Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Not long into our marriage, things started slowly changing for the worse. Ivy was exhibiting some strange behaviors. At first, it was subtle, like she’d skip classes or not show up for work. Eventually, it catapulted into something beyond my control—something that would change our lives.
Ivy would accuse me of everything under the sun from cheating to plotting to hurt her. She started chain-smoking heavily. She was turning into a different person before my eyes. I didn’t understand what was happening, but my better instincts told me she was going to need me even though I was tempted to leave.
Then, on top of everything else, her mother died suddenly. Ivy had no other family except for me. She became more and more dependent, and I became more and more afraid to abandon her in that state. Eventually, it became clear that she needed to be evaluated. I’d put it off, afraid of what the doctors would do to her, but it had gotten to a point where she couldn’t even be left alone while I was at work. She’d take off her clothes and roam the street, accuse random strangers of rape, accuse me of rape or devising a plan to murder her. The list of delusions was endless.
I’d heard of schizophrenia but never really understood it. When doctors gave her the formal diagnosis, I read everything I could on it, went to support groups and tried to handle it in the only ways I knew how. Eventually, I had to put her in a group home because I couldn’t work and take care of her at the same time.
Some days were better than others. On her best day, a stranger wouldn’t be able to tell there was anything wrong. On her worst, I was scared she would take her own life. None of the meds they tried in the early days ever worked, and her illness was considered medically resistant. In the years since, they’d managed to find the right combination to help a little, but it’s still not enough. Anything that did work just kept her in a zombie-like state.
I was the one constant in her life. So, while it may have been easy for some people to say I should’ve left her by now, again, I’d tell them to walk a day in my shoes.
Did I love this woman? Yes. Was I in love with her? No. That wasn’t reason enough to abandon her, though. She needed my financial and moral support. Staying legally married assured that I could make decisions on her behalf. She needed to feel safe, and I was the only person who could give that to her. So, as her husband, I kept some of my vows. Others weren’t so easy.
I had needs.
The sexual relationship with Ivy ended not long after her diagnosis. A few years after she moved into the group home, I began to seek out other women for sex. It was always quick, non-committal, never any strings attached. I’d already resigned myself to the fact that a real relationship based on love wouldn’t be possible as long as I was still married to Ivy and caring for her. And that wasn’t going to change. No woman would be able to handle it. Ivy wouldn’t be able to handle it. So, occasional meaningless sex with women would have to be it.
My thoughts were interrupted when the door creaked open, letting some light in.
“Sorry to disturb you. Is she asleep?” A young Hispanic woman with long black hair down to her ass walked into the room. She looked like she could have been a teenager.
“Yeah, she is. Do you need me to wake her up?”
“No. That’s fine. My shift is almost over. I can have Jeri come back in an hour. Someone just needs to give her meds.” She held out her hand, and I took it. “I’m Marisol.”
“I’m Jake, Ivy’s husband. I take it you’re new here?”
“Yes. I just started this week. I…uh…didn’t realize Ivy was married. I saw your picture on her dresser. I thought maybe you were her brother or something.” She looked down at her feet as if she regretted her comment and then glanced back up at me. “Not that she couldn’t have…I didn’t mean…”
“I know what you meant. It’s fine.”
I expected her to walk away, but she moved in closer. “Was she always…like this?” This girl was making it obvious that she was new. It wasn’t the first time that a staffer hired at this place seemed green. Working in social services, the first rule of thumb: do your job and don’t pry into the personal lives of your clients. She’d probably never even worked with the mentally ill before. It was hard to find good staff because the pay was crap considering the responsibilities they had. I guess I couldn’t fault her for her curiosity, but it seemed a little inappropriate.