Hurricane Acer. Sydney Blondell
Chapter One
Today my daughter turns three. The day began just as it always does—I picked out Alison’s outfit for the day and tried to avoid him at all costs. Alison’s birthday party starts at noon at her favorite knock-off Chuck-E-Cheese in our town. There are about three hours before the party, so I took advantage of this time and completed the last-minute errands for the party and printed directions to the party location for out of town guests. Around eleven, a group of us piled into the car and made our way over to the party. I left Alison back at the house with her godmother, who would bring her to the party right at noon. In the meantime, I needed to set up the Dragon Tales decorations and placed the vanilla cake with pink and purple candles in front of the gift table.
It was finally noon when Alison waddled into the building to find all of our family members and her dance friends standing under a sign that read “Happy 3rd Birthday, Alison.” The party was filled with laughter and celebration. We went on every slide or ride available to her age range, and I watched her as she followed all of her older cousins around wishing one day she could be just like them. She was so excited to go home and play with all of her new toys, so when we walked in the door, that is precisely what she did. The adults who accompanied us back to the house sat in the living room sipping a glass of red wine and listened to three-year-old bliss.
About an hour after we arrived home, Alison somehow enraged her father, and he began yelling. No one in the house knew what set him off, the only thing we did know was he was yelling, and he was yelling at a three-year-old. I, very calmly, stood up and said, “I cannot do this anymore.”
He took a break from screaming to turn his attention over to me to reply, “Can’t do what?”
“I cannot do THIS, Paul. I cannot have you screaming at our three-year-old because you don't dare to stand up to me or because she did something a normal child her age does,” I said. “You have ten days to figure out where you can go, but as of February 7th, you need to be out of this house.”
I did not wait for a response. Instead, I grabbed Alison from the living room, and we left to go to my sister, Renee's house. I only live about five minutes away from Renee, so it is an easy escape for me when situations escalate to a point of no return. Once we arrived, Alison went upstairs to play with my niece, Rose, and I told Renee everything that happened. Renee was in complete shock that it escalated to that point, especially since we just had a lovely day celebrating Alison’s birthday, but she was also happy that I was finally going to feel happiness again.
The following week was tranquil. Paul did not speak to me, and I did not talk to him. We would leave notes in the kitchen to let each other know about our schedules for the day so the other would know who had to let our dog out. But then, Tuesday came. I was at work when I received a phone call from Paul’s mother. I was only on the phone for twenty seconds. All she said before abruptly hanging up was Paul is in the ICU, and I needed to come as fast as possible.
I rushed around my office, grabbing my items so I could leave and go to the hospital when my boss walked in and said, “You’re not leaving. You’re divorcing him, so what does it matter if he is in the ICU?”
“Are you kidding me? He is still the father of my child. I am going. Fire me if you want, but I am going to the hospital,” I responded in anger.
When I arrived at the hospital, Paul’s parents were already sitting in the lobby waiting for me. They informed me Paul had attempted suicide and was in critical condition. I called my mother, who lived three hours away in Pennsylvania, and she rushed as fast as she could to drive to Maryland. My mother and brother-in-law went to the house where the suicide attempt happened to clean up so that Alison and I did not see anything when returning home later in the evening. The attempt occurred in the attic, and his rope of choice was our dog’s leash. There were marks on the wall next to the steps leading up to the second floor of the house that could not easily be covered up in a day. The marks appeared when the EMTs took Paul to the ambulance by Gurnee. My brother-in-law inspected the rest of the house, where he found disturbing drawings whose creator had the artistic ability of a four-year-old with a dark mind.
Back at the hospital, Paul’s parents decided that now is a perfect time to talk about the separation between Paul and me.
“So when Paul comes home, do you want to go to a marriage counselor?” Carole my mother-in-law, asked.
“Home, what home? We are still separating,” I replied.
“You are seriously going to go through with this after he nearly died?” Carole snapped back.
“Um yes, this confirms how unstable he is. I don’t want Alison around this negativity her entire childhood!” I fired back, as both our anger levels reached its maximum.
“Well if you are set on divorcing our son, you better not think we are going to pay your bills,” Andrew, my father-in-law, chimed in.
“First of all, I have never asked either of you to pay for our bills. Secondly, I am an Assistant District Attorney, and your deadbeat son fixes air conditioners for a living. His income is chump change in our household. Do you honestly think losing his income is going to make a difference?” I fired at Andrew.
Just as the argument was hitting its boiling point, Renee arrived with an iced hazelnut coffee and a Tastykake Peanut Butter Kandy Kake snack pack because she knew I had not eaten all day. Renee and I have always been good at calming each other down, so Renee arrived at the perfect moment to pull me back and remind me that they are mean, cold-hearted people and want to get under my skin. Once I was done telling Renee the details I had up until this point, Paul’s doctor came out and wanted to talk to Carole, Andrew, and me. The doctor took us into a private room and told us that Paul nearly succeeded at taking his life. If Paul hadn’t called the police to tell them his suicidal plans, he would have died within five minutes of hanging himself. The EMTs arrived in three minutes and twenty-three seconds.
The doctor told us that Paul is in a coma, and still in critical condition. He also warned us that it may be a while before Paul wakes up, but he does not see any reason why that will not happen. He then gave the “okay” for family to go in and see Paul. I went in first and felt as if I was looking at a dead man. He was very gray and, well, to put it simply, looked deceased. I had to leave his room not long after walking in because I was overwhelmed and overcome with emotion, so I went back to the nurses' station to call my Mom again and check on how the house was. She told me she cleaned up as much as possible, and not to worry about the house. After I hung up with my Mom, I called Alison’s babysitter to check on how she was doing and see if she was asking questions about why she was staying longer today than usual.
“Hey. How is Alison doing?” I asked as Alison’s babysitter answered the phone.
“She’s fine. She hasn’t asked any questions other than when she was going home,” she responded.
“Good. I am glad she is not stressing out too much. If it is okay with you, I am going to need to leave her with you for an undetermined amount of time. If you can’t watch her through the night, I can have my Mom or brother-in-law come and pick her up.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous. I’d be happy to have Alison. Day or night, call and you can come and pick her up.”
“Thank you so much. That alleviates some stress for me. I will call you as soon as I have more information on when I will be coming home.”
“Okay, I will talk to you soon. And I will tell Alison you say hello.”
Once I hung up with Alison’s babysitter, I went back to the waiting room to sit with Renee. She stayed with me the entire time and distracted me when I began to think about how deceased Paul looked. Around one in the morning, a therapist came out wanting to confer with his parents and me.
“Mrs. Acer? May I have a word with you and your in-laws?” the therapist asked.
“Of course. Is Paul still out of the critical state?” I asked.
“Oh, ma’am, I don’t have any information regarding your husband’s medical needs. I am here to discuss life after a suicide attempt when he is released