My therapy day was near. And I have still not told anybody about my depression. I promised both my doctor and therapist that I would come with my accomplice the next time. But I've still not found one, or rather been reluctant to find one.
But I've decided to talk to him. Not because I need him to support me. But because he's the only person who I can burden without feeling guilty about it.
- But wouldn't that give him hints about us conceding to him. He may take it as me backing off from the divorce decision.
I shook my head at my thoughts. He's a namesake husband who holds my responsibility until we formally divorce. It is only right for him to know about my ailments atleast. And I will still not stop asking for divorce.
The day he signs on those papers, he'd have nothing to do with me or my depression.
I stood up from the bed and went downstairs. Today was a Sunday, and my next session on therapy is on Tuesday. The house was filled with men of different shape and size, dressed in black because his majesty was at home.
When some of them noticed me, they maintained a disciplined stance. What!? Am I your school principal?
I rolled my eyes and observed everybody, as they greeted me. The guys in the inner circle smiled at me, but others were stoic as a statue.
"Hello tuxedo men! I am your shrewd bosses' wife, and the names Aubrey. Please loosen up before me. I understand your boss is a crackhead who pays you all to become robots. But I am not one of those kinds."
Some of them pursed their lips tight, while some looked behind me.
I turned only to find the pig standing there in all his glory.
- So we got caught bitching about him.
"Mr. Husband! I was searching for you..", I said happily but he knew how 'happy' I was looking at him.
He raised his brow, "You? Searching me? Are the pigs flying?"
I chuckled and whispered, "No! Because one is standing before me."
He glared at me although I made sure his employees don't hear me.
Moments later, he shook his head, "What were you searching me for?"
"I need to talk to you."
His eyes lit up like never before. Man! Why does he look so excited?
And then soon enough I see his eyes narrowing at me and he came closer.
"I hope it is not about more arguments to support our divorce."
I had more arguments. I have them in my store. But I am not going to talk about them. Not Right now.
I shook my head, "Something else."
He nodded, and then turned to face Damon who was standing near the threshold of the hall.
"Damon, get my meeting postponed for evening and tell the maids to serve our lunch on the 2nd floor balcony."
2nd floor balcony? That has the best view of this house, facing the lake.
"We are not having a lunch date! And you can go attend your meeting. We will talk after you come back."
He chuckled, "No. Never. Who knows if you change your mind by the evening! We'll talk right now."
And then he extended his hand signalling me to walk with him. I rolled my eyes and walked ahead of him.
"Don't call my bipolar!"
"I'd rather call you multipolar. But it's nice visiting so many poles in a day."
*
Our food was being served. It was cold here, but the sun was dimly shining. The heat of the sun was comforting my skin and I sighed as I sat on a ottoman and felt him take a seat just beside me.
"There is so much more place to sit Alexander."
"I like it better here."
We fell into a calming silence then. Sometimes, somedays the problems clouding us are huge. We have so many hard situations to make sense of. But to sense that someone is sitting beside you is comforting, even if you do not take or give much.
"You should call me Alex...or like you once called me Xander, when I came to your house with my parents for lunch. Alexander is too big.."
I leaned back and turned my face to see him. His head acting as a shield to the direct view of sun.
"I call you Pig these days. It's the shortest name you can get."
I saw a hint of a smile on his face, "That should offend me but I know you can do worse."
I nodded, "I am glad you know my capabilities. You are smart.", I complimented.
We both fell quiet for a few more moments when he broke the silence again, "What was it that you wanted to talk about?"
I looked into his eyes and he was looking straight at mine. Was I doing the right thing?
Just as I was about to speak, Gabby came and announced that our food was served.
We went to the small round table near the pool and he pulled the chair for me.
"Media is not here...", I pointed.
He raised his finger up above, "Satellites."
Oh god! This man! He has the answer to everything.
Gabby smiled cheekily and served our food.
"Enjoy your meal now.", With that she left us alone.
"Now Mrs. Wife. Tell me what you wanted to.", His excitement irked me.
