Beautiful Surrender(3)
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, continuing to rub his back to soothe him. “I didn’t know.”
He brightened unexpectedly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past.” He touched my cheek and kissed me. “I know I have a short fuse sometimes but I’m working on it. And you make me want to be better.”
***
“Are you taking your medications?” I asked Marty. We were sitting in a secluded alcove of the Houghton library trying to study.
He had another bad episode recently when he punched a second hole in his wall because a professor criticized a point in one of his essays. The first hole had only been patched two months ago. We’d done it together with some do-it-yourself spackle from a nearby hardware store.
During that time, I’d recommended that he should see a therapist. He was reluctant at first but I finally convinced him to do it. After a few sessions, they told him he had borderline personality disorder, which meant his emotions were amplified and he was very impulsive. He could switch from extreme elation to extreme anger or depression quickly. All from a small trigger—slight criticism, a misunderstanding, etc.
His condition was both good and bad. The times he was happy, he was really happy, which made him the best person in the world to be around. He could brighten your day even if you had just attended a funeral that morning. That was part of the reason girls—and even some men—were attracted to him like moths to a flame. He just had that kind of energy.
But the times he was unhappy, he was awful to be around. It was like a black cloud loomed over his head, tainting everything around him. He would rant and rave, exhibit bitterness, paranoia, and sometimes become physically violent—but he had never hurt me. I had a hard time believing such a wonderful person could become so terrible so quickly. It made me nervous that he could switch between the two extremes in a heartbeat.
Dr. Perkins had prescribed him medication that he was to take regularly. It was supposed to regulate his mood fluctuations. Make him more balanced like the average person. Less volatile.
“No. I can’t think straight when I’m on them. I have to write this paper that’s due tomorrow.”
I felt extremely frustrated. “Do you care about me Marty?”
“Kristen, I care about you more than anything else. You know that.”
“Yeah, Marty. I know. But you understand how it affects me when you don’t take your meds right? It makes me scared.” Tears began welling in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry, but it was so frustrating not being able to get through to him. He needed help and I felt helpless in aiding him.
“Shh, shh.” He put his arms around my shoulders and rubbed my arm up and down. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I’ll take them.”
I wiped tears from my face with my hand. “Are you going to your sessions?”
“Yeah I am . . . just not in the past few weeks.”
“You need to go to your sessions,” I said, trying my best not to sound like I was nagging.
“I know, but Dr. Perkins is a dolt. She doesn’t understand me. I’m not getting much from talking with her.”
“She’s supposed to be one of the best therapists on the east coast for treating your condition. Please, Marty. Won’t you do it for me?”
He took a deep breath then relaxed his shoulders. “Okay. I’ll do it for you.”
***
I’d just gotten back to my dorm room from a party to find Marty sitting on my bed waiting for me, his mouth a thin line. His apartment was further away from campus than my room so we’d been spending a lot of time at my place. It made sense for him to carry my extra key.
The first words out of his mouth were an accusation. “You don’t care about me Kristen.”
I didn’t take to that greeting well. “I do, Marty. Damn it. I do.”
“Then why did you go to that party when you knew it would only make me jealous?”
“God. I just went with some girls. They were nice enough to invite me. It’s not like I have a lot of other friends here. I invited you but you said you had too much work to do.”
“I know. I just hate the thought of other guys making a move on you. You’re so beautiful. It drives me nuts to think you’d leave me for someone better. Someone more handsome and charming.”
“I’d never cheat on you Marty. You have to trust me.”
He grumbled then softened his voice. “I do trust you.”
***
It was spring break and I didn’t really want to go home to see my parents so I went to Marty’s instead. He’d said they had a large house and his parents would be excited to meet me. His dad, Charles Pritchard, was a founding partner at one of the most prestigious law firms on the east coast so his family was financially very well off. It’d been a week since I arrived at the Pritchard household located on the outskirts of Boston and things weren’t quite what I expected.