Naomi's Story

I felt miserable. I didn't want to talk anymore but, at the same time, it felt like I had to. I needed some help to escape this terrible confusion. Once again, the thought of suicide came into my mind.

"Doctor, my dad asked me to talk to you about suicide."

She came immediately alert, her eyes narrowing. "Are you feeling suicidal, Naomi?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. What does it feel like to be suicidal? I just don't feel like living is worth anything anymore."

"Are you in emotional pain or are you numb?"

"I think its pain. Thinking about Andy makes me cry, sometimes uncontrollably. I can't believe I destroyed my life like this."

She sighed. "Your like isn't over. As long as you're living, there are possibilities, good possibilities. You just have to let them happen or make them happen, whichever works better for you."

A grimace crossed my face. I started chewing on my lip again. "My dad wants me to start dating again."

"Again? Have you tried dating before?"

"Yeah. Didn't go over very well."

"What went wrong? What didn't you like?"

"It just seemed like all they really wanted was sex. I couldn't even kiss a guy without getting cold. Anything more aggressive made me sick. I got tired of it real fast."

"You're a very attractive woman. I don't think I can blame them entirely for their desires."

"Yeah, I'm attractive, but I'm not young anymore. Regardless, I'm not a toy. I don't like being treated like that."

"That's good. You need to be assertive. Why do you think you react so strongly to sexual activity?"

"Sex is what destroyed my life. I can't even hug a guy without thinking of Andy. I don't want to date anymore."

Merrill nodded. "Then don't. You have to set your own boundaries. If you can live alone and be happy or at least stable with it, then do so. But you do have to know what to watch for and what to do."

My eyes narrowed and my forehead creased. "What do you mean?"

"I'm a bit concerned by your talk of suicide. I'm going to give you a couple of cards. One is my number and one is for the Suicide Prevention Hotline. Keep them with you at all times."

"Doctor, just because I've thought about it once or twice doesn't mean I'm going to do it."

"The fact that you have thought about, even just once, means you are at risk. Don't hesitate to call those folks. They're there 24/7. That's their job. They can help you." She paused for a moment, locking eyes with me. "If the pain about Andy ever disappears completely, if you start feeling numb emotionally, I want you to call me. That's a danger sign. Don't ignore it. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I think so. If it starts to get weird, I'll call you."

"Good. Are you going to be alright? Can we wait a full week for our next appointment?"

I reached up to scratch at my ear. I sighed again, then nodded. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Same time?"

"Same bat time, same bat channel."

That got a snicker from me. "Doctor, you're crazier than I am."

"Of course," she smiled. "Do you think I'd be doing this job if I wasn't?"

- - - - - - - - - - -

The counseling went on for several years. Doctor Merrill became a friend. Even so, it got old after a while. It was an expensive social call. There wasn't much benefit left in it. I finally called it quits.

Life became boringly routine. I bought a small house in a Norfolk suburb and got out of mom and dad's house. They didn't need me there. I knew I was a drag on them. It was good for all of us. I even started going back to church again. That was probably a good thing because God only knows why I did it. Didn't have much of any effect on me. Just an easy way to waste an hour a week.

My books continued to sell well but even that was getting boring. My editor because more and more of a pain. I was thoroughly sick of him. Only Heather kept me working for that publisher. It finally reached a head when the ass criticized a book that I was really proud of and happy with. That was when I exploded. I told him that if he knew kids better than I did, write the damned books himself. Then I walked out.

About a week later, Heather called me at home. She could probably tell I was in a bad mood. My opening line was, "So what's wrong this time?"

"Naomi," she asked, "do you want me to call back later? I'd rather you were in a better mood when we talk about this.'

That told me instantly that this wasn't going to be a pleasant call. I started to bridle. I could feel the hairs on my neck standing up as I got angry. "After that line, Heather, you'd better tell me what this is about. Right now."

There was a pause. After a few seconds, I heard a long sigh. Then she started talking again. "The COO knows about the conflict between us and the editor. He told me that he agreed with you and he was going to have a talk with the editor. He also thought you were getting tired of writing children's books. Is that true?"

Now I sighed. "Yeah, I am getting tired of it. I mean, how many books are in the series now? It has to be more than fifty."

"Fifty-two," she revealed.

"Okay. That's one book per week for a full year. That's enough. Maybe it is time for me to move on."

"You have something you'd like to try?"

"I'd thought about writing romance novels at one point. Right now, though, I think I'd do better with horror."

"Can I still be your agent?"

"Sure," I chuckled, "but don't hold your breath. Might be a while before I try."

I heard a long breath on the other end of the phone, then Heather's voice. "The COO is going to release us from the contract. He says you've done more than enough for them and he wanted me to thank you for everything. He hopes you'll find another way to keep writing. You know, after working with children's stuff for so long, horror might be a good genre for you."

