To the Point of Shatter

7. Abby

        I have agreed to this more because I can't bear the brokeness in Aiden's eyes when he looks at me than for any other reason. Despite the promise I made and the emotions spent yesterday, I feel myself spiralling back to not caring. I am still unsure about not pulling the trigger. And when I finally admit this to Dr Hirsch, it seals my fate. I agree to go not to save myself, but to save Aiden. Instead of killing myself, I realize I am slowly killing him.

        They don't let him come with me into the intake office so we are forced to part at the lobby desk. He takes me into his arms and whispers comforting words in my ear. He kisses my face and hands my bag to the orderly standing by.

        "Tell Ava I love her. Every day," I ask of him.

        "I will. I'll call you later."

        "No phone calls for the first 24 hours, then it's an earned privilege," the nurse pipes up. Aiden is taken aback. He blinks at her.

        "But she's my wife."

        "She's your wife who needs to concentrate on herself right now. You can call any time and speak to the staff. But we have to know she's READY before she can speak to you." Well, this clearly flusters him but it's a little bit of a relief for me. He gets it together and hugs me one more time.

        "I love you, A. Just get better."

        I don't tell him I love him and later I will regret this. But for now, I simply allow myself to be led away, Aiden standing helplessly at the desk. I don't even look back. I fear if I do, I won't be able to leave him.

        Inside, there are questions and forms to fill out. They take my vitals and search my bag. I feel exposed when they do this but Aiden has done a pretty good job packing. The only thing they confiscate is a picture frame, because of the glass and sharp edges, assuring me it will be returned when I go home. The picture is of the three of us that Chloe took, the same one that hangs in the living room in a 5x7 size. I take the photo and tuck it in my bag. It just hurts too much to look at Aiden's naked love right now. I have failed him on every level. And now, though I ache for him, I can't have him. Not like this. Not when I am a ticking bomb threatening to blow us all apart.

        I am led down a hallway through two locked doors to what is labeled B Wing. When we enter, several people look up. There is a great room with chairs and a sofa facing a television mounted high on the wall. Behind the chairs is a locked door that leads to a patio. There, I can see several people sitting at a concrete table smoking with what looks like a staff member in street clothes, badge on, keys in hand, watching them. To the right is a high U-shaped desk with a wall of locked cabinets behind it. There are four large tables like the ones found in school cafeterias, with chairs and a locked refrigerator. There are rooms that branch off from this dining area with beds and wooden dressers. No mirrors, I notice. There are two bathrooms, one each for men and women. I am vaguely surprised that it is co-ed here. But I suppose separating the sexes is small potatoes- the things on the minds of these patients are darker than simple sex.

        All of this I take in as I am walking from the door to the desk. There is a man behind the counter- short curly black hair, gold rimmed glasses, maybe 40ish. He's wearing a chambray shirt open over a plain white tshirt, jeans, a badge that reads "Oakwood Center" with his picture and the name Manny. He is Hispanic but his accent is faint. He looks up from the paperwork he has in front of him.

        "Manny, this is Abigail Dempsey," the nurse introduces, handing over a folder. He smiles genuinely, warmly.

        "Ah, Abigail. Welcome. We've been expecting you."