"Why didn't you come to me when things started feeling so badly?" He asks while not letting me go, which just makes me cry harder. "Tell me," he pushes.
"I didn't want to bother you, and I didn't know what was happening. And I was okay and then not okay so quickly, I didn't know what to do. But I tried to fix me, Mack."
"Without my or Dr. Phillips’ help? Without talking to anyone?" Nodding against his shoulder I don't know what else to say. "When has that ever worked for you?" He asks seriously pulling away to look at my face.
"Um, it hasn't," I exhale as reality surfaces. I still feel like shit, but it helps knowing why I feel like shit this time. I'm depressed, which is just about the best news ever, I giggle.
"Feeling better?" He grins.
"No. But I'm glad I at least know why I feel so badly. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," he smiles rising from my bed to sit back in the chair beside me.
Lying back down, I lean on my side so the pillow covers my ugly face and I wait for Mack to tell me what I do next.
"What do you want to do now, Suzanne?" Oh, not what I had in mind. I have no idea what I do next.
"Ah, I don't know," I admit.
"Okay. How about we start with getting you ready to leave here. I know you hate the confinement, and I know you'll be much better at home when you’re healing. So why don't we work on getting you out of the depression first before we tackle all the reasons why you feel depressed. Sound good?" Not really. Crying out suddenly I realize what I've done and I don't know how to fix it.
"What is it?" He asks quietly leaning forward again.
"Z's gone, Mack. He left me!" I scream as the agony rips through me. "He left- me," I sob between breaths.
"Suzanne. Look at me," Mack demands and I look immediately. "Listen to me for a minute. Okay?" He continues when I nod. "You need to work on you right now. And I know that's hard, and I know you want to crawl back into the darkness with Z gone, but you have to work on you right now. Once you're better you can work on the Z issue. But they aren't the same issue right now, and your mental health and life is the important issue right now."
"But-"
"Just think for a second. If you work on Z but you're still depressed the cycle will continue until you two break away from each other completely. Do you see what I'm saying? It's like this- you have to be not depressed to work on your relationship. Otherwise, it's just wasted effort that will fail as soon as the depression takes you over again. Right?"
Nodding, I kind of see what he's saying, but I still want Z back. I didn't mean for Z to leave me and I didn't mean to leave him.
"Suzanne. Focus. You have to feel better to get Z back. Okay?"
"Okay," I exhale because deep down I know he's right. I just don't like it. I want Z back with me now. But I do know Mack's right. If I'm not better, I can't make Z feel better about me. Shit!
"Wow. This sucks," I admit as the world’s biggest understatement and even as he tries Mack can't hold in the laughter, which naturally makes me huff a laugh in return.
"Yes, it does. But it's going to get better, Suzanne. I promise," Mack smile-laughs squeezing my hand again.
"Will you help me?"
"Of course I will."
"No. Like will you help me? Like be my doctor again? Because I don't think Phillips is helping me much," I laugh a little at the obvious.
"No shit," Mack grins as we both laugh harder.
"Yes, I'll take you on again officially. But just like before Suzanne, no holds barred. I'm calling you out, and you are going to have to work really hard for me. Understood?" When Mack asks seriously I agree.
"Yes. Um, please help me, Mack? You're the only one who seems to get through to me, and I need you," I whisper again nervously.
"I got that. And we'll figure out how to do this again. Once again, Suzanne you drive me crazy, but I love you anyway," he says so sweetly my smile is immediate.
"I love you too, Mack. So much. I'm really sorry for all this again."
Shrugging, "It was bound to happen, Suzanne. You're not the most stable person I've ever met," he says again so casually we both burst out laughing.
Thank god. A day without Mack's dorky humor would kill me, I think. Ooops. Laughing harder at my tragic analogy, I don't even need to share it. Mack knows the stupid things I think, so he can imagine for himself.
"Okay. I have to go calm my wife down," he smiles as I do. "That sounds kind of cool, huh?"
"Yes, it does. Very cool, actually. Could you please tell your gorgeous wife how very sorry I am that she came home to more Suzanne shit."
