Yesterday`s flower - Michelle Tarynne (fun to read TXT) 📗

not looking at her. ‘My parents had this thing – a circle of trust, if you like – so that anything within the family was exactly that, within the family.’

 

Erika remained silent.

‘When  Jared  started  showing  symptoms  of  bipolar  disorder,  my  parents  were

 

 

 

concerned people would treat him differently. Badly. And hiding his illness became a way of life. A habit. When he acted out or became depressed, we protected him. Everyone in a family has a role – the nurturer, the bully, the prima donna, the martyr. I was always the protector, even more so when I lost my parents. I’m still Jared’s protector, even if it means it has hurt you. Though that was never my intention.’

‘But I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you tell me when –’

 

‘When it would have been be er for me if you knew? Come on, Erika. What kind of person demeans someone else to get what he wants? You’re a bright person and you’ve worked it out on your own. Besides, you wouldn’t have respected me for telling you then – it would have seemed too convenient. I don’t think you would have listened to me, even if I had.’

Erika sighed. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

‘I am.’

 

‘But what happens next? Right now he’s probably still comatose in bed. When I tried to talk to him, he just about bit my head off.’

 

Max half-smiled. ‘Oh, yes, the sleeping lion. That’s what my mother used to call him. He’s probably gone off his meds again. He does that sometimes when he’s manic – he feels so invincible he thinks he doesn’t need them. We’ll have to get him back on lithium or he’ll get worse.’

 

Later Erika returned to the flat to find an unmade bed and Jared’s clothes from the previous night dumped unceremoniously on her rocking chair in front of the window. No note. But no other sign of him either.

 

She began to strip off the bedclothes, trying to not to worry about where he’d gone and if he was in a state to drive. Picking up her phone, she dialled his number. Answer, damn it. Answer. Answer. Trying to be optimistic, she wondered if he was feeling a li le be er after a good day’s rest. Maybe this was just a momentary lapse and they were already over it. When the phone went to voicemail she tossed it back into her handbag.

Where was he?

 

She walked to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. But the tannins did not sit well on her unse led stomach. So much for English Breakfast in a crisis, she thought. She stood at the window, staring out towards the Groot Drakenstein Mountains.

Just after six, Erika’s mobile rang loudly in the bedroom.

‘Max!’

‘Erika, he just got back.’

‘Oh, thank God. Where’s he been?’

‘I don’t know. He’s not talking. I’ve called the doc. Are you okay?’

 

She was not. She was confused and anxious. But she said, ‘I’m fine, Max, really. I’m just glad he’s safe and sound. Maybe he can call me later if he’s up to it.’ The unsaid se led between them and Erika could hear Max exhaling. ‘So...’ she tried, ‘I didn’t even ask you earlier about the harvest? How did it go? It must have been running smoothly if you went for a ride?’

 

♥

 

In Jared’s absence over the next few days, and then weeks, Erika took to dropping in at the Blignauts.

She kept her conversation neutral, emotionless, and focused instead on the portrait she

 

 

was doing of Pieter. His face was what one might call ‘lived in’; with every groove came an interplay of light and shade that fascinated her. Pieter seemed unconcerned by her study of him, picking up his tapestry and working on it as though she wasn’t there. Sometimes he’d chat to her, but the conversation was largely one-sided. It didn’t ma er to her; it saved her the effort of being entertaining.

 

She reserved all her energy for her visits to Le Domaine, where she pretended she was full of beans. Max would open the door with a nod or a shake of his head, and with this, she would know. Today was a good day. Today was bad.

 

Though intellectually Erika could take in what was happening, on an emotional level she seemed unable to grasp how Jared could have changed so radically. In under a month, he’d lost more than four kilograms. Over nine pounds! He didn’t want to eat, and much as she’d feared Prudence, Erika now admired her. With a tenacity Erika could scarcely credit, she watched Prudie cook up everything she knew Jared liked and then, with equal determination, sit next to him, trying to tempt it into his mouth. Most days Prudence came away disappointed.

 

‘It’ll pass,’ Max said. ‘It always does. The meds need to kick in.’ The ‘De Villiers blues’ now seemed rather an understatement.

 

‘I’m sorry, Erika,’ Jared said one late morning from the depths of his bed. ‘I’m just all out of happiness right now.’

 

It wasn’t as if Jared was completely unresponsive. He was tired, incredibly so, but on some days she could see a glimmer of his old self. A drive on the quad bikes to Elephant Rock one afternoon brought a smile to his face, and Erika realised that Le Domaine was Jared’s saving grace: the more time he spent outside walking the vineyards, the be er his mood seemed to be.

 

‘I love this place, Erika,’ Jared told her. ‘I may be a useless son of a bitch, but Le Domaine gives me purpose.’

 

‘You’re not useless,’ Erika replied automatically, trying to push the thought away that they hadn’t made love in a month. Perhaps that was the most difficult thing. Not the sex so much as the lack of contact. Jared used to be so tactile, but now he’d withdrawn like a hermit crab into a shell.