"I am not going to propose you. Why are you so happy?"
He smiled, "You are willing to talk to me, that in itself is a huge progress.". Leaning forward, he picked up his fork and took some pasta from my plate making me scowl. I covered my plate with my hands.
"Don't touch my food you cheap monkey!"
"You can have mine...I don't mind.", He forwarded his plate to the middle of the table.
I rolled my eyes, "We are not going to act like a doting husband and wife just because I asked you to talk."
He nodded, "We will act like a cat and mouse instead.."
"Better still."
"Now tell me... whatever you wanted to."
My heart started beating loud at that. I hope I am not making a mistake. But even if I am, I should atleast try hard enough. And if he wouldn't want to do anything with my treatment, it is still better that I inform someone. My health is vulnerable. What if I faint somewhere, or may be a panic attack at the wrong place. I'll atleast have someone to call an ambulance for me.
"Hey!!", He waved a hand before me, "Where are you lost Aubrey?"
I looked at him, and took a deep breath, "I am depressed."
He nodded a little confused at that, "Depressed about what..."
I looked at him bored, "I am talking about Depression. I am in depression. My doctor diagnosed that three weeks ago."
The spoon that was on the way to his mouth halted midway. He kept it down and pushed the plate away.
"Au... Aubrey....Wha...What are you saying?"
Looking at the shock and bewilderment on his face, I felt the ill feeling clouding me. Telling about depression was way harder than sulking about it myself. I looked away not wanting to sympathy or shit in his eyes.
Soon enough, I heard him standing up from his seat and coming to me. He turned my chair away from the table and crouched down before me.
"You...you can't just say something like this Aubrey. Depression is not a joke."
"I so wish I was joking. But I am not. I have been declared as a depressed person... You must have thought about me as being mentally ill with how I behave with you!? Don't you? Guess what?", I chuckled humourlessly, "I am mentally i..."
"Shut up! Just shut up..."
He stood up and covered his face with his hands. I saw him engrossed deep in thoughts.
"...this was why you had a panic attack in London. And then that fatigue....Wait!", he turned to me with a mad expression, "What are those pills you take!?!?"
"Sleeping pills and for anxiety..."
"And who all know about it? What do they say? I guess we should look for the best doctor available and he'd treat you gently with no..."
I interrupted, "No one knows other than my doctor and therapist."
His eyes popped out and he looked at me incredously, "You said you were diagnosed 3 weeks ago and you haven't told anybody?? You know how harmful it is?? To sulk alone in this condition!!"
He was now full on bellowing at me. And I had no energy to shout back. Also, I understood this is his concern speaking.
I looked down for a moment and then gathered my courage to stand up.
"I have no one if you have forgotten that fact. Courteney is the closest but she's also pregnant. I am telling this to you...only so you know that cause of my death...if I die for that matter of fact.", Joking at the end, I simply left the 2nd floor, coming back to my room with all those paintings.
My latest painting was fully dried and I only had to sign my name on one corner. Somedays I wish to sell my paintings. It would be nice earning money out of them. But each one tells a story. My story. I am connected to every painting in this room. How can I let these beauties go away. The max I can do is make a museum of mine and display them there. Probably tell my story through them. But who would want to hear the story of the girl with tragic past, dead parents, unloving partner and deadly depression. I guess they'll be better here in this room.
I picked up my paint pallette and dipped a thin brush in the white colour. Just as I was going to touch the painting my other hand was pulled in other direction making me gasp loudly.
And soon enough, I felt a pair of warm arms around me, and myself being pulled into a hard chest. My paint pallette was still in my hand. The brush making strokes on everything we found in this small journey of hands.
"I am sorry! I am so sorry Aubrey..."
My heart sped up at an unusual pace.
"...I..I hate myself for staying away from you for two years...and...and causing you this...this is all because of me."
I was still. This was the first time this guy has blocked all my senses. Not with the hug. Not with his words. But by the pain in his voice.