"Of course I will. Just relax now. We're going to fix you and then this situation you're in. But no more beating up the orderlies until I return, okay?"
Grinning, I just nod. "Thank you, Mack." God, I love him so much. Even when he goes no holds barred on me.
"You're welcome, Suzanne," he smiles heading for the door to leave me.
CHAPTER 14
Z
"Are you fucking retarded?!" Mack yells as I open the door shocked by his entry.
"Not that I'm aware of," I answer quickly to Mack's glare.
Mack rarely says anything inappropriate and he would never say something so politically incorrect unless he was hammered. Maybe. Laughing, I have to know. "Are you drunk, Mack? Because I can't think of any other reason you would say something so socially unacceptable in your life."
Turning back to me, Mack gets a little too close to me before yelling, "No, I'm not fucking drunk. But I need to be!" And as he storms away from me to the pathetic minibar, I want to laugh again. Mack hasn't been drunk since he was about 24.
"Over on the counter," I say pointing as Mack looks and exhales. There are 6 different high-end bottles of whatever the hell anyone could require to drown their sorrows.
Grabbing the scotch, Mack actually chugs without a glass until he stops to choke.
"That's gotta burn," I throw in for shits and giggles because I'm a bastard who’s fairly annoyed with everything and everyone these days.
Turning back to me, I wait for whatever the hell he has to say. At this point, Mack would have to know what I did to Suzanne so I'm sure he wants to rip me a new one, but I just don't care anymore. I did what I did because I love her and I thought she needed it at the time.
"How was your honeymoon?"
Glaring at me again, Mack asks, “Really?” as I nod. “Fine! It was amazing,” he says not sounding amazed at all.
Grabbing the bottle, Mack slumps into a chair at the table and just stares at me waiting for me to speak I think, but it's not going to happen. If he's pissed at what I did then he can bring it up. I'm tired of being the pussy around here. I've had enough.
I'm also not enough apparently.
"Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you?"
"Not really. My cell-"
"Is shut off, you dickhead. And the hotel wouldn't call you for me or confirm a room number."
"I requested privacy."
"So I had to call your office which is closed, only to be transferred to the night service which I then had to convince to let me talk to anyone in your building, who it turns out was a shipping clerk named Jon."
"I know Jon," I answer deadpan. "He brought me the alcohol."
"Yes, I know. After much talking with Jon, nearly begging like an idiot, I finally convinced him I was Mack, your best friend. I then had to prove it was an emergency by explaining how you were my best man, until he found a goddamn picture of my wedding online and made me describe myself until he was sure I was the fucking groom in the picture and therefore probably your best friend before he would tell me where the fuck you were."
"Chicago Kayla knew which suite I was in I think. Oh, maybe not. I'm sure I told her the hotel, but maybe not the suite number."
"No, you didn't. She could only tell me the Connaught. Really, Z? The fucking Connaught?" He asks totally pissed at me.
"It seemed fitting suddenly," I breathe sitting dow
n across from him in my exhaustion.
"Yeah, the hotel you used to bring women to is very fitting now. What the fuck, Z? Have you cheated on her?"
Growling, I want to punch him as I stand back up to approach him. Seriously. Just like Suzanne, I feel the quick anger well up until only punching someone will do. "Are you actually asking me that?"
"Well, why here? I know what you used this hotel for so don't bullshit me. I know this was the hotel you used when you wanted a little extracurricular fun, without the emotional trappings of having the women in your apartment. So why here?" Mack growls right back.
"I didn't know where else to go."
"Bullshit! Try again, Z."
"Fuck you, Mack! If you don't like the memories of this place, then get the fuck out! I seem to recall you using a suite once or twice, so don't suddenly play innocent with me!"
"That was a different time, and we were in a different place. And we weren't fucking married!"
"I'm NOT married anymore!" I yell standing over him until the sudden silence following my anger shocks me.
I'm in a murderous rage or something. Fuck me... I don't think I've ever been this angry before in my life. I actually feel like I want to kill someone with my bare hands right now. And sadly, it may just be my best friend I kill if he doesn't shut the fuck up.
