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“I know about Barbara.” His even tone gave nothing away. Just a statement of fact.
My wife’s death was public record as much as I wished it wasn’t.
I kept my stare blank and held my tongue.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he went on.
That I had something to say to.
“Drop it.”
“When you asked me to come work for Takeback, I looked into you.”
Not surprising. I’d combed through my men’s backgrounds before I’d extended offers. If the others did, they stopped with my service and work history because none of them had known I’d been married until I’d told them.
Leave it to Jack to dig deeper.
“You have to know my sister suffers from depression,” he said.
Of course I knew. I also knew better than to bring up a man’s personal business unless he invited it.
“Cassy’s started in high school. At first my parents didn’t understand the mood swings. They didn’t understand why she was fine then suddenly she couldn’t get out of bed. She was fine, then the simplest of tasks like taking a shower was impossible for her. But I had this aunt that recognized what Cassy was going through and my parents got her help. It took years to find the right combination of medications and therapy to get Cass to a place where she could manage it. And she had dark times. My mom quit her job; watching Cass had become a full-time job. My parents still worry she’ll slip into one of those places and harm herself. Depression never goes away.”
It did when the person finally gave into the thoughts they couldn’t control.
“My point is, Cass had a village around her. My parents had support from family and friends. You didn’t and neither did Barb.”
How the fuck did Jack know that?
Jack answered my unasked question, “I looked into her medical records. I know she got treatment for depression and anxiety when she was a teenager but that stopped in her twenties. She had no prescriptions on file at the time of her death. Did you know she suffered from depression?”
Old anger and hurt welled inside of me. The excuses from her parents. The blame they’d cast. The assholes had refused to acknowledge their part in the travesty. They’d known yet they’d guarded Barb’s mental illness like a state secret. It wouldn’t do for a county representative and an attorney to have a child who wasn’t ‘perfect.’
“You couldn’t help her if you didn’t know.”
The ire I kept locked down had bubbled to the surface. I slammed my laptop shut and stood.
“I was married to the woman for fifteen fucking years, Jack. I dated her for a year before that. I missed it. Every sign. I don’t know if I was so wrapped up in my work or if I’m such a self-absorbed asshole I didn’t see it. But thinking back, the signs were there.”
Fertility treatments and multiple miscarriages hadn’t helped.
“I get how you’d think that but you…are…wrong.”
I was done with this conversation. Done with the pity that always accompanied talking about Barb’s suicide.
“You can tell me that when you come home from work and find your wife hanging in your bedroom. Until then, you don’t know shit.”
Jack’s black eyes glittered with fury before they narrowed.
“You must’ve forgotten who you’re talking to,” he retorted. “If you were going for shock value you missed your mark.”
Fucking hell, Jack was worse than the others. At least none of them pushed when I’d told them I didn’t want to talk about my dead wife.
“Jack—”
“Say you did miss the signs. It’s been twelve years, Wilson. Are you going to spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for something you had no control over?”
“Yes.”