"Yeah," I said, "thanks. It might be worth a try." My mind was darkening. My thoughts seemed to be slowing, like I was walking through fog. It didn't seem to matter much. "Heather," I finally said, "thanks for being such a good friend. It's been wonderful knowing you. Take care of yourself." Then I hung up.

Putting the phone down, I walked into my bedroom and opened the second drawer in my dresser. That was the junk drawer. I started digging through it, knowing that what I wanted was in there somewhere. It only took a minute to find the little bottle. They were still in there, all twenty of them. That should be enough. I'd read that taking too much at one time could make you throw up, so I took an anti-nausea pill first. After that, I got a glass of wine and slowly took all twenty of the Demerol tablets. I knew it wouldn't take long, so I just laid down on my bed and went to sleep.

- - - - - - - - - -

There were voices in my head, very slowly becoming audible. The first voice that was clear was unfamiliar to me.

"The pills were old, so they weren't fully potent. If they had been, they would have killed her. Demerol is dangerous medication. It looks like her body rejected some of it and it wasn't absorbed very well. Still, if her agent hadn't found her, it wouldn't have mattered. It was close."

'Oh, great,' I thought. 'I fucked up my life and now I've fucked up my death. I'm a real winner.' Suddenly, I heard my mother's voice.

"Doctor, she's awake!"

My eyes started to open and a short, grey-haired man in a white lab coat slowly came into focus. I could see my father behind him, and Heather behind dad.

"Can you see me alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," I grumbled.

"Okay. Please roll onto your back."

I complied and he thanked me. He did that nonsense with the 'follow my finger' routine. Then came that damned ice-cold stethoscope. That didn't help my mood any. I felt the blood pressure cuff tighten on my arm. When it finally released, he nodded and exhaled.

"She'll be alright. Her heart sounds good and her blood pressure is returning to normal. She's a very lucky young lady."

"Depends on your definition of lucky," I hissed.

Mom leaned over and kissed me. Then dad took my hand. "That wasn't very smart," he smiled.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Can't even commit suicide right. Maybe I should buy a pistol."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," the doctor commented. "With this in your medical records, you won't be allowed to buy a gun in Virginia."

"Big deal," I retorted. "There's always Georgia."

Dad looked up at the doctor. "Do we need to get her back with a psychologist? She used to see Doctor Merrill and they became friends."

"No," he replied. "After this, I would recommend a psychiatrist, especially after that last comment."

"I'm not gonna see a shrink," I advised them.

The doctor shook his head and frowned. "I'm not going to require you to see one. It does seem like you may need to, though. Probably soon. If your suicidal ideation is that strong, you may need to be on anti-depressant medication."

"Yeah? Can you OD on that stuff?"

He turned to my father. "I can release her at any time but she's going to have to be watched. Can you arrange that?"

"I think so. May take a couple of days."

"Alright. I'll keep her here until you tell me to discharge her." The doctor made some notes on a chart at the foot of the bed then walked out. When he did, three people were staring at me in silence.

I got increasingly uncomfortable. "Okay, enough with the silent treatment. Who's first?"

"Naomi," dad said, "why didn't you just come home? You could have stayed with us as long as you wanted to. Why try to kill yourself?"

Mom was crying as I started to answer dad. Still, I caught myself the first time and swallowed back the words I was about to say. Being a smartass wasn't going to help anything. "Dad, I'm tired. I'm lonely. I've been living a life I destroyed thirty years ago. Then my publisher fired me. What exactly do I have to live for?"

"Your mother and I love you. Have you thought about what your suicide would have done to us? This isn't a good way to go."

I frowned. No, I hadn't thought about that but I don't think it would have changed anything. I didn't want to go back to relying on 'mommy and daddy' again. They didn't need it, either.

"No, I guess I didn't. I'm sorry. I'm being selfish. Just one more stupid move in my life."

The voice that answered surprised me. It was Heather. "Naomi, I've been on the phone all day. MacMillan wants to pick you up. You have a publisher, and they don't care want genre you want to write in."

I looked up at Heather with interest. MacMillan would be a step up. That was interesting. "MacMillan wants me? Why?"

"You have twelve best selling books! Of course, they want you. Any sane publisher would. MacMillan was the first I called. They jumped on it. You're still a hot property, girl!"

"Well, at least that's something positive."

Dad looked at me with a soft smile. "You're going to have to move back in with us, at least for a while. Is that okay?"

"Dad, I don't want a caretaker, and that's what you and mom would become. That's not fair to you. I'll just go home."

"The doctor isn't going to let you go home unless we can arrange to watch you all the time."

I shrugged. "So? What he don't know won't hurt him?"

"Honey, if you try that, he may order you temporarily institutionalized. Psychiatric hospitals aren't much more than upscale prisons. You wouldn't like it."

"Who's going to tell him?" I snapped. "I don't think you and mom would do that to me."

