Jonathan's Legacy Page 3

  “Depression?” Marc was surprised to hear the word. He’d never even felt depressed. Sad, yes, but depressed? “Doctor, I just buried my husband. Couldn’t this just be exhaustion? I mean, depression sounds so serious.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m a psychiatrist, specializing in clinical depression and the treatment thereof. I spoke to your father earlier today and your relatives here in Chicago. I heard from your family that you recently got married, and that you lost your husband on your wedding day? That’s quite a blow to anyone.”

  “Yes, Jonathan died the day we got married. But that was almost five months ago. Why would I react now? After all this time?”

  “The mind works in mysterious ways. Your father told me you’d flown back to Europe after the incident, because your mother was feeling ill. It seems to me that rather than facing the fact of your husband’s death, you may have suppressed it, putting up a strong facade for the sake of others—your mother and your American family. I’m going out on a limb here, but there’s a young couple out there, waiting to see you, and from what they tell me, even in the hours after your husband’s passing, you were looking after everyone else, not just your parents but your late husband’s children and grandchildren. I think you put your own needs on the back burner, and all the while you suffered the most.

  “Losing your partner on your wedding day? Come on, Marc, you have to admit, that’s an awful thing to deal with, but maybe you never did deal with it. Instead, you buried those emotions deep, deep within you, until last night, when you finally came back to the place where you and your husband had been together in your most intimate hours, and you snapped. Could I be right?”

  Marc thought about the doctor’s words, returning to the day of the wedding, the reception and the dinner, and Jonathan’s final kiss, before he went to the bathroom and that fateful stroll, a walk from which he never returned. New tears began to roll down his cheeks.

  “I see how badly you are suffering, Marc; your eyes speak volumes. You need to confront that pain, you need to give yourself time to heal, to learn to live with it. Losing your partner is one of the most difficult things that can happen to us, along with young children losing their parents or parents losing their kids. The bond we share with these people is so strong that losing them can undo the very fabric of our existence. But in order to move on and heal, we must grieve. We must allow ourselves to face that reality. And it seems to me you never afforded yourself that time, bottling it up within you, instead. And when it burst, it did so violently.”

  “Maybe, Doc, maybe. I haven’t really thought about it before. There were just always other people who needed help.”

  “That may very well be, but now you need to look after yourself. As it is, I need to ask you a few questions. Physically, you’re fine. Or, at least, you’re exhausted, but there’s nothing wrong with your body to keep you here. However, the state wants to make certain that you’re not going to harm yourself or inflict harm on others. So let me ask you this: have you ever thought about killing yourself?”

  Marc looked at the doctor and was stupefied by the question. “No! I mean, there were times when I was young and realized I was gay that I didn’t want to live, but I never, ever, considered actually doing anything about it. Like taking pills or cutting my wrists. I’ve loved my life too much.”

  “Good, I didn’t think you were the type, and I don’t think you’re capable of harming others, either. Here’s the deal. I want you to stay here today and another night, just to make sure you don’t have any more of those episodes. I’m prescribing you medication for your depression symptoms right now, and I want you to take those regularly. Also, I want you to begin a series of therapy sessions and grief counseling, to deal with your loss and the resulting depression. I have a feeling we’ll have you back on your feet in no time.”

  “Hmm, I see. Doctor Kim, do I have to take those ‘happy pills’?”

  “Call me Adam, or Hwan, that’s my Korean name, please. We’re not that formal around here. As for the pills, I think you should take them, for a few weeks, at least. If we make progress in the sessions, we can reduce the dosage and remove them altogether over time, but they’ll help stabilize your mood, and they’ll make sure you don’t have any more episodes. The thing is, now you’ve broken through that barrier between your conscious and your subconscious grief, those episodes can theoretically occur anytime. All you need is the right trigger, something that reminds you of your husband, like it did this morning here at the hospital. Next time, it could be at a street intersection, or at a grocery store, or worse, driving a vehicle. This is for your own good as much as anyone around you. I only have your best interests at heart.”

