Never Going Back Again

28. Compliments

Slipping into bed with his wife, Lindsey watched her breathing pattern---how it shifted from really light to really heavy. In the past since she had Stella, he wondered if that was an increase and decrease in her blood pressure or just the position she would tangle herself in.

Turning off his side lamp, Lindsey sunk into the bed carefully, not really trying to wake up his wife because he knew she would get upset over something---his breathing made her roll her eyes sometimes.

Stevie moved position when she felt him get close to her; her main thing was she didn't want to be touched and though he didn't mean to, she would still get annoyed. In moving over, she found that her brain was counting in her sleep---figuring out what time Stella had been put down because she knew she would have to get up in a few hours to tend to her. "What time is it?" she asked, looking for her clock.

"A little after eleven," Lindsey replied.

"Hm..." she continued to sleep for the night but her deep sleep desire was gone.

"Stevie, can we talk?" he asked, unsure if she would want to, but he really had been wanting to.

Her eyes opened easily since she had been sleeping most of the day---that was the only thing to keep her from drinking when she was stressing. She then let her eyes roam up to look at him.

The light from their bathroom was seeping into their room, giving them a little light to see each other; at least for him to see her because she never looked at him.

"We need to," he added.

She shrugged, kind of gesturing for him to start because she didn't know what to say, nor how to defend herself.

"I get that you're having a hard time," he first stated. "Things are way hard," he widened his eyes to himself, "but it's only getting worse with us not talking. I'm trying to be here for you so we can work things out, but you're not letting me..." he paused.

"I'm trying," she sighed a little as she let her fingers meet her hair to run them through. "I know what's going on..."

"Well, I have a theory and at the same time, I know I'm probably right. I really feel like we need to do something to help you. I'm glad to see that you're not drinking but at the same time, you've been in bed most of the day."

"I know," she agreed. "What's your theory?" she asked, wanting his input.

"To tell you the truth..." he lingered, not knowing if it was the greatest idea. "Months ago, when Dr. Phillips came, I asked her to come and see you. I was worried and so was Kristen and she told me we should get you seen just to evaluate what was going on. Then, you were only having the issue with Stella crying so often because of the falling asleep in arms deal and you were stressed."

"You called her?" she asked, her voice above a whisper.

"I was worried," he honestly stated.

She kind of nodded. "I called her, too, but that was a while ago... The Sunday after Will's party."

"What did you say or what did she say?" he asked, intrigued.

"I know that I'm having problems... I'm struggling really hard and..." she stopped, wiping the tears that were already falling down her face. "I'm having fears I've never had before---I'm mad about stupid things," she shook her head. "I'm tired of drinking already, though I crave them," she shook her head.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked, wanting that information.

"She's got a prescription for me... She hasn't sent it in at all because I don't know if I wanna do that," she bit her bottom lip. "She offered me talk therapy---she's says we're gonna need therapy and overall, it's gonna be a lot of work. She said I should get more help and even with antidepressants, through the months we'll see change but I'll have flare ups."