Her Darkest Road (Roughneck #4) (3 page)

Chapter 5

The next morning, we sat in the doctor’s office, waiting for them to call Belinda’s name. I had called them as soon as they opened, and pleaded with them to see her right away. I tried to explain our situation as best as I could, and they accommodated us, thankfully. The hour and a half drive to the specialist didn’t matter.

Belinda seemed to be struggling with filling out the paperwork. She told me before that she had done poorly in school. It was understandable. She had bounced between her mother and foster care her entire childhood. I didn’t understand the way the system worked, and she was already out of it by the time we met. But the after effects lingered, obviously.

“Do you want me to help you?” I whispered as I tried to look at the paperwork.

“No.” she snapped, and turned her body away from me. I knew she was pissed at me for dragging her here. But I didn’t care. We needed to figure this out. Luckily, our neighbor, Betty Smith, was more than happy to watch Samantha for us during the appointment. She loved spending time with Samantha, and always got onto us for not letting her babysit more often. She was an empty nester and her husband spent most of his time at the fishing hole, so she loved every chance she could get with the baby. Besides, I needed to focus on getting Belinda the help she needed.

My work pager started to buzz and I pulled it out of my pocket.

318-911

“I need to go find a payphone real quick and call the rig,” I whispered to Belinda.

“K” she replied, without looking up.

I walked into the hallway and spotted a payphone on the left. I dropped a quarter in and dialed the number.

“318, this is Jack.”

“Hey boss, I got your page.”

“Just making sure you were coming in tonight. We’re short-handed, and I need you,” he said sternly.

“Yes, sir, I’ll be there,” I said quickly. I couldn’t take the chance of losing my job. I had worked too hard to get where I was, I didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Alright then,” he said, and then I heard the phone click as he hung up.

I hung the phone up and walked quickly back to the waiting area. But it was empty. Belinda wasn’t there, so I walked up to the glass window.

“Ma’am?” I whispered quietly to the young girl sitting on the other side of the window.

“Yes sir?” she replied as she slid the glass open.

“Um, my wife, Belinda Montgomery, did she already go back to see the doctor?” I asked.

“Yes, sir, she did,” she replied with a sad smile.

“Can I go back there, please?” I asked, standing up straight.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“No?” I asked, confused.

“Mrs. Montgomery specifically requested that no one come with her,” she said as she looked at the file in front of her.

“But I’m her husband,” I said, trying to keep my voice quiet, but feeling like I was about to lose my temper. I needed to be back there with her. I needed to know what the doctor thought, where we go from here. Damn it, this was my life, too.

“I’m sorry, sir. We have to respect the patient’s wishes,” she said as the phone started to ring.

“Excuse me,” she said quietly as she slid the glass door closed.

Son of a bitch. Why wouldn’t she want me with her? I knew she was mad about coming, but I’m her husband. This wasn’t right.

So I sat, and I waited.

I waited for two hours, and nothing. Other patients came and went, and I didn’t hear a word. I finally went to the front desk again.

“I’m just checking on my wife,” I said quietly to the young girl in front of me.

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give out any information.”

“Listen, Giovanna,” I said as I read her nametag. “I just need to know what’s going on with my wife.”

“Sir, it’s against the law to reveal information against the patient’s requests,” she said quietly. I could tell she was uncomfortable, but I didn’t care.

“I understand that, but I’ve been sitting here for two hours. I just need to know what’s going on. My wife is having a lot of issues, and I need to make sure she is ok and find out what to do. Please,” I pleaded.

“Just one second,” Giovanna said, and she stood and went around the wall of files until she was out of my sight.

A few minutes later, an older woman in scrubs opened the door next to the patient area.

“Mr. Montgomery?” she said quietly, with a file in her hand.

“Yes,” I said.

“Will you come with me please?” she asked.

I nodded and followed her through the door, into the first room on the left. She shut the door behind us.

“Please sit down,” she said.

“Where’s my wife?” I asked, and remained standing.

“As you’ve been told, we aren’t able to release any patient information,” she said.

“I heard,” I said. But I didn’t understand why Belinda was shutting me out. I just wanted to help her.

“But she did agree to let you know that she has entered a treatment facility. Besides, you are the primary carrier on the insurance, so this is something you would find out anyway,” she said, so impersonally. Didn’t she realize this was my life, too?

“A treatment facility? What’s wrong with her? Treatment for what?” I started spitting out questions, one right after the other.

“Mr. Montgomery, I can’t give you the details. I’m sorry. But it’s a 90-day treatment plan. Again, that’s something you could find out from the insurance company with a phone call, so this conversation is not out of bounds,” she said. She was covering her ass, but still trying to help me, and I appreciated it.