"Nomi," Heather interjected, "I would. I'd rather have you hate me than have you dead."

I stared at her, a hard glare coming across my face. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Heather. It would be the last time you ever heard from me."

"I don't think that will be necessary," came a voice from the doorway. I looked up and froze. One deep breath was all I got before my lungs stopped working.

Dad got up and walked to the door, extending his hand. They shook hands firmly. "Thanks for coming, son," I heard dad say.

"Thanks for letting me know, dad," the new arrival replied. "Maybe I can help a bit."

Dad nodded then waved to mom and Heather. The three of them left the room, leaving me alone with a man I hadn't seen in decades. He closed the door to the room before walking to the chair next to the bed and sitting down.

"Hi, Nomi. That was one hell of a dangerous way to get me to see you again."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing or hearing. My voice came out in a near croak. "Andy?"

"You were expecting Superman?"

My hands started to tremble and my eyes filled. I was breathing again but it felt like my heart was going to explode. "Oh, Andy." The tears exploded from my eyes

as I sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

His hand came up in front of my face and his finger laid on my lips. "No more apologies. I told you I'd forgiven you. It all ended at that time."

I nodded, not daring to believe what was happening. I realized that I was in a coma and I was just dreaming this. It just wasn't possible. Then I heard a chuckle.

"It's real, kitten. I'm really here. I'm glad I got here in time."

"In time for what?" I managed.

"To hear those idiotic comments you made to the doctor. You're not going to get those pills and you're not going to Georgia for a pistol. You won't even have to move in with your parents."

"He said someone is going to have to watch me."

"That's not a problem," he smiled.

I wasn't sure what he was talking about but at the moment I didn't care. He was talking to me. He was sitting in my room and actually talking to me. I just wanted to find a way to keep it going. I knew that if he stopped talking I would wake up and he would disappear.

I didn't know exactly what to say. So I took the easy way out. I wanted to know what was happening in his life. "How is Leah?" I asked. The moment I did I knew it was a mistake.

Andy's eyes closed and he lowered his head. I saw the pain etched into his face and his hands clench. His jaw locked as his lips tightened.

It took a moment to register. Then I knew with horror what was wrong. "Oh, God," I whispered. "Oh, no."

His voice came in a strained whisper. He was fighting tears. "Two years ago. She had cancer. By the time they identified it, it was too late."

My own tears were starting to escape. "Oh, Andy, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he replied. "She was in so much pain. They managed to keep her comfortable and we got to do a lot of things that she wanted. We had six months before it happened. It was quiet and gentle. She was smiling as she died." His tears started now and I just lay there quietly. There wasn't anything I could do that would matter.

Andy fought his grief down, then looked back at me. "I'd ask what's happening in your world, but that's rather obvious."

"Yeah. Doc says I'm fine, but I've got to stay here until they can find a permanent babysitter for me."

"Hmm. Doesn't sound like you're too fond of the idea."

"Would you be?" I retorted. "I'm open to suggestions."

He smiled, looking down again. His next words shocked me. "How about me?"

"Uh, did I just hear that?"

"Naomi, I don't want you to feel like a prisoner for the rest of your life. I sure as hell don't want you to kill yourself. You told me a long time ago that you would always be mine. I still have that letter. Is it still true?"

My heart was in my throat. This just couldn't be happening. Not after all these years. Yet, there he was, offering to by my nursemaid. "Andy, I never stopped loving you. I still do. Are you serious?"

He sighed. His eyes looked down again. "Nomi, I still love you. I always have. After what I did to you, are you really still interested in me?"

"After what You did to Me?" I choked. "Oh, God, is that ever ass backwards. Of course, I'm still interested in you. Are you really interested in me?"

He shrugged. "It seems like a better option than a psychiatric hospital."

"Your place or mine?" I grinned.

He chuckled. "I'll leave that to you. I'm willing to move into your place or I'd be happy if you moved into mine. Doesn't matter to me."

I smiled again. "Well, I guess we'll have to get the doctor's approval, but it works for me."

At that moment the door opened and four people walked in. They were all grinning at us. The doctor walked to my bed and picked up the chart.

"You're going to take care of her?" he asked Andy.

"I think we're going to take care of each other," came the quiet answer.

The doctor smiled, replacing the chart. "I'll start her discharge papers. She can go home with you this afternoon."

- - - - - - - - - -

Dad remarried us the following month. It was a very small ceremony. Didn't even use the church. He did it in his living room.

It was a tiny wedding party; me, Andy, mom, dad, Heather, and Andy's brother. He was in full uniform, a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps. Andy would have invited his daughter but she was stationed at Pearl Harbor and couldn't make the trip.

I moved into Andy's house. That's where we are now. We're both in our early sixties. I don't know how many years we have left, but I know that they'll be happy years. That's more than I ever expected. It's more than I deserve. But I'll take it.