Chapter 34 Sobering Reality
When Byron came out into the breakfast room the next day, bleary and exhausted, his mom was there sipping coffee and eating a croissant. He decided to have the same. His hangover seemed to have hit a reset button on his mood, the physical discomfort making it easier to ignore the mental suffering.
“I’m glad you’re finally eating something,” his mother observed. “I could kill that Christine Tourneau for putting you through this! But soon it will be all right. She’ll know not to mess with our company.”
Byron remembered the conversation from last night. He hadn’t been as drunk as his mother might have imagined. It was his dire mood that had made him lethargic and unable to connect with people.
“Have you gone ahead with the announcement yet?” he asked. “About me being depressed?”
“Not yet. Emily insisted that you should truly be on board.”
“I don’t want to do it,” he said firmly, “It would make me look weak.”
“How long can you go on not admitting that you have a problem?” his mother exclaimed, “It’s not good for you or anyone!”
“Sorry I was acting like a jerk yesterday,” he said a bit sheepishly. He recalled being dismissive of his mom, his best friend, and Emily.
“It’s all right,” Sylvia said, “I know you’re not yourself when you get like that. Maybe you better speak to your girlfriend, though.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered.
“Whatever,” Sylvia rolled her eyes. “You two deserve each other. You’re both making it much more complicated than it needs to be.”
“What would I do without my mother explaining my own life to me?” Byron said with a slight smile.
“Oh, shut up,” she replied, giving him a smack on the head with a sheaf of papers.
Byron went into his home office to call Emily.
When he heard her voice answering the phone, it brought out some sort of primal passionate feeling.
“Hi,” he said, getting straight to the point, “I was very uncouth last night. I hope you can forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Emily said, “You were not feeling well.”
He had a feeling she would be patient with his moods. Unlike some previous girlfriends, Emily didn’t try too hard to cheer him up when it was obviously impossible, and she didn’t get offended when he said stupid things. She knew that he never meant to hurt her feelings. Of course, she had her limits. Byron suspected she wouldn’t be so understanding in the long run since she was already urging him to get therapy.
“Well, it was good of you to keep me company anyway,” he said.
“I couldn’t stay overnight because I needed to check on my brother. He tends to hole up in his room and compose his songs for 24 hours straight. You wouldn’t think a kid from a stable, middle-class family could become so obsessed with gangster rap.”
Byron chuckled. “Makes perfect sense. He’s probably bored with being middle class.”
“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” Emily said, her voice warm and pleasant. “So you’re feeling better?”
“I think so. Seeing you definitely helped, even if I didn’t show it at the time. You could be my anti-depression weapon.”
“Byron... you can’t rely on me all the time.” He sensed that she was still upset about his refusal to get treatment. “Have you thought about the event and going public with your condition?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do it,” he said, “It’s going to make me come across like some kind of sissy: ‘Oh, I’m sad. Everyone, feel sorry for me.’”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Emily said passionately. “Your message is going to be that you support everyone else who suffers from depression. That doesn’t make you weak. And it’s going to do so much good for other people.”
“You have a heart of gold,” Byron said sincerely. He could never cease being amazed at her concern for him and even for people she didn’t know.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Emily joked, “I don’t want to lose my reputation as a bad*ss.”
“No one who has met you has any doubts that you’re a bad*ss,” Byron replied. “And you’ve given me something to think about. Let me get back to you about this.”
Byron tried to gather his chaotic thoughts. He heard the dog walker coming back with Rupert, then Sylvia’s voice saying, “get away, you filthy animal,” and the sound of claws against the office door, so he emerged from the room and petted his loyal companion.
He doubted there was anything to be done about his depression. It came and went throughout his life, never really getting resolved. He knew Emily wanted to believe it was possible for him to recover because she cared so strongly, but at the same time it would be cruel to give her false hope.
