Sullivan and the Lies He Heard

Yeah, he did. He nodded.

"Because from what you're seeing and hearing, I think this might be schi--"

Sullivan couldn't let her say it. He knew the word she was about to say, because ever since they'd begun weeping outside her bedroom, it was the same word he hadn't let himself think. A terrifying word. Once it was spoken--or thought--there'd be no going back.

"Don't," he barked. Then, seeing her startled look at the outburst, he felt guilty. "I just...please don't. Not yet."

"Okay. I get it. We'll just find a good psychiatrist, see what they say. We'll do it as soon as possible. Before things get any worse."

Sullivan nodded again. An arm still around her, he reached for his mug. The drink was cool now, but still tasted good. He took a few swallows before what she'd said sank in. He lowered the mug again. "What do you mean 'before things get any worse'? Nothing's been bad before now. This came on suddenly."

Doe's lips compressed. "If you want to know the truth, I've been concerned about you for a while."

This surprised him. He hadn't noticed anything abnormal about himself until that day at the pier when he'd seen the evil rowing man. He frowned at his wife, waiting for her to elaborate.

She did. "It wasn't anything over-the-top. Nothing that other people would notice straight away. But for the last year or so, you sometimes haven't seemed like yourself."

"How?"

Doe frowned too. "You were disconnected at times. You didn't laugh at things you'd normally find funny. You didn't talk as much. Every so often you'd say something...unusual. Not too out-there, but enough to make me look at you twice. You trusted people even less than normal for you. I remember you once made an untrusting comment about our friends that shocked me." She paused. "The thing that got me most was your attitude whenever we watched the news. You always got quiet and stared at the screen. Lately I started getting worried you might say something about newsreaders sending you coded messages or something."

Sullivan stared at her, then into the depths of his mug. "Oh," was all he managed. He'd have to question her some more, but this put some things about their relationship into perspective for sure.

She touched his face again. "We'll figure it out. I'll get in touch with our insurer and find out how much--"

His head shot up. "No." The word came cold and swift.

Doe eyed him. "But you just agreed to see a psychiatrist."

"Yeah. I did. I didn't agree to make an insurance claim, though. That'd mean telling them about it." His words were tinged with anger; just a little. "I don't need a million-dollar insurance company knowing what a fucked-up madman I am. We'll pay for the shrink out of pocket."

Even as he said this, Sullivan wasn't sure if it was paranoia talking, or these were his own true feelings. It didn't matter. He wasn't making a fucking claim for this one.

His wife eyed him again. Whatever her thoughts were, she didn't voice them. She just nodded. "If that's what it takes for you to see a professional, fine. We'll keep it to ourselves and pay out of pocket."

He paused. Again, he was unsure if this was him or paranoia, but... "I'll pick the clinic and shrink myself."

She hesitated. "We'd do a better job of that together."

"I said I'll do it myself."

Doe opened her mouth, but closed it again. "Fine. But I'll give input when I decide it's needed."

"Okay. But don't get pissy when I ignore any input I don't like."

Annoyance flickered in her eyes, but she didn't retort. Reaching across the table for her mug, she drained it, then leaned back against his chest. They sat like that awhile, his arms around her.

"Think you're okay to go back upstairs now?" she asked.

He glanced at the clock. Nearly 4:00am. He'd robbed her of a good night's sleep. "I guess. Let's go."

Doe stood up and went for the door. Sullivan put their used mugs in the sink and followed her. They went upstairs.

At her doorway, she offered her hand. He took it, and they both looked inside the room together. He saw no fire, and no signs that there'd ever been one; no ashes, no char, no soot. It was just his wife's bedroom, with the sheets rumpled from his hauling her out of bed. If he'd needed any more confirmation that something was wrong with him, this was it.

She was watching him.

"It's stopped," he said quietly.

"Good. We'll go lie down in your bedroom."

Sullivan eyed her. If she was afraid of him, she was doing a pretty good job hiding it. He'd understand if she chose to stay in her room with the door barricaded. "Do you still want to be in the same bed as me?"

She gave him a challenging look, black brows arched. "Are you still my husband?"

He had to smile a bit. "Last I checked."

"Then let's go lie down in your bed."

