. But now, a month into therapy and on medication, his life had settled down, his emotions weren’t suffocating him. He didn’t need to look at pictures of Nadia for hours and he’d found his woodworking passion again, the dresser he was making for little Elissa Kirkpatrick coming along nicely. He looked forward to seeing her face when she and her parents came to pick it up.

  He’d been thinking about Lori-Anne a lot too. He hadn’t seen her since his grandmother’s funeral, and hadn’t spoken to her since the night he asked for a divorce. He had no idea how she was, what she was doing, if she thought of him. The fact that he hadn’t seen a lawyer yet told him he really didn’t want to end his marriage, but that didn’t mean Lori-Anne wanted to stay married to him. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. What was going to happen between them, he had no idea, but each session with Dr. Gilmour diminished his anger toward Lori-Anne and it was just a matter of time before it disappeared.

  “Your wife didn’t do anything wrong,” Grandpa said, reading his thoughts. “She didn’t do anything that requires a divorce.”

  “I know that now. I didn’t before, when it all went bad. I was such an idiot.”

  Grandpa finished his beer. “You really couldn’t help it. Lori-Anne’s a smart lady and she knows you weren’t yourself. Why do you think she tried so hard to get you to see a doctor? Maybe being apart was a good thing for both of you. It’s what you do going forward that matters.”

  “But why would she want me after what I did?”

  “You’re a good man,” Grandpa said. “We raised you to be loving, compassionate, strong. She saw those qualities in you.”

  “Not lately.”

  “No. Not lately. But I’m starting to see a different grandson than I did a few weeks ago, the Mathieu we all know.”

  “What if she’s moved on?”

  “Can’t pretend to know how this has affected her, but I think I know her fairly well and I’m sure she hasn’t given up on you yet.” Grandpa looked like a man deep in thought. “You know what makes us men?”

  Mathieu shook his head.

  “It’s not our physical strength,” Grandpa said, putting his right hand over his chest. “It’s the strength of our heart.”

  Mathieu shoved his hands in his pockets and found a spot on the far wall to focus on. He’d messed up the best thing that had ever happened to him. Without Lori-Anne, there wouldn’t have been a Nadia. Just because he lost his daughter didn’t mean he had to lose his wife.

  He just needed a little more time, to make sure he was good enough for her, no, not just good enough, but completely devoted to her like he once was.

  Because that’s what you did when you loved that special someone.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sept 22, 2012

  11:30 a.m.

  The first full day of fall was a blast of late summer, the temperature a hot 25C and a humidex of 33C. The fan in the garage did little to make the air cooler and Mathieu’s t-shirt clung to him like a second skin. He was cleaning up while waiting for the Kirkpatricks to arrive, hoping they’ll be happy with the dresser, which he thought was one of his best.

  He’d upped the quality and the care he put into his work for this one as it had become special to him.

  Right on time the Kirkpatricks arrived and Mathieu watched as the minivan backed up. Little Elissa came running toward him, her pigtails bouncing off her shoulders and a smile as big as the sun on her face. She stopped in front of him and looked up. “Is my dresser ready?”

  Mathieu crouched to remove the child-adult barrier between them and returned a smile that was just as big as hers. “It’s right behind me. Want to have a closer look?”

  She jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “It’s sooooo preeettyyyy.”

  Little Elissa’s innocent wonder made him look at the dresser differently, not from the point-of-view of its maker who could still find flaws but instead from the eyes of a three-year-old. And it was pretty.

 
“I’m glad you like it.”

  Elissa took Mathieu’s hand. “I love it.”

  It only lasted a moment, and then she let go of his hand and started opening the drawers one by one, but that innocent gesture, that simple touch, was so powerful, so magical, that it reminded Mathieu of the precious moments he’d shared with Nadia long ago, and as he watched little Elissa and how happy she was, he knew that she had come into his life for a reason. Warmth spread through him, and a smile, a real genuine smile, finally found his lips.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Amie said. “It’ll look so nice beside her bed, which by the way, she loves.”

  “Thank you. It makes me happy that she loves it.”

  They watched Elissa until she’d opened the last drawer and turned their way.

  “Come here, honey,” Amie said, “so Daddy and Mr. Delacroix can load the dresser into the van.”

  “You’re not going to bring it to our house like last time?” Elissa said.

  “It’ll fit in the van,” Brandon said. “Mr. Delacroix has work to do.”

  “Oh,” Elissa said. “I wanted him to see how it looks in my room.”

  “We’ll send him a picture on the computer,” Amie said. “If that’s okay?”

  “Can we?” Elissa said.

  “Absolutely. My email is on the invoice. I’ll look forward to seeing it. I’m sure it’ll look just beautiful.”

  “Yippee!”

  Mathieu watched them drive off a few minutes later, thankful he’d taken that order after all. Little Elissa Kirkpatrick, blond pigtails and blue eyes and a smile that was so pure and real it had made him believe that happiness was something not just possible again, but within his grasp.

  The smile remained on his face for quite some time.

  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.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nov 6, 2012

  10:21 a.m.

  Lori-Anne came out of Dr. Galloway’s office and trudged to her car, her mind a puddle of panic and bewilderment. The wind bit at her face and neck so she drew her collar up. Her hands ached from the cold and when she pulled her keys out of her purse, they slipped through her fingers and landed at her feet. She looked at them on the ground, like she had no idea how they’d gotten there and didn’t have a clue how she’d get them back.

  The news had deadened her senses and she couldn’t move. She saw people walk around her like there was something wrong with her and they weren’t quite sure if it was safe to approach, so they didn’t. One little girl asked her mother if the lady was all right and the mother just told her to mind her business and keep walking.

  How could this be happening? After everything she’d been through this year, how could this be real? It had to be a mistake. It just had to.

  Then something in her brain kicked in, and she bent down and snatched her keys. Her hand shook so badly it took three tries to unlock the car. Once inside, she just sat in the driver’s seat and stared out the windshield.

  Why her? Why now? Why?

  She’d felt soreness and some swelling in her left breast a few weeks ago while showering. She’d Googled how to self-examine for breast cancer and gotten several hits. She’d followed the five steps outlined at BreastCancer.org. The first time, she’d refused to believe it. She’d waited a week but it hadn’t gone away. So she’d made an appointment with her family doctor who had tried to tell her not to jump to conclusions, that the lump could be benign. Her doctor had sent Lori-Anne to see Dr. Galloway, an oncologist, who had performed a biopsy and scheduled a mammogram.