Mark, having fought for three years the pain and self-doubt associated with desertion, with not being enough, took comfort from Meredith’s shock at Barbie’s choice.
“The drug is lethally addictive,” he said. “It’s a disease worse than cancer, spreading across this country in higher numbers than any other single illness. And Barbie was dissolving it in her first cup of coffee every morning and I didn’t even know it.” He stopped, remembered back to that final day. He’d been dreaming about Barbie, had gotten out of bed early to come and find her, to tell her how much he loved her, and he’d seen her take a little jewelry-sized plastic bag from the velvet pouch in which she kept the electric knife blades.
“Until the day I saw her do it.”
Meredith sat back in her chair, her eyes filled with compassion, concern, disbelief. The woman was always so…full of emotion. It was overwhelming. And compelling.
“How long had she been using?”
“She wouldn’t say.” She’d done nothing but lie that day and he’d been left wondering how many months, even years, before that had also been filled with lies. “But based on the chunks of money I found missing from a savings account of ours, I’d say it had been at least six months. At close to two thousand dollars every two weeks. You’d think I’d have noticed, wouldn’t you?”
“From what I hear about meth, from the training we get at school, one of the reasons it’s so popular is because it’s hard to tell someone’s a user—until you see the yellowing skin or weight loss. Apparently other than having a lot of energy, people can act pretty normal under the influence.”
Yeah, he had the facts, too. “It gives them the feeling of being in complete control, while the whole time it’s controlling them.”
“It’s what we all want, isn’t it?” Meredith asked quietly, her expression sad. “To be in control.”
Looking at her, Mark found understanding. He found himself unable to turn away. In the midst of this awful night he found a human compassion in her that made it all bearable—an acknowledgment of suffering and tragedy, yet also an affirmation of the worth of going on.
Which was ridiculous considering she hadn’t said anything of the sort.
“What do you want to control?” he asked, honestly curious. She seemed so intent on helping others take control. Mark. Kelsey. Susan. Her students. Their parents.
Her hair spread over the chair behind her as she laid back her head. “Me,” she said, still watching him. “Just me.”
“Control what you say?” Did she feel more shame about the recent upheaval at school than she’d let on? That would make a hell of lot more sense than her stalwart and unrelenting defense of her position.
She shook her head. “Control what I feel.”
Her eyes were troubled and he found himself watching her lips—wanting them to smile.
“That’s not as hard as it might seem,” he said, glad that he had at least one answer for this woman who seemed to have them all. “Just use your head, take the time to think instead of react. Logic will never steer you wrong.”
She did smile, then. With what appeared to be genuine humor. And perhaps a bit of pity mixed in. “Oh, Mark,” she said. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Deep down inside?”
“Of course I do,” he answered without even needing to check deep down inside. This was something he knew.
“The mind is a fabulous thing. But you were given a heart, too, for a very good reason. Your mind is your connection to the world around you. Your heart is your connection to your soul.”
He wasn’t into the woo-woo stuff, but he certainly respected her right to be.
“My wife listened to her heart and look where it got her.”
“That’s not fair, Mark. Your wife used her head—we all do. We all have to. But she used it to make bad choices.”
Maybe. He didn’t think so, though.
“What I know is that Barbie was always an emotional person. Her sensitivity is what drew me to her to begin with. I grew up in a family that was undemonstrative at best. We love each other and express that love with Christmas cards and pictures sent once a year. When I first met Barbie and she wrapped her intensity around me, it was as if I’d finally come alive.”
“Yes,” Meredith said. It seemed as if her entire body nodded in affirmation. “You moved from your head to your heart.”
“And I got wrapped up in an uncontrollable mass that ate itself alive.” He wasn’t going to convince her. He had to speak, all the same. “I don’t trust feelings.” If they were ever going to find a way to work together peacefully, Meredith had to understand and accept this. “With Barbie the emotions took over her life, and while she was happy in the beginning, she was also upset a lot. She couldn’t ever just be.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
He wasn’t finished. “And in my own case, I allowed my love for her to blind me to things my mind should have realized. I believed in her, made excuses for her. She was having an emotional breakdown right before my eyes, she wouldn’t listen to reason, and all I could do was watch our lives fall apart.”
“You think if you’d loved her less you could have saved her?”