 

Yet it wasn’t his fault he was ill. And Max said his doctors were already seeing an improvement.

‘We’ll hang in there, Erika,’ he’d said. ‘And wait for the sunshine to come back.’

 

♥

 

Despite everything, Max remained amazingly calm. How he was managing both Jared’s workload and his own while still supporting his younger brother was beyond Erika. And he never complained. Not once. Well, not about the current situation.

 

One night when she arrived at Le Domaine after the gallery had closed, she found Max in his study, head in his hands. And he wasn’t quick enough to mask the worry in his eyes when she opened the door.

‘What is it?’ Erika asked.

‘Hm?’

‘Come on, I’m not an idiot, Max. What’s going on?’

 

Max sighed, pushing away the pile of post on his desk. ‘Bills, bills and more bills,’ he commented. ‘Sometimes, I don’t know if I can handle Jared be er when he is high on life

 

 

 

or when he is digging his way out of misery.’

Erika took the bank statement from Max, gasping at the totals.

‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘I always thought he was generous, but –’

 

‘But this is just stupid,’ Max finished for her. ‘Funny how we haven’t seen much of his crowd over the last month. They couldn’t stay away in January.’

 

‘To be fair, Max, it’s not as if Jared’s exactly been welcoming. I’m not sure if he even wants to see me.’

 

‘Of course he wants to see you, Erika. He’d be crazy …’ Max looked away, embarrassed.

 

Erika touched his arm. ‘Listen, Max, if you think it would help for me to chat to Heinrich, I will. Maybe he could bring some of Jared’s friends over for a meal or something. It might lift Jared’s spirits.’

And the rallying of friends seemed to work, if only as a temporary cure.

 

Erika pulled out all the stops, hiring a spit roast to cook a Karoo lamb, which she’d heard would be terribly well received. She filled troughs with beer and ice, displayed bo les of wine and, with Prudie’s help, made abundant salads to cater for the vegetarians. There was pap, roasted bu ernut and corn on the cob. However unreliable Jared’s friends seemed to her or Max, they made Jared happy. And for that reason alone she was not going to let her poor planning discourage them from coming.

 

She watched him as he stood outside near the fire, where mealies wrapped in tin foil were cooking in the coals. He was nursing a beer, an intense look of concentration on his face as Heinrich explained something to him. Though he looked gaunt, Jared seemed engaged rather than his recent distant self. He sensed her glance, acknowledging her with a bright smile.

 

Later in the evening, as the sun began to set, Erika felt Jared’s arms around her. ‘I’m going to pull myself right again,’ he promised her.

 

And though she nodded and kissed him, she wondered if it was as simple as he made it sound.

 

♥

 

Jared starting ge ing be er, but remained unpredictable.

 

Erika had grown used to his moodiness – it had always come with the territory – but she was now aware of the extreme melancholy of which he was capable, and she felt as if she were walking across a suspension bridge, with a very long way to fall if she slipped. Would anything she could do or say trigger the depression again? Drinking coffee with Max at Calypso’s, she wondered if she would be able to confide in him. But Max seemed to guess without her saying anything at all.

 

‘You can’t blame yourself,’ he told her. ‘Jared’s responsible for his own emotional life. As long as you love him with everything you can muster, the rest is really up to him.’

 

Erika wondered how hard that was for Max to say. Yet as he sat back in his chair, she noticed he’d adopted a way of talking about her and Jared’s relationship with an incredible objectivity.

 

‘You really are too good to me, Max,’ Erika said. ‘I’m not sure how I would have managed all of this without you.’

 

‘Of course you would have. You’re a tough cookie.’ Max cut a piece of omele e, scooping up the cheese that was glued on the side of the plate. ‘How’s Pieter’s portrait

 

 

 

coming along?’

 

‘Almost done,’ Erika said. ‘I’m tempted to give it to him, but I don’t think he’ll let me. It hasn’t been like some of my other paintings this year. For some reason, I can almost trace my own emotions in his face.’

 

‘Transference,’ Max said. ‘You had to put your feelings somewhere. You’re lucky to have an outlet like that. I’ve tried my hand at fiction once or twice, but I guess I’m just not imaginative enough.’

 

‘Have you thought about what you’ll do now the book is put to bed?’ Erika asked. Max smiled. ‘Well, it’s not as if I can write a sequel. I think I’ll just contribute to the

 

Wine Magazine SA and the Franschhoek Tatler. Try my hand at a wine blog or something.’ ‘When Jared is back on track you’ll have more time for yourself again. Maybe go on

holiday somewhere …?’

‘Trying to get rid of me?’ Max asked.

Erika blushed. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

 

‘Are you going to eat that cucumber?’ Max asked. ‘It’s been si ing there lonely on the side of your plate, and I don’t think you’re giving it the a ention it deserves.’

Erika laughed, handing Max her plate. ‘I hate cucumber,’ she said.

‘I know,’ Max said, smiling at her. ‘I’ve noticed.’