"Sit down, Z. Now," he demands until I actually do as I'm told. Huh. I guess I am still the pussy here.
Waiting forever in silence, I notice my hands shaking and I wish they'd stop. I also notice my heart is pounding and I can feel my pulse in my forearms and even behind my ears. I’m almost hyper aware of my body suddenly in a way that most people only notice after a hard workout. But I haven't worked out recently. I've done nothing for 6 days but simply function. The only time I switched anything up was to see Suzanne Friday night. And that was kind of the end of everything.
So now I'm just waiting for Mack to yell at me, and I’m waiting for Suzanne to die.
"What's going on, Z?" Mack asks gently and I feel such emotion suddenly, I barely hold in the sob I've been holding since Friday night to laugh instead.
"Do you know what a pussy I am?"
"Yes," Mack answers so deadpan, the quick laughter roars through my chest again in the room. I can't even hold it in anymore. I swear to god, it’s either laugh my ass off or cry like I did when I said goodbye to Suzanne Friday night. And I have to choose laughter because crying feels so final to me.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because I can't cry again. I feel like shit and I want to cry, and I can't because I'm a fucking man. But I actually want to cry like a little bitch again. You know what?"
"What?"
"I've cried 6 times as an adult. 6! That's it. I didn't cry when my parents died, not that they deserved it. Well, maybe my mother did if she didn't know what a fucking piece of shit he was. But I swear she had to have known. So whatever, I didn't even cry for my mother. But I've cried 6 times since I was a kid, and 6 times in the last 3 years, and 5 of them were about or for Suzanne, and one was for my son, which is also kind of about Suzanne."
"Yes," he nods waiting for more.
"I'm a man, Mack! And I'm crying like a little bitch."
"So?"
"So? Ah, well, I feel like a pussy and I hate feeling like a pussy. I'm Z for fuck's sake."
"Yes, you are," he nods again. "What does that mean?"
"It means, I'm fucking Z!"
"Which means what exactly?" He pushes again, and I know what he wants and I know where this is headed and I know what he's trying to do. But I can't stop myself from playing his game anyway.
"It means I'm Z. So I don't have to put up with this shit, I don't have to feel this way, and I don't have to love a Psycho anymore who thinks I'm not enough. I could find anyone to love me. That's what it means!" I yell across the table. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm so sick of feeling scared, and nervous, and fucking insecure around her. And I'm so sick of her fucking Suzanne shit all the time!"
"Bingo!" Mack claps stunning me silent after my outburst.
Leaning across the table, Mack hands me the scotch with a head tilt. "Drink up, Mr. Zinfandel. You're gonna need it," he grins and I actually exhale for the first time in 6 days, or for weeks I guess is more accurate.
"Am I?" I growl at his smile which only makes him laugh at me.
"Yup. I've just been to see your Psycho, so now it's your turn."
"For what?" I ask already chugging straight from the bottle.
"To delve deep," Mack laughs like that's the funniest thing ever.
"To delve deep?"
"Yup. That's a Suzanne expression, and when she says it we both know there's going to be tears and anger and eventually revelations and then maybe even some growth and healing. So we're delving deep tonight, Z."
"There's nothing to talk about," I say with just enough tone to make him not shut the fuck up, but actually laugh at me instead. The fucker.
"Man up, Z. It’s time," he says waiting for me to get on board.
Trying to ignore Mack, I’m drawn back to him waiting for me, and as soon as I look back and we make eye contact he begins.
“Let's start with the biggest issue at the moment for both of you, but I think with your sense of honor probably mostly for you.”
“Which is what?”
“You broke 2 out of 3 rules you promised Suzanne,” he says without the anger I thought he would have on her behalf.
"Yes, but the 3rd one isn't a rule. It's an absurd statement she made once that was so insane and baseless and really fucking mental, I agreed only so she wouldn't be afraid of me, or afraid of something that would absolutely never happen to her in this lifetime."