“90 days?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“But you can’t tell me what she’s in there for?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, but I can give you pamphlets, they give you information on the different disorders that we deal with in this facility,” she said with a weak smile, and handed me a stack of brochures. I didn’t even glance at them as I took them from her hands. I needed to get out of here. This was too much. I couldn’t look at them with her watching me.

“Where exactly is the treatment center?” I asked.

“Your insurance company can give you that information, for billing purposes,” she said as she walked back over to the door and opened it.

“I’m sorry that I can’t help you more, Mr. Montgomery,” she said, and patted me softly on the back.

“Thank you,” I said without looking back, and walked out of the office. I didn’t let my eyes glance at the pamphlets until I was sitting in my truck. I took a deep breath and pried my hand open, trying to straighten the wrinkled papers. A wave of nausea rolled over me as I stared down at the words.

SCHIZOPHRENIA

BIPOLAR DISORDER

MAJOR DEPRESSION

PERSONALITY DISORDER

Chapter 6

Once I pulled into my driveway, I had to sit for a minute and try to compose myself. I had to keep my shit together. I had a little girl to worry about. I had a job to keep. I had a wife in a fucking mental hospital.

“Shit,” I whispered as I popped my knuckles, they were sore from gripping the steering wheel so hard during the drive. I let out a loud exhale and opened the door, shoving the pamphlets in my back pocket before heading inside.

“Betty?” I said when I opened the front door, and didn’t see either one of them.

“Coming, dear,” Betty whispered as she came out of Samantha’s room. She was a tiny woman with short black hair. There were silver streaks throughout, and her laugh lines were prominent. She always joked about how old she was starting to look, but her lines gave her character. It showed how happy she was, she was always smiling. I was thankful to have her and Steve as our neighbors since we moved in. Even though, for us, a neighbor was still across the pasture, it was good to have them close.

“How’s my angel?” I said as I looked around.

“I just put her down for an afternoon nap,” she said, and then locked her eyes on me.

“Joe, honey, are you ok? Where’s Belinda?” she asked, her face full of concern.

I exhaled loudly as I sat on the couch, resting my face in my hands, unsure how I was going to explain our situation.

“What is it?” she asked as she sat beside me, and patted my knee gently.

“Belinda has been having some issues,” I said.

“Mmhmm,” she replied as she rubbed her hands together, nervously.

“I’m not really sure what’s going on with her, but she’s going into a treatment facility for 90 days,” I said, bluntly. I didn’t know what else to tell her.

“Is it alcohol?” she asked, cautiously.

“I think it’s more than that,” I said quietly, staring at the floor. “But why would you think that?” I asked.

“I stop by every evening to check on the baby,” she admitted.

“I didn’t know that,” I said as I looked up, and stared at her. She looked nervous, and I knew she had more to say.

“I didn’t figure Belinda ever mentioned it to you,” she said.

“No,” I whispered, and shook my head.

“I had a feeling something was going on with her, Joe. I knew it wasn’t my business, but I wanted to make sure Samantha was ok,” she said.

“What did you see?” I asked, hoping for more insight and feeling guilty that I didn’t have my own.

“I would smell alcohol on her sometimes, but the whispering is what really worried me.  She would always talk to herself. And sometimes when I came, she would want to know who sent me. I just thought it was the alcohol talking.  I wanted to come to you. But then sometimes she would be the sweet Belinda that I love, and I would think I was reading too much into her behavior. I’m sorry, honey, I should have said something. But I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“It’s not your fault, Betty,” I said as I rubbed my fingertips against my temples. “It’s something I should have tried to figure out sooner. I knew she had struggled with depression, but I just started noticing her talking to herself recently, she was always so quiet around me. I didn’t realize she was drinking before a couple of days ago. God, if something had happened to Samantha, I would never forgive myself.” I exhaled, trying to keep those thoughts from entering my mind. My baby. I had to keep her safe, no matter what.

“Don’t blame yourself, honey, you’re doing the best you can. I know your line of work can’t be easy.” She tried to reassure me.

“Still,” I muttered.

“Stop it, now,” she said with a snap of her finger, and I looked at her, giving her a little smile.

“You need to get some rest before work,” she said, and pointed to my room.

“Shit, work,” I said. What the hell was I going to do?

“Listen, you get some rest. I’ll stay and take care of the baby when she wakes up. She can stay with Steve and I tonight, and you can get her when you come home in the morning.”

“I don’t want to put you out any more than I already have,” I said. I hated asking for favors, but I was in a bind.

“Oh, you hush,” she said with a grin. “I love taking care of Samantha. I’m bored to death these days! Steve is always fishing, and I can only clean the house so much. It would give me something to do. Let me do this, Joe. I’ll even make that husband of mine get the new crib out of the garage.”

