214 Palmer Street(9)
“Of course I’m here,” he said. “Where else would I be?” He stood up and gently kissed her cheek. “I love you, Sarah.”
“Love you too.” Sarah returned his smile, glad to see he looked less distraught than the day before. Despite being ten years older than her, Kirk had a boyish look she’d always found appealing. He had a slender build and was only a few inches taller than herself. His thick brown hair had two modes. It was either combed like a fourth grader on picture day or disheveled from his nervous gesture of running his fingers through it. His glasses were forever sliding down his nose and even when they weren’t, he pushed them upward out of habit. On their first date, he talked too much and too quickly, coming off as nervous and trying to impress her. This, despite owning and successfully running a large business.
Kirk was a contradiction that way. Outwardly confident but inwardly always doubting himself.
Later she found out that his anxiety was real and could be debilitating. He took a prescription medication which would periodically require tweaking. Sarah had never known anyone so troubled or so honest about their fears and worries. At his worst, he didn’t want to get into elevators that were too crowded. During heavy snowfalls he’d asked if she minded driving. During evening thunderstorms he’d sometimes retreat to the bedroom and crawl under their weighted blanket. But he usually returned from his monthly visits to his psychiatrist as if a load had been lifted. And somehow he managed to run the dealership and be a good husband, all the while putting on a good front for everyone else in the world. Only she and his parents were privy to his anxieties. He opened his soul to her, which was no small thing.
Once she asked him to explain how it was to live with depression. He sighed and said, “There are times I can feel it building. Other times, it just arrives unexpected. I wake up and it’s like I’m encased in sadness and my arms are pinned to my sides. Sometimes it takes everything I have to psych myself into doing the simplest things. I really hate being this way.”
His dark moods lifted after Sarah came into his life. His parents noticed it and his mom, Judy, had taken Sarah aside to tell her as much.
Very often Sarah caught Kirk looking at her, regarding her with incredulity. “How did I get so lucky?” he’d say, shaking his head. When he said things like that, she could actually feel his love washing over her like a wave.
There were long stretches where she forgot all about his anxiety, times where nothing bothered him. They talked and laughed and made plans for the future. Being with Kirk was effortless.
Of course, there were times when he became furious over the smallest things. Bird droppings on his car. Employees who didn’t show up on time. Rude drivers. Once during their dating days, they’d been on the expressway heading to a nice restaurant when a pickup truck cut off their car, forcing Kirk to slam on the brakes. In a flash his face darkened in rage. He’d pointed and said, “Someone should kill that guy.” Sarah had been shocked at how her mild-mannered boyfriend had transformed into someone menacing. Just as quickly, though, he calmed down and apologized for his outburst. Sarah told herself that he was entitled to be frustrated on occasion. It happened infrequently and was never aimed at her. To his credit, Kirk claimed it as one of his shortcomings and told her he was working on it. She understood. No one was perfect.
Her sister, Maren, had advised her not to marry him. “His problems will become your problems. There are lots of other guys out there. Find someone else, someone who doesn’t have mental health issues.”
“Everyone has something. Besides, lots of people have depression and manage it just fine.” What she didn’t tell Maren was that she herself had gone for grief counseling after her previous boyfriend’s unexpected death. Maren prided herself on being tough. She’d never have understood. “I actually admire that he acknowledges his depression and anxiety and is facing it head-on.”
Maren had shrugged then. “It’s your life.”
She’d responded, “The heart wants what the heart wants.” Emily Dickinson had said something similar back in her time, and it was as true now as it was then.
The idea of finding another guy was unthinkable. There was no one like Kirk. He was genuine and he really listened when she talked, something she found wasn’t the case with other men she’d dated. When they weren’t together she missed him so profoundly that she physically ached.
If Maren could see Kirk sitting next to her hospital bed right now, his adoration and concern fully on display, she’d understand. A person couldn’t fake that kind of love.
Sarah was eating her hospital breakfast, a cheese omelet with orange juice, when someone rapped on the door. A man’s voice called, “Hello?” and Kirk responded, “Come in.” When she saw it was Gavin Kramer, in his police chief uniform, she gave him a smile.
Kirk got up and gestured to him to take his chair, but Gavin shook his head and stood bedside. “I can’t stay long, but I wanted to see you, Sarah, and assure you that my people are doing everything we can to find whoever did this to you.” Gavin’s dark eyes peered at her intently.
“Thank you.” She set down her fork.
“Natalie sends her love. She’s visiting her mom right now, but I called her as soon as I heard. We’re both devastated and outraged.”
Kirk said, “We appreciate it.” Despite the fact that the two men were the same age, when they stood side by side Kirk looked like his little brother. Gavin’s hair was slicked back, with gray at the temples. He was built like a lumberjack with wide shoulders, big biceps, and massive torso, while Kirk had the slight, wiry build of a man who occasionally went running, but didn’t hit the gym.