Midday Clouds - The Charlie Swan Story

Chapter 19 (New Moon 8/30)

"Well, Charlie, do you think that maybe you've exhausted all of your options for having her here?" 

Dr. Thompson was always to the point, something that I'd come to appreciate in people and therapists alike. "We've been at this for months, and if you aren't willing to try bringing her in to see me, then I don't know what other options she has. I know that it's tough, Charlie, but it might be for the best."

I'd dreaded that we'd end up here. I think knowing that it was coming added even more to the anxiety of its inevitability.

"You know, as much as I hate to admit it, you might be right, doc," I conceded. "She's clearly not doing well here. Too much reminding her of Edward. I hate to see her go, but sending her off to Renee might be for the best."

"Well, I'm not telling you to ship her off without a second thought, but at least open up that conversation. It could do a world of good."

Rosemary Thompson was a wise woman, there was no denying that, and she had been so even before the weathered lines and grey hairs of age had given her the stereotypical look of a small town therapist. She'd had just as much insight all those years ago, when I'd finally dragged myself off of the couch to go see her after losing Renee, Bella, and, eventually, my parents.

"Now, this must have some impact on your own emotional wellbeing, Charlie, given the obvious parallels to the event with Renee. How do you think Bella leaving would affect you in the weeks and months afterwards?"

I knew she was asking if I thought I might spiral again. Like I had when I was 22, and like I'd begun to do nearly a year ago now, when Bella had run off back to Arizona.

"Well, it definitely won't be easy," I confided. "But I think I'll be able to handle it, as sad as it is. If I know it'll help her, I'd be... Well I'd be willing to see her leave again, if that's what it would take."

"You know, Charlie. I just want to say how proud I am of you, both as your therapist and as your friend. I know that none of this has been easy for you, with Bella being back, but the man I see before me today is so much stronger, so much more emotionally mature than the young man who first came to see me all those years ago. Kudos to you. Emotional and mental health takes strength and constant work, and I can tell that you've been keeping that work up ever since your first session." Dr. Thompson put down her pen and paper, looking me square in the eyes. It was clear that the message was coming from my friend, Rose, rather than my doctor. I wiped away a tear as it trickled down my cheek and into my mustache.

"Thanks, Rose. That means a lot. But really, putting in the work is all I can do these days. I'll talk to Bella tomorrow. Hopefully it'll spark some change for the better. Who knows."

Standing up, I went to shake her hand as I usually would, but she pulled me into a heartfelt embrace.

"Kids are tough, Charlie, but you're doing better than you think you are. I promise you that."

—

It had been a long, slow, painful blur of months since the Cullens left and Bella'd gotten lost in the woods.

It was as though she'd left something back amongst the deep darkness of the trees – some essence of her that hadn't returned with Sam. She seemed like a shell of who she'd been. I'd tried talking to her, and the words she'd respond with were empty, hollow, like she was somehow on autopilot. She turned down any invite shot her way to go camping, or fishing, or even to grab some ice cream at what used to be her favorite shop in all of Forks.

She instead spent her days at school, or work, or, if she was home, just sitting in her room, staring out the window as the seasons changed and the months passed. For someone who had been so worried about the steady march of time mere months ago, she sure was just watching it tick by, day after day.

And as painful as it was to watch her wallow in such misery during the day, it was even worse at night.

"EDWAAAARD NOOOOOOO!" She'd wake up, screaming. Night after night. Jolting me awake just as though she were a newborn again, wailing for food, or warmth, or love. And just as I'd done all those years ago, I'd quickly jump from my bed – or, more often than not, the couch – and rush to her side. She'd usually calmed down by the time I arrived, and for a fleeting moment it was as though the old Bella was still in there somewhere. She'd fold into my arms, sob against my shoulder, and tell me that she was sorry to wake me.

"It's okay, Bells. I'm here. I'll always be here for you," is all I'd say back, and she'd eventually drift back into a hopefully less terrifying dream.

It worried me, of course, to think what horrors her ex-boyfriend may have subjected her to that would warrant such nightmares, but I was also glad that he was well and truly gone from her life. She could start to heal, now. She could start to rebuild, just as I had done all those long years ago.

Depression is the nameless, faceless horror that we all unconsciously fear when we stare into the void of night. Its gravity pulls you into a black hole of despair, dulling all colours, contracting all light, until you can't even remember that a bright world had once existed, let alone foster any hope that it could again, someday.

It killed me to see my own daughter fall so deeply and darkly into the abyss, because it had once consumed me whole, all those long years ago.

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