“Why do you have a crib?” I asked. They didn’t have grandkids, yet. Their oldest daughter was married, but focused on her career, and their son was destined to be a bachelor.

“One of them kids better give me grandbabies, soon. I’m just getting ready,” she said as she patted my knee, and walked towards Samantha’s room.

“Go on, get some rest,” she said over her shoulder as she walked into Samantha’s room.

I did as I was told, because I was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to disagree with her. I knew Samantha was in good hands with Betty. Once I lay down on the bed, I stared at Belinda’s pillow. How did this happen? How did we get here? I couldn’t understand why she didn’t want my help and why she was determined to shut me out. We were happy once. We did everything together. I remembered the way she used to look at me with that beautiful smile, her blue eyes bright. And her laugh, damn that laugh, just hearing it made my heart swell. But it had been a long time since I heard it. She didn’t laugh anymore, or even smile.
But everything seemed to go downhill so fast. I had to get that back. She deserved it, and so did Samantha. I wouldn’t give up on her, or my family. I couldn’t.

Chapter 7

3 weeks later

I held the white envelope in my hand as I sat on the front porch. Samantha was taking her afternoon nap, so I had gone to check the mail. It was my daily routine after my four hours of sleep I managed to get every morning. Betty wouldn’t hear of letting me get Samantha as soon as I got off work. She demanded I get a few hours each day and I needed it, so that’s what I did. But as soon as my alarm went off, I would get to my baby girl as quick as I could. Her smiling face was all I needed. I was working on getting a day schedule, and it was looking up. I didn’t like being away from home, away from Samantha, so much. She loved Betty, and I was thankful for her help, but I wanted her to know the stability of her home, her room and her father. Her mother too, but trying to wrap my head around that situation was getting harder by the day, every day, since Belinda was gone.

“Belinda,” I mumbled as I stared at her name across the corner of the envelope. I had found out the name of the hospital she was in through the insurance company, but they hadn’t been much help. It was against their policy to allow patients to make or accept phone calls, but they assured me she is allowed to write letters. So I waited.

I exhaled loudly as I pried the envelope open and unfolded the single sheet of paper.

Joe,

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for who I am. I’m sorry for what I put you through. I really want to be who you need and I hope that I can be. I wasn’t trying to hurt you by doing this without you. But it’s what I needed to do. I was scared.

They have me on lots of medications and I feel different. I finally have a little peace. I hope it lasts.

I know you must be wondering what is wrong with me. The doctors here said I have paranoid schizophrenia and severe depression. They said that it’s not my fault. They tell me that with the right medicines, I can live a happy life. I hope they’re right because that’s what I want, happiness. The people are nice here, the doctors are nice. But I miss you. I miss Samantha.

Please remember that I’ve always loved you, from the moment I saw you. You rescued me from a life of pain and I can never repay you for that. Please don’t give up on me. I promise to do my best to get well. I don’t want to be sick.

I love you

Bells

“Paranoid Schizophrenia” I said as I stared at the blue ink, screaming those two words at me.

Two hours later, I sat at the local library, bouncing Samantha on my lap as she chewed on a toy, flipping through the ‘S’ encyclopedia, hoping to find some answers.

My stomach knotted up as soon as I saw the word again. Paranoid Schizophrenia. I started to read the paragraphs, and each sentence made the knot grow larger.

Psychotic Disorder. Hallucinations. Voices. Delusions. Altered perception of reality. Depression. Suspiciousness.

Samantha chose that moment to pull herself up on my lap and plant slobbery kisses on me. Either that, or she was trying to bite me because of her teething, it was hard to tell these days.

“Oh, I love those angel kisses,” I whispered to Samantha as she gave me a grin, then put both of her hands on my cheeks and pushed her nose against mine.

I couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at her affection. I loved her innocence. She had no idea the hell that was going on around her. And that was the way I wanted it. I wanted to shelter her from anything that might make her little life less than perfect.  I had to make sure that Belinda got better. I had to. For the sake of our daughter, I had to.

I walked to the front desk and asked the librarian to make copies of the pages, so I could take them home and read them closer. She glanced down at the marked pages, then looked at me. She darted her eyes back and forth between me and the baby. I continued to feel her stare as I turned my attention to Samantha. I wasn’t going to offer her any information, no matter how long she stared. Is this how it would be? People staring and full of questions if they found out about Belinda. Damn it. I pulled the dollar bills out of my front pocket for the copies, and put them on the counter.

“The copies, please,” I said firmly.

My words must have snapped her out of her trance, because she turned around quickly and walked to the copy machine.

When she returned, she had a sad smile on her face. That was another thing I didn’t want, people feeling sorry for us. I was a man, I could handle this. I would take care of what was mine. Period.

“Thank you,” I said as I grabbed the papers out of her hand, and quickly walked out of the library.