  “Okay, Doc, I mean, Adam. I’ll take them.”

  “Attaboy! I’ll come by again in the morning to sign the discharge papers, and we’ll set up our first session. I have my own practice downtown if you’d rather go there, or we can meet here at the hospital, or—if you already have a counselor—you can schedule sessions with them. I’ll just need to be notified, as I’m the one responsible for your well-being as far as the state is concerned.” The doctor blinked at him and smiled.

  “I’ve never been to a shrink before.”

  “Me it is, then. Now, get some rest and take those pills, okay? Do you want me to send in your visitors?”

  “Yes, please. That would be nice.”

  “See you in the morning.” Adam got up, shook Marc’s hand, and left the room.

  Shortly after, Cody and Parker knocked and walked in, worry and concern all over their faces. They both hugged Marc and sat down, Cody on the chair the doctor had previously occupied, Parker on the bed.

  “You gave us quite a scare. How are you feeling?” Cody asked.

  “I’m all right, I guess. I mean, I feel strangely empty—it’s a weird feeling.”

  “Could it be the meds?” Parker suggested. “I’m just glad you’re awake. By the way, I spoke to your dad late last night, told him what had happened. Your mom and dad send their love and want you to call them.”

  “Thanks. The doctor told me he’d also spoken to my dad. Is my vid-phone here?”

  Cody grabbed it from his bag and handed it over. “We’ve also brought some of your essentials—toothbrush, shaver, deodorant, and so on. How long will they keep you here?”

  “The doc says I can go home in the morning. I wish I could leave now, but I guess they want to make sure I don’t do anything foolish.”

  “Such as?”

  “Suicide, mass murder? I don’t know exactly. I think they’re mostly worried about suicide, and apart from my word, they don’t have much to go on…”

  “That’s heavy, man,” Parker said. “That would suck, wouldn’t it? If you let a patient go home and he went ahead and killed himself. I can see why the doctors want to minimize the risk.”

  “Thank you for your empathy.” Marc smiled weakly. “I can guarantee you that I won’t attempt any such thing. I’ve spoken to the doctor, and I think he may be right. Maybe I didn’t grieve Jonathan the way I should’ve. Maybe I did bottle it all up, hid it deep within me.” Fresh tears broke the seal of his eyes, and began to flow down his cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, Marc,” Cody spoke softly. “I can only imagine how you must feel. I remember how much I missed Parker after I ran away, and the immense relief I felt when he showed up at my hospital room in Albuquerque. That feeling of never seeing him again, even though I knew he was alive, was indescribably painful. But you? Wow, to lose the man you love forever? On your wedding day. I’m sorry we didn’t push you harder.”

  “Push him?” Parker was confused. “What do you mean, ‘push him’?’”

  “We should’ve made sure that Marc had a chance to grieve properly. We should’ve helped him with his mother. Instead, we all looked after ourselves and completely forgot about his needs. Yes, Grandpa was important to all of us, but still, we’d known him for years, some of you all your lives. We’d all spent so much time w
ith him. But Marc, he got less than a year, and in that short time, they were so happy. To suddenly have that taken away from you, like a rug that’s pulled from underneath you, must be debilitating to anyone. Yet we barely cared for him.”

  Parker became thoughtful. “Sorry, babe. You have a point, of course. I didn’t see it that way. I guess we were all so absorbed with our own feelings and emotions that we didn’t consider you enough,” he said to Marc. “I’m sorry. Is there any way we can make it up to you?”

  Marc smiled through his tears. “Thank you, guys. I mean it. Merci. I don’t think you could’ve done anything. This has always been who I am, putting my own needs on the back burner, looking after others first. Jonathan and I talked about this, too, sometimes. He wanted me to be more assertive of my own needs. Remember the day I proposed to him?”

  “The champagne trick? How could we forget?”

