I had many doubts. Sometimes the doubts were the realization that I
didn't really know her, but mostly a growing feeling that I was losing my
sense of judgment. We disagreed on the importance of family, at least my
family. For Michelle, it was intolerable that I could love anybody but
her. She saw others as a threat to my feelings for her.
One morning after we settled in Taos, Michelle answered the phone.
I was in the bathroom shaving when I heard her say, "He doesn't want to
talk to you." I suspected that it was my father and went into the bedroom
to take the call.
"I don't give a sh-t what he is to you," Michelle continued. "He is
my husband, you f-cking asshole!"
"Dad?" I grabbed the phone, but the line was dead.
"He deserved it. He never liked me. What has he ever done for me to
show me that he cares? You are with me now. You have to give up your
daddy. Don't fight it. He is a grown man. He can take it and so can
you."
I returned home from work that evening to find that Michelle had
prepared her favorite dinner. I was in no mood to fight. The day had been
long in the operating room. She was conciliatory. "I'm sorry for the way
that I am."
Living in Taos was hard for Michelle. After a few months I
reluctantly moved back with her to Florida, where I resumed my
internship.
One morning after we'd returned, I suggested having lunch with my
parents. At first she appeared irritated, but after a session with her
therapist, she agreed.
As the weekend approached, Michelle became more irritable and
demanding. On Saturday morning, I prepared for lunch at the country club.
"What's that?" asked Michelle, pointing to my tie.
I tensed. "My dad gave it to me."
"Well, take it off; it's ugly."
"I'm going to wear it. Why don't you just get ready?"
"You just can't let go of them, can you?"
"I haven't seen my parents in months."
"Take that f-cking tie off!" she demanded.
"This tie is not an issue. Let's go." I turned to the mirror to
straighten the tie.
"Here, let me help you with it," she said as she grabbed the tie.
With the slice of a pair of scissors, she cut it in half. "Now you can
take it off," she said.
I sat on the bed with clenched fists. "She is sick, she is
sick." I repeated. Eventually I stood up.
"I'm not ready yet," she said.
"I'm leaving."
Michelle came running after me. I slammed the car door. "Okay,
okay, give me just a minute," she insisted. She tapped on the car window,
lips offering a conciliatory kiss. I lowered the window and she leant
into the car to kiss me. "Sorry, sorry." Then she grabbed the keys out of
the ignition. "I told you to wait until I was ready. Are you f-cking
deaf?"
I had been committed to the belief that my love would cure her. Now
I looked at her, as miserable as she was, and I could not conjure up this
thought anymore. I had believed that giving her strong, unconditional
love would fill the uncertainties she felt. But it was never enough. "No
one could ever love me forever," she had said. Maybe she would prove this
to be true.
I was overwhelmed with sadness. The relationship was dead. We
separated several months later. And when I found out that Boston
University had accepted me into psychiatry residency, I telephoned
Michelle to let her know.
She said: "I met a guy. He's 50, but he owns a Rolls-Royce. He
doesn't need to work so he can spend all his time with me. I don't love
him, not like I loved you, but love is crap. I need someone who'll take
care of me."
Tags:
beautiful home,
bipolar,
borderline,
bottle of pills,
box of tissues,
brown eyes,
charcoal,
chocolate cake,
closer look,
crowd,
depression,
internship,
lips,
love,
medical student,
meeting in the hospital,
men fall in love,
mental illness,
o hara,
pretty face,
spending time,
taos new mexico,
vivien leigh