In his bedroom, the blackout blinds were still down and the white-noise machine still on. "Want me to turn this off?" he asked.

"No. Leave it."

They got in his bed. Doe shifted close, her hand on his chest. His arm was around her middle. For the first time in a long time, they were cuddling. She didn't speak. He didn't either. About half an hour passed, and she drifted to sleep.

He didn't. He lay staring wide-eyed into the dark, doing his best not to think of one particular word.

***

He lay there a couple of hours before getting up again. As Doe slept on, Sullivan put on pants and left the bedroom. The first thing he did was go to her room and collect her woodshop key. With it, he went outside. The sun was just rising. He unlocked her woodshop door, went in, and dismantled the equipment he'd instaled just yesterday.

His face grim, he took the recording mic in his palm and squeezed. It broke in his grip. Striding out of the woodshop, he dumped all the equipment's components in Recycling.

Gone. No more feeding that paranoia.

He put the key back in her room and returned to the kitchen to make breakfast. There were red-striped spiders in his peripheral vision the whole time. He ignored them. It wasn't easy, but he ignored them.

After he finished cooking, he left the food on warm to wait for her. Pouring a mug of his cold-brew tea, he sat out on the porch step; drinking it, watching the breaking Sunday, and trying not to let fear crush him from the inside out.

Sometime after 9:00am., the porch door opened. He looked over his shoulder as she stepped out. He wanted to wish her a good morning and apologize again for last night, but his heart was too heavy for him to speak.

Doe was holding a blanket. She sat beside him, spreading the blanket over their knees. "Got any more sleep?"

Sullivan shook his head. There was long silence. At last, he scraped up enough morale to speak. "Been a long time we sat together like this."

"I know."

"I spent a lot of time wondering why we were growing apart, never realizing it was my own fault."

"And mine."

He looked at her. "Think so?"

"Know so. After we settled here, paid off the mortgage, started the savings account and finally stopped having money worries, things got so good between us. Remember years three and four of living in this house?"

Did he ever. Those were the best years of their relationship, no contest. There'd finally been no external stressors, and the internal issues hadn't cropped up yet.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Things were so good with us, I didn't want anything to change our dynamic and potentially screw things up. Including the dress-and-suit wedding, and having kids."

Brows raised, Sullivan faced her. "That's why you kept shooting me down whenever I brought it up?"

"I was scared." Gold sun was in her eyes. Black hair streamed down her body. "It took years of struggling for us to get past poverty without breaking up. Then we finally got where we wanted to be and we were so good together. I still wanted the wedding and kids, but I also didn't want things changing between us."

He gave a half-sigh, half-groan. "Fuck, Doe, why didn't you talk to me and tell me how you felt?"

"Because you'd have said I was being an idiot."

"And I'd have been right."

She gave him a look. "Anyway, Sophia died a few years later and we all had to be there for Rocky. It was the wrong time for a splashy wedding or pregnancy announcements."

That part he understood. "But what about after?"

"That's when I started noticing those changes in you. I was ready for the wedding and kids by then, but when you started changing...I had to wait and see. I'm not sorry for that. I'm never bringing kids into a home that isn't stable." She looked straight at him. "You agree."

His heart was lanced, because he agreed utterly. Right now, he was the last guy who should be a father. He would rather never become a parent than ever be an unsafe one. "Yeah."

Doe put her hand on his. This time, Sullivan didn't hesitate before wrapping his fingers around hers.

"There's one apology I owe you," she admitted. "When you first seemed disconnected, I took it personally. I thought you were bored of me, and I got mad. Decided that if you were going to be that way, then fuck you and I'd dish out the same treatment. I should have done better."

"I'd probably have reacted the same. You're forgiven."

"Thanks, but I still wish I'd been fair to you. It wasn't until I noticed the other things that I realized it was more serious than a husband getting bored. I tried sometimes to get through to you. I failed most times."

"So did I, with the same results." He sighed at the whole sorry deal. "But you still love me?"

She squeezed his fingers. "I couldn't stop if I tried."

She's lying again.

Worthless gutter waste. Rip her tongue out of her head and she'll never lie again.

Maybe she was lying, but she still cared about him enough to pretend. That counted for something.