  “That was shortly after one of those discussions. We had come out there to see you because Jonathan wanted to make sure you were all right. The Grand Canyon visit was just a ruse. He didn’t want to appear nosy. I mean, we got all the bulletins from you, but he wanted to see for himself. He needed to see your faces to be certain that you were okay, that you were happy. So we planned the Grand Canyon trip as a front, a little Potemkin village, if you please. That first night in Albuquerque, he told me to take better care of my own needs. He felt I was only looking after him and his needs, and that the only reason we went to the Grand Canyon was because he wanted to, because he needed to.

  “And he pressured me into thinking about something that I needed, something that I really wanted. Marrying him was such a thing. It was symbolically important to me, not to Jonathan. I’d accepted that we would simply be together, live together as long as he lived, but that I’d never officially be a part of the family. The step to marry him—to officially replace Dan—would’ve been too big of a sacrifice for Jonathan. But after that conversation in Albuquerque, I soul-searched and came to the conclusion that marrying him was the only thing I wanted.

  “I know this sounds strange, and I didn’t want his money. I wanted the world to know that I had finally found the man of my life, the one for me. I’m weird, huh?”

  “No,” Cody said and put his hand on Marc’s. “That’s not weird at all. Look at Parker and me. We did the same thing, and I completely believe in marriage as an important bond between two people, the whole ‘for better and worse’ part of it.”

  “I agree with Cody,” Parker said. “Even though you can share your life with someone without that piece of paper, there’s a difference. Like with healthcare—it’s different walking up to a nurse’s desk and asking to see your husband rather than your partner or boyfriend. It might not make any difference, as far as the heart is concerned, but the legal implications can’t be ignored. And given Grandpa’s age, there was a likelihood you’d spend a considerable amount of time with doctors and in hospitals as Grandpa would’ve grown older. I can understand you wanted to be sure you’d be able to be there and not rely on the family’s permission.”

  “You’re right, Park, but that wasn’t a big concern for me. Jonathan signed a power of attorney the minute we got home from Honolulu, and neither your mom nor Rick questioned my right to be at his side.”

  “Mom and Rick are cool, but it’s only when push comes to shove that people reveal their real character. I’m glad you felt welcome in our family, even if we failed at seeing to your needs.”

  Cody asked, “Are you coming back to the house tomorrow?”

  “If I may? Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Of course,” Parker responded. “You can stay for as long as you like. It’s as much your home as it is ours. And if you feel you want to move to another room to get some distance, that’s totally fine. If you’d like to stay where you are, that’s fine, too. Either way, just tell us what you need, and we’ll make it happen.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 5 - The Long Journey

  Adam was sitting behind his desk when Marc walked in. He’d been back home for a week, and today was his first counseling session with the doctor.

  “Marc, welcome. Have a seat.”

  Marc approached the desk and gave the doctor, who’d gotten up, a handshake. “What’s this, Doc? No couch?”

  Adam laughed. “You watch too many movies. Why don’t we sit over here?” He gestured to two comfortable-looking black leather chairs with a coffee table in between. “Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? Water? Soda?”

  “A glass of water would be nice.”

  “Water it is.” Adam walked over to the far wall of the office and opened a refrigerator that was built into a cupboard, grabbing a bottle of water from it. “I only have still water. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Thank you, that’ll be just fine.”

  Adam poured the cool liquid into two glasses, walked back to Marc, and put the two glasses on the coffee table, before sitting down, notepad in hand. He almost instantly began with a question. “So, Marc, tell me, how have you been? Have you been taking the medication?”

  “Yes, Doctor—”

  Adam put up his hand. “What did I tell you? Call me Adam, or Hwan. Doctor is so formal.”

  “But you are a doctor?”

  “Yeah, but still, it’s my job, not who I am. You don’t walk into a store and say, ‘Hey butcher, hand me some pork chops…’” He laughed before continuing, “I may be a medical doctor, but I am also a human being. For this to work—” he gestured back and forth between him and Marc with his arm “—you have to trust me, and I must feel that I can trust you, too. So please, indulge me, all right?”