"To not rape her," Mack says as I nod.
"I mean, really? Don't rape my wife? I wouldn't hurt any woman like that ever. But Suzanne? Just the thought makes me nauseous, and repulsed, and pretty fucking angry that she even asked me that. How the fuck could she ask me that?"
"Because she's scared of all men. Not because she's scared of you."
"I'm a man, Mack, so it's kind of the same thing," I say with a huff of frustration.
"No, it isn't. She asked me the same thing, and I agreed as well. Suzanne loves me and trusts me one hundred percent," Mack says without sounding like he's gloating, but it still pisses me off. "She even trusts me with her body." When I sit forward he quickly continues. "Meaning, I can touch her hand and hug her without any initial fear or panic, Z. You know that's what I mean." And I do, but it still annoys me that they're that close sometimes. "Suzanne knows inside her that I would never hurt her, touch her inappropriately, or even rape her. She knows that, but she still asked me to promise I never would. Just like she asked you."
"And that didn't piss you off?"
"No, it didn't, because it wasn't about me. I'm a man, so she had to ask. But it wasn't about me at all, it was just about my gender."
"You didn't feel like a monster when she asked you that?" I ask remembering exactly how insulted and repulsed I felt when she asked me.
"No, I didn't, Z. Because again, it wasn't about me. Just like it isn't about you."
"Really? Well, it felt like it was about me when she cried in my arms and begged me to promise I’d never rape her. That sure as hell felt like it was all about me at the time," I exhale thinking of that night. "I hated how awful she made me feel. Like she didn't trust me or think I would keep her safe."
"I know you took it that way, but why don't you flip it around. Do you think she asks random men to promise her that? Do you think she would ask Marty, or even Glenn Rose who she kind of trusts? Would she ask your driver, or your staff, or anyone else she sees regularly to not rape her? Would she ask Dr. Phillips, even though they spend a lot of time together in his closed office not to rape her? No, she wouldn't. She asked us because she is afraid of all men, but not of you and me. So she threw it out there for both of us to confirm our promises so she was free to trust us completely."
"That
didn't feel like trust, Mack."
"But does it now? Think about what I just said. Can you see how she gave you an opportunity to make a promise to her so she could move on with you? Do you see how by asking you, she was actually telling you she trusted you wouldn’t hurt her?"
Okay, I see his angle now, and it does make me feel a little better, but wow. "That's some fucked up logic right there. She doesn't ask monsters not to hurt her, but she asks those she trusts so she can trust them?"
"Do you have sex together?"
"Of course," I turn back toward his gaze.
“’Of course’ shouldn't be such a flippant answer, Z,” Mack actually says somewhat angrily. “Do you think there is any other man on the planet Suzanne could have sex with?”
"There better not be," I growl until he smiles and nods.
"There isn't, you idiot," Mack laughs. "She can't even have a goddamn pap smear without losing her mind. She can't be touched medically, and she can't have anyone look at her vagina. When she was pregnant and medical appointments were mandatory, she had panic attacks beforehand and she cried the whole time they occurred. Both Kaylas would have to arrange their schedules so they could be with her during pelvic exams, and even with them holding her hand and talking to her the whole time she freaked out anyway."
"I didn't know about that because she kept me out of that part of her life," I admit sadly thinking of everything I missed with Thomas again.
"Has she been to a doctor for a physical or a pap since you've been together in New York?"
"I don't know."
"She hasn't because she can't. Even after Thomas when a gynecological appointment was necessary she almost lost her mind. She was just shy of totally sedated and Kayla stayed in the room and talked about me actually," Mack smirks, "to distract her. But Suzanne just barely got through it."
"When was that? I was around then after Thomas. Why didn't I know? I would've been there for her."
"She couldn't have you there, Z. She's too messed up about her body, and she didn't want you to know someone was touching her there as she sees her vagina. She still feels disgusting when she thinks of her body in any sexual context whatsoever. Except with you," Mack adds heavily. Exhaling, Mack looks so sad again thinking of my Suzanne I don't know what to say to him.