The Odd Gift

I started taking depression medication, Zio came, and E and I were reborn.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Julia. I hope she’s ok... I hope she’s happy, and that somehow our time together was of some benefit to her. But mostly, I think about her because meeting her changed my life; every day is a reminder that she existed. I’ve long ago forgotten the details of what she looked like, what her voice sounded like, the subjects of the long conversations we had, or the derogatory pet names we had for each other (I think she used to call me “rasscunt”). I think of her because my life is a daily reminder that she existed in it.

Julia caused three things to happen, all ironic given that she was essentially someone I had cheated on my wife with.

1. She convinced me I was suffering from depression and to take medication for it. I remember her saying, “I don’t give a fuck what anybody tells you. You’re depressed and it sounds like you always have been. I know you don’t want to take drugs, but do you want to stay the way you are? You’ve tried willing it away for years and it hasn’t helped at all. If taking drugs can help make your life better, why not try it? What do you have to lose?” She had started taking lexapro and it helped her get through many of the same anxieties and daily oppressive feelings I had. I asked my doctor to write me a prescription. For a number of (sexual related) reasons, I switched to Wellbutrin. It changed my life. I don’t know what damage it may be causing my brain, but frankly I don’t care. In Julia’s words (as well as I remember them) “if it can help you live 30 good years and then die from a fucking brain tumor, isn’t that better than 50 years dealing with that shit storm in your brain?” She was right.

2. She helped give Zio to us. E and I started entering a short renaissance in our relationship when the girls began getting a little older. We went out more, had more fun together, and our sex life improved. One night, we had a condom mishap, and a month later, E realized she was pregnant. I was devastated. I fell apart. I didn’t want to go back to where we were. Things were finally getting good for the first time in a long time and that was thanks in part to the girls getting older starting to free us from the burden of having a small child. E was driven to a decision to have an abortion, coerced by my horrible attitude, actions, and very visible near mental breakdown. But her pending sacrifice tormented me. I will never forget E and I going away for our anniversary just before she was scheduled to have the pill administered. It was a melancholy weekend. She had nightmares about hearing a baby drowning and not being able to find it. I was tormented by those demons as well. The morning of the procedure came. E left me at home with the girls to go to Planned Parenthood. E was numb - moving like a robot going through a program. I immediately started texting Julia. I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do. Nobody knew except her. I was alone with my thoughts and so was E (at least, as far as I know). I don’t remember the exact chain of events, but at some point Julia told me she thought the whole thing was wrong, that she knew E didn’t want to do it and that I was forcing her, which was terrible, that I was terrible, to wake the fuck up, and that I myself was having such serious doubts I needed to stop it. I remember her saying “if you have to lock your fucking kids in their bedroom and speed over there to stop her, do it right now. GO YOU FUCKING IDIOT STOP TALKING TO ME! Do it! Stop this from happening!” In hindsight, I think in many ways I was in shock and I don’t remember much, but I started frantically texting E to stop, to come home, to not do it, that we would work it out, that we would have a baby and be OK just like we always were. E never responded to any of my texts. I still remember her pulling into the driveway and I didn’t know whether she had taken the pill or not. I remember desperately hoping and praying that she hadn’t, because I knew it would destroy her - destroy us and our beautiful family. I remember her falling onto me, crying, and mumbling something that I at first thought was “I did it” but then realized was “I couldn’t do it.” I don’t know if it was my texts or E’s decision alone, but I see Zio and I remember Julia and how she said that I needed to get the fuck down there and stop it. Part of me feels like she helped give us that beautiful little boy. My beautiful, beautiful son. My beautiful boy with wonky eyes and crooked teeth from banging his mouth. My beautiful little boy who wants me to tell him all the people who love him before I put him in bed and sing "I love you  a bushel and a peck" and rub his coarse, blonde hair. My beautiful boy who loves trucks and tools and fire engines. (Remembering this makes me miss the way Julia used to talk to me. She was so blunt.)

3. E and I were re-born. This is the more intangible result. E found out about Julia at the tail end of a great few days in Phoenix together: first visiting a boutique hotel I was working on, and then a friend’s wedding. E was so much fun: my lover, my friend, the person I deamed about. The night of the wedding, while I was downstairs playing pool in the hotel lobby with one of our friends, she picked up my phone to email herself a few photos from the night and she found out about Julia. E let loose on me, pounded my face, came in and out of the hotel room all night going between anger, confusion, sadness. All completely understandable. The next day we took a trek together with friends, we held hands, we kissed. The following day, when we left, we were on fire for each other. We wanted to be together. I wanted her, she wanted me. We were torn open, bare, with nothing to lose. I was broken down to nothing and fully exposed, with no reason to hide or be fake to this woman I loved and wanted to continue my life with.

So I will always remember Julia. I sometimes hope I will run into her so I can say hello, tell her everything is good, and see in her eyes that it’s all good with her too. I want her happiness because I cared about her, and I still do. I also want to say, “hey, this is totally fucked up and in that sense par for the course of whatever that was that we had, but thank you for what you’ve given me. I needed a friend and even though I did things wrong, I’m happy you came into my life when you did, and I hope I also had some positive impact on you.”