You're as worthless as her. Kill yourself.

"After last night, I know you still love me," she said.

"Always." Sullivan raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "We'll figure out the wedding and kids eventually."

"We will. I haven't given up on that."

"Me neither." He paused for a beat. "And we don't need to tell anyone about any of this. About...me."

"It's always been us against everything else, treasure. This won't be any different."

He tried to believe her. There was no logical reason for her to lie about this, hence she must be telling the truth. He didn't feel it was true, but he tried to accept it on a logical level. She wasn't lying. She wouldn't tell anyone. She wouldn't want him to be ashamed, wondering if everyone was treating him differently. Fearing him. Thinking he was dangerous. She wouldn't want that for him. She loved him.

"Good." He kissed her knuckles again.

"Makes me wonder about this Christmas, though. Liam and Beck and Rocky are going to be here. Can you handle it?"

He smiled humorlessly. "That is, can I appear normal for a few days in front of them?"

Doe mirrored the smile. "I guess so. We could just find an excuse to tell them not to come this year."

Sullivan shook his head. "It'd be too hard on Rocky, with Sophia and all. Let them come. I... I'll do my best. Maybe I'll leave the room if I start feeling weird. And you'll cover for me. Run interference." He looked into her eyes, hoping to see the truth there. Hoping to be convinced that she was on his side. "Right?"

"Right." She stroked his thigh with her free hand. "I don't know what's going through your head right now, but I'm not going anywhere. You've got me for good, Sullivan."

In that instant, he was embarrassed for ever doubting. The doubts would probably soon return, but for this fleeting moment, he believed in her. He held onto that as long as he could, with his lips pressed to her hand.

***

Finding a shrink wasn't as easy as he'd first thought. There were several factors he kept in view. Some rational, others perhaps less so. But he didn't compromise on any.

First, it had to be an outpatient facility. He wouldn't give anyone the opportunity to hold him against his will. If it was an inpatient facility, they'd lock him up and throw away the key. But if it was an outpatient clinic where they couldn't hold him, maybe they'd actually try to help him.

Second, it had to be at least 100 miles away from Albany. He couldn't take the chance of being seen by an acquaintance, and them knowing.

Third, it had to be a facility where all the employed shrinks were licensed and reputable. He wasn't about to put himself in the hands of a bunch of quacks--and wind up crazier than ever.

Fourth, he needed to have a positive gut feeling about the place. This was key, even if all the other criteria were met.

The rest of October passed without his finding a facility that satisfied him. November rolled on by, and he wasn't even close to starting treatment.

Doe often offered input. She urged him to lower his location requirement to 50 miles, or try a facility that met his first three requirements even if he didn't have positive vibes about it. As he'd said, he ignored her input. It pissed her off, but aside from that, they continued to grow closer. They were talking, cuddling and kissing again. They said 'I love you' often, had sex whenever he could get in the mood, and she occasionally slept over in his bed.

Once, they had a day that could be called lighthearted. Both his afternoon appointments were rescheduled, so he got home hours earlier than expected.

He walked in at 1:00pm. to find Doe at work in the guest room, building the floating bookcase they'd talked about. After explaining why he was home so early, he'd asked, "Want some help?"

"Sure. Grab the brush and stain the boards for me."

He'd taken the brush and opened the container of stain, but before he could start, she'd scolded: "Not on the butternut. The stain's for the pine. Use the polyurethane finish on the butternut. No sane person wants to cover up solid butternut with stain."

On a sudden idea to mess with her, Sullivan had given his most serious look. "We both know I'm not a sane person."

Doe had put her fingers to her lips. "Sorry. I didn't think. I..."

He'd have let her go on squirming, but he couldn't hold his amusement back. A smile broke through, then he started laughing.

Doe had snatched a pillow from the bed and gone for him, laughing as she beat him with it. "You asshole! You actually had me feeling bad."

It was that horsing around they hadn't enjoyed for too long. After letting her beat him some more with the pillow, he snatched it out of her hand, pushed her against the wall and kissed her, leading to a quickie on the spot. His upbeat mood lasted the rest of that day, and he got a decent night's sleep.

The only wrinkle in their relationship during November, happened mid-month. They were finishing up dinner when she brought up the sore subject.