  “Okay, if you insist. I’ve been brought up to refer to doctors by their title. I guess different cultures are different in this regard. Does Hwan mean anything? And why do you have an English first name?”

  “I’d say this is more about me than culture. You’ll find that a lot of doctors pride themselves in being called Doc or Doctor. I may be an exception. Personal preference, not cultural. I was born here, in Chicago, to Korean parents. I guess they wanted to give me an English name—biblical, by the way, my parents are very religious, Korean Pentecostalists—to make life easier for me, and they named me Hwan to firmly root me in our ancestral culture. Hwan means ‘shining, bright’ in our language. But I usually go by Adam. Most Americans find Asian names difficult to pronounce.”

  Marc looked at the doctor—Adam—this tall, slim black-haired, fair-skinned man sitting next to him. He noticed how tight the skin was above his upper eyelids. He looked to be no more than twenty-five or thirty, but given the fact that he was a doctor, he must have been older.

  “I’m sorry,” Marc began, “I know this is probably none of my business, but may I ask how old you are?”

  Adam laughed. “What, can’t you tell? I know it’s difficult for most non-Asians. Many of us have this genetic make-up that keeps us looking young, really young, for a long time, and then, boom! One day we look really old… Much unlike Caucasians, who age more gradually. How old do you think I am?”

  Marc hesitated. “You look twenty-five, but given you’re a doctor, I’d say you’re in your…mid-thirties?”

  “I’m forty-two, actually. So give me a few more years and I’ll fall apart, white hair and wrinkly skin…” He laughed, although Marc detected a hint of sadness and sarcasm in Adam’s voice.

  “Really? Wow, I would’ve never guessed. Makes you older than I am. I’ll be forty-one this August.”

  “Oh? What are you? Leo or Virgo?”

  “Virgo, August twenty-ninth. Are you into that sort of thing?”

  Adam laughed. “As a psychiatrist, I’d say no, but as a man, I appreciate that we cannot explain all things with science. I’m a Gemini—June sixth.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to remember that.” Marc smiled. The atmosphere between the two was relaxed and personable.

  “Now,” Adam said, “tell me, how do you feel?”

  This made Marc pensive, and the high
spirits he’d been in a moment ago dissipated. “I’ve been okay, I guess. I’m not sure if it’s the meds, but I haven’t really felt much. It’s as if a wet blanket’s been pulled over my head. I don’t feel much of anything. I haven’t had any episodes since I left the hospital. I can move about the house freely, and I see all the things that remind me of Jonathan, but none of them affect me emotionally. They trigger memories, but I just kind of feel dull.”

  “Sounds like the meds, yes. Well, if you like, you can skip one of the two daily pills, preferably the morning one, and we can see how that will affect you. Have you given any thought to the conversation we had that first day I met you?”

  “About grief? And not being able to grieve for Jonathan?”

  Adam nodded.

  “Do you mind if I tell you a story?”

  “By all means, this is your time. Go ahead.”

  “When I first realized I was gay, I was miserable. I think I told you at the hospital.”

  Adam nodded. “Not an unusual feeling for many in the LGBT community, despite the fact we’ve made such huge strides in the past decades. When you realize that you’re different, it is difficult, in part because of the time this happens, during puberty. We have so much else to deal with, we just don’t want to have to tackle this, too. I understand perfectly. Go on, Marc, tell me, did something particular happen?”

  “Not really. My parents were supportive. I told them early on, and they accepted it. But what prompted those feelings in me was one of my teachers in school. I fell for my biology teacher. He was much older, of course—older than my parents even. I never told them, and nothing ever happened between us. I’m not even sure if he knew that I secretly pined for him, and frankly, I doubt he was gay. But my entire life since, I’ve always been attracted to older men, much older men. Not primarily because of their physical appearance. I mean, I’ve been physically attracted to younger guys and men my age, and I’ve had sexual encounters and so on, but only older men have ever made me feel secure, loved. Does that make sense?”