by Tom Bierdz
When I couldn’t commit and love her unconditionally, she turned on me. My rejection reinforced her feelings of inadequacy and unlovability. Had she outlived me, chances are she would have found another psychiatrist to repeat the pattern, the repetition compulsion.
Two months later on an unseasonably warm, cloudless, early summer day I hosted a birthday party for Gregory in Hanna’s back yard. In addition to Hanna, others in attendance were Bobby and his girlfriend, Liza, Carrie and Colby, Carlos, his wife, Eva, and their son, Junior. Gregory invited Emily and his roommate, Justin.
Bobby delighted everyone with his scrumptious ribs. Liza was helping him clean the grill.
Gregory had been around snapping everyone’s picture. Now he, Emily, and Justin rambled off into the woods, Junior trailing, to photograph wildlife.
I brought out another pitcher of margaritas, topped off the guest’s glasses.
“You seem to walking normally,” Carrie observed. Seated on a picnic bench, she leaned back into Colby open arms.
“Carrie said you fractured it again at Megan’s,” Colby said.
“Thankfully it was only a hairline fracture. All the hardware in my leg kept it from being worse, kept me from additional surgery. I’m pretty much healed now, but I won’t be on the tennis courts for some time.”
Eva put her hand over her glass when I tried to pour.
“Don’t pass me by,” Carlos said, pushing his empty glass closer. “I got to hand it to you, Doc, Greg has come a long way since you got involved. I wish all the kids were like him.”
“A big part of the credit goes to that Family Service social worker who has been seeing his mother. She just got her GED and soon will be getting some IT training. She’s blossoming with that one on one contact.”
“She no bother Gregory. He’s got enough to worry about.”
“Like school and girlfriends. Greg tells me his mother hasn’t been as demanding when they visit.”
“I hear that, too.”
We chatted for a while about Greg and the progress he had made. The others who hadn’t known him before, chirped in on how nice and polite he was.
“Oh, oh, look who’s coming,” I said, watching Detective Rollins enter the backyard, a brown bag in his arm.
“The devil himself,” Carrie said.
Boldly grinning, Rollins made the trek across the yard, nodded to the others, and sat next to me.
He took the bottle of Abelour out of the bag and handed me the scotch.
“He’s not been drinking scotch,” Carrie said.
“Ever since that last drink at Megan’s, just the smell makes my stomach rock and roll.”
“That’ll change,” Rollins said. “All established scotch drinkers eventually return.” He winked at Carrie, smiled mischievously. “I want to apologize for misjudging you and getting on your case.”
I smiled. It was a nice gesture, but I knew better. Rollins had something up his sleeve. “And?”
“And I’ve got this baffling case. It needs a shrink’s take on it.” Everyone laughed.
“Sure, but later.” I stood and yelled, “Bobby give this hungry man some food and drink.”
“Coming right up.”
Hanna began to clear off the table.
“Here, let me help you with those.” I layered several plates and followed Hanna into the house. Even though Bobby cooked outside, the scent of lemon, onions, and garlic hung heavy, a good smell, reminiscent of when Hanna cooked for me. I placed the dishes by the sink. “Thanks for letting me use your house.”
“I still think of it as our house.” She scraped off the plates, arranged them in the dishwasher. Hanna got the house in the divorce. Still, it was a kind thing to say. She gazed out the window, watching Greg who had returned to the yard with Emily and the other boys.
“Nice having a boy around. He’s like Kevin, isn’t he?”
“Only in the sense they’re both confused young men. Actually, he is very different from Kevin. I don’t think we could deal with another Kevin.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Kevin would always be a part of us. Time eased the pain, but he still invaded our thoughts especially on anniversaries. And, it was surprising how many anniversaries there were–his birthday, the day he died, the major holidays, the baseball season, and whenever somebody, or something sparked a memory of the past. And there were the times he’d pop in my head when I’d least expect it, watching a movie or TV, in therapy with a patient, etcetera, etcetera.
I grabbed a tray, took it outside to collect the unused glasses, came back and gave them toHanna.
“Greg’s very fond of you, you know.”
“I know.”
“Hank and I broke up,” she said, rinsing plates, her back facing me. She turned the water off, spun around to look at me. “Actually he broke up with me. He said I wasn’t doing him any favors by staying in the relationship when my heart wasn’t in it. He was right. He deserved more. I hung in there thinking it would help me get over you. It hasn’t.”
I sucked in a deep breath, slowly let it out. “I’ve been so beat up mentally and physically I have so very little to give at this time. I can barely manage my patients.”
“Your well ran dry. It needs to be replenished. I can do that for you.”
I hugged her, stayed locked in that warm embrace for a good, long time. “You always were so generous and nourishing. As appealing as that sounds, I know one way relationships don’t work. I’d need to be coming from a position of strength. I’m not there yet.”
A tear slid down her face. “You always have to be so damn analytical.”
“I was just being honest. I don’t think you’d want me any other way.”
She dried her eyes, finished loading the dishwasher. “I don’t mean to be so clingy.”
“You weren’t.”
“It’s just that I enjoyed being a couple with you today.”
“I enjoyed it, too, Hanna. And, I’d like to have more couple days.”
I put my arm around her as we stood side to side, looked out the window, and appreciatively watched our friends enjoy themselves.
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About the Author
Tom Bierdz makes his online home at:
www.tombierdz.com.
You can connect with him on Facebook at:
www.facebook.com/authortombierdz
and you should send him an email at:
[email protected] if the mood strikes you.
Dedication
For my brother, Bob, who has always been there for me.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to my readers, Barbara Colburn and Julia Mitchell, for their help in making the book better than it was.
Also by Tom Bierdz
Summer with Michael When Michael, a schizophrenic, is kicked out of a halfway house for sexually acting out, his estranged, older brother, Chris, is forced to take him. They go to Florida for the summer in a senior mobile-home park. Well-i
ntentioned but misguided, Chris tries to cure his brother. For a time Michael charms the old folks with his Michael Jackson style dancing. Then pandemonium sets in. Sometimes funny, sometimes wrenching, the brothers try to resolve the past that brought them to where they are. Does sibling rivalry or brotherly love win out?
If you liked Rain Man, Silver Lining Playbook, and Manchester by the Sea, you’ll love Summer with Michael. Download your copy from Amazon now!