"Still haven't found a facility you're comfortable with?"

He gave her a warning look.

She didn't cower; just gave him a cool look in return. "It's taking longer than it needs to, Sullivan."

"You know why that is."

"I know. But trust me when I say it shouldn't be that way. The sooner you start some kind of treatment, the sooner we'll get on with things."

Things like escaping from you. She wants to go live her life without you. She knows she'll be better off without you around.

Sullivan looked hard at her. "Why are you pushing so hard? Why does it matter this much to you?"

"Your health matters to me."

"I'm the one who has to sit in the chair and get analyzed. Let me do this my own way. I'll find a clinic."

"When? In the year 4022?"

See how eager she is? She can't help herself. She wants you held somewhere so she'll be free of you. She denies it, but she wants to get rid of you. You can't trust her. Look in her eyes and you'll see it.

Sullivan's eyes bored into hers. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you just wanted me out of your hair."

Doe stopped. She didn't say anything for a second, then she spoke in a quieter voice. "You know that's not true."

She's a liar.

"You're a liar."

She didn't move a muscle. Slowly, she held out her hand to him. It was seemingly in appeal, but he knew it was a trick. Did she think he was so stupid that he couldn't see through the act?

"Sullivan, treasure--"

"I said you're a lying fucking cunt." He spat the words at her and swung away. He couldn't stand the sight of her any longer, and damned if he'd listen to any more lies.

He strode to the front door, out of the house and towards the pier.

The brisk pace let off some of his steam. The night air cooled him still more. When he reached the pier, the open sky with its stars and full Beaver Moon, relaxed him the rest of the way.

Sitting on the pier, Sullivan gazed at the sky for an hour straight. He couldn't seem to direct his eyeballs away.

Liars deserved to be called what they were. But...what if someone possibly wasn't a liar but still got called one? Just what if...what if she hadn't completely been lying? In that case, hadn't he been unfair to her?

He pulled his knees up, putting his head in them. He'd hurt her. The thing he never wanted to do.

Shame kept him hunched over for another hour before he started home. It was late by then--well past his self-mandated bedtime--but there was a light burning when he reached the house.

He expected that he'd have to go look for her in the woodshop, but she was sitting on the stairs. She stood as he approached, watching him with careful eyes. He didn't go all the way up to her. He kept distance, as she probably wanted him to.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Her expression didn't change, but she nodded.

"I'll try harder to find a clinic."

She nodded again.

His heart broke. She wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't she saying anything? Had he really blown it this time? Was she really going to leave him now?

This was a constant fear. One of the saddest things to him, was that he was probably more afraid of her than she was of him. Not caring how pathetic it sounded, he asked: "Can I kiss you? Please?"

There was no hesitation. Doe spread her arms.

Sullivan walked into them, squeezing her. He kissed her lips, her face, her hair. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a dick. I love you. I'm sorry..."

She returned his kisses, lips clinging. "It's okay. We're good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She kissed him again. "I'm sure."

They went to his bed together. Neither of them were in the mood for sex, but they cuddled until she fell asleep. Thankfully, the next morning, things seemed back to their new normal.

His difficult moments weren't limited to when he was at home. Work was sometimes a battle too. There, he also didn't always nail it.

His worst workday was in late November. He arrived at an afternoon appointment in Beckers Corners. The site was an old all-brick building being converted to a coffeehouse. It needed to meet rigorous fire safety standards, so it was going to be an involved assessment.

This was fine. The problem was that when he met the property owner, Sullivan instantly got a bad vibe. Everything about the guy was repulsive; the glib way he spoke, the wideness of his smile, and his eyes. His eyes were wrong.

He shouldn't be alive. You know what to do. Take him out. Take one of these bricks and crush his skull. Rid the world of his evil.

Sullivan shook hands with the man, holding his gaze. Yeah, those eyes were bad.

Crush his skull. Do it, you coward. Now.

Sullivan glanced at the nearby pile of bricks.

"Great meeting you Mr. Rafferty," the guy said with his toothy grin. Those eyes were bright. "Where do we begin? I know we've got a lot to get through."

Do it.

Sullivan broke eye contact. If he kept looking the man in the eye, it was possible he might...