Picking Up the Pieces

“Have you seen him this morning?”

“Alec? Not yet, why?” Belle Ramsay gave her husband a look he’d become too familiar with. “Again?”

She nodded. “I tried to get him to sit down and eat something but he said he was late for working the two year olds and walked out with half a cup of black coffee. That was five hours ago and he hasn’t had a bite to eat yet.”

Alec’s father noticed that his wife was wringing the kitchen towel in her hands and her chin was trembling. Belle had been overjoyed when Alec had come back a few months ago but now it almost seemed like he was killing himself by inches—she was terrified of losing him. The worst part was that he agreed with her and was just as frightened. “I did speak to him last night like you asked but he just said that he doesn’t have any appetite and refused to discuss it.” He nodded at his wife; this had to stop. “I’ll go talk to him. Again.”

Bill Ramsay walked out to the Stallion barn, looking for his son. Alec still wasn’t getting back to normal and what was worse, he didn’t seem to care; Pam’s death just after Christmas had hit him hard and he was having a great deal of trouble accepting his loss. The trip out west had been his initial reaction when he was in deep shock from the news and while he’d been in the midst of some kind of mental or emotional breakdown. He was a bit better than he was, yes, but he still wasn’t close to being the young man they thought they knew.

“Alec? Are you busy?” The question was asked out of simple good manners and nothing else. Alec was sitting in his office, one leg up on the desk and staring into space. The computer was on, but the horse genealogies on the monitor were ignored. Bill tried to remember the last time he’d seen Alec smile. His trouble with both eating and sleeping were taking a severe toll; he was much too thin, emaciated, his weight now hovering just below a hundred pounds and he always looked exhausted. He seemed to be going though his days by rote, doing his work but not engaging in anything or anyone.

“Clearly I’m not.” Bill sat in the visitor’s chair and they sat in silence for a minute or two, Alec’s attention still sightlessly out the window. “Did you want something, Dad?”

This was difficult but it had to be done. “Your mother and I are concerned about you.” Alec focused on his father’s face as he spoke slowly. “I know it’s difficult, but it’s been months now and…”

“And I still haven’t gotten over Pam’s death; is that it?” He spoke matter of factly, without emotion.

“You may never ‘get over it’ but—Alec, you know that all we want is what’s best for you—you don’t seem to have made any moves towards accepting it. I know that you loved her, that you wanted to marry her and I don’t pretend to completely understand how deeply you’ve been hurt, but we’re worried about you.”

“I know you are.” He put his boot encased foot back on the floor, sighing. “Was that David’s car that came in a little while ago?” David was a long time family friend, a practicing psychiatrist Alec had half expected would show up at some point. Evidently that point was today. His father nodded. “Fine. I’ll speak to him if you want.” There was no reason not to and who knew? It might actually help, not that Alec really cared but if it made his parents feel better…

Bill stood, relieved that Alec hadn’t put up a fight about this or refused to cooperate. In a way it almost seemed like he knew they’d come to this and perhaps David could get through to him somehow. “Thank you, Alec. I’ll send him in.”

Alec mentally shrugged. It didn’t matter to him and maybe David would have some kind of insights that hadn’t occurred to him over the last few months. But even if that were true, it wouldn’t change the simple fact that Pam was dead.

Nothing was going to change that.

He did his work, he made sure he was on time when he was supposed to be somewhere and he rode his races as well as he was able, placing in the money more often then not. He did everything that was asked of him but it was like some part of him, the part that Pam had awakened, the part that allowed him to feel things, had died with her. He was glad that the farm was doing well, but it didn’t matter the way it used to.

When his mother insisted that he eat or get more rest he walked out of the room to avoid an argument. He knew they were all worried, it bothered him that they were upset, but well…he just wished they wouldn’t.

Pam had been the point. Being together, making a home together and eventually raising their own children were what mattered to him. Now he simply didn’t care.

Maybe David would know.

There was a light knock at the opened door, “Alec, may I come in?”

“Hello, David.” He gestured to the guest chair his father had been sitting in a few minutes ago.

The first thing the doctor noticed was how young Alec looked. He was in his early twenties, but he could have easily passed for about fifteen if he’d wanted to. He was a small man, only about five foot five but while he’d always been slightly built, now he looked gaunt, verging on unhealthy. There were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and everything about him, from his expression to his body language spelled out his depression and heartbreak. They were silent at first while David busied himself looking at the various trophies in the glass cabinet along the sidewall. Trophies from the Kentucky Derby, Preakness, Hambletonian, Belmont, Hopeful, the Triple Crown and a dozen other major races, all awarded to Alec as the winning jockey. “’Impressive.”

“Thanks.” Alec was waiting for David to get things started; he was the shrink, Alec was just the patient and wasn’t sure how this was done.

“You know that we’re all concerned about you.”

“Yes.”

“Should we be?”

Alec shrugged, dismissive. “I don’t have any plans to kill myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

David almost smiled. “That’s a good start, I’m glad to hear it.” He sipped the coffee he’d brought out with him from the house, glad that Alec seemed willing to talk. He suspected the young man hadn’t unloaded himself to anyone since the girl had been killed and sent him into this tailspin of grief he was caught in. “Were you thinking about suicide when you left here with the Black?”

Alec paused, not wanting to answer but still knowing that if it was possible to get ‘well’ again, he had to at least try. He recognized his father’s favorite mug in David’s hands. “Yes. No—well, not actually kill myself—I wasn’t going to get a gun or pills or whatever but I did some things that probably should have killed me and if they had, I’d have been fine with it. I didn’t want anything to happen to Black, but I didn’t care…” He stopped and shook his head.

“You didn’t care what happened to you?”

He shook his head. No, he hadn’t cared. “I didn’t think when I left here. I didn’t know what I was doing—literally. I sort of woke up on the road a few hours later with no memory of how I got there or where I was going.”

“You were in shock; you probably know that and it’s a completely normal reaction.” David’s voice was gentle, nonjudgmental.

“Yes.” Alec reconsidered. “It wasn’t that I actually wanted to die, it was more like it simply didn’t matter one way or the other. It was a non-factor.”

“Because you’d lost Pam.”

Alec nodded, unable to speak around his tight throat. It was still too painful to hear it stated like that, as if Pam’s death wasn’t any more important than a cat being hit by a car.

“Grieving is normal, Alec and it’s necessary. You’re simply doing what you have to.” Alec nodded, unable to speak. Yes, he knew that. “I’ve known you since you were three years old and because of that I know how smart you are and, more than that, I know how tough you are. You wouldn’t have been able to survive the things you’ve been through if you weren’t. You wouldn’t have that wall full of trophies and you wouldn’t be where you are professionally and you know that, too, don’t you?”

Alec nodded again.

“And you also know, because I suspect you’ve looked it up, that grieving goes through a series of stages and that it can take three years or longer and at the end of that you still won’t forget, but you’ll probably come to terms with this.”

Alec was silent. Yes, he knew all this.

“You’re hoping I can say some magic words to make it all better, aren’t you?” Alec’s eyes flicked over to David, nothing else moved. “I can’t. There aren’t any magic phrases and I don’t have a magic wand. I wish I did.” He sipped his coffee again and went on. “You’ve been through things which have amazed me. Alec—you amaze me and you have for years. I don’t mean all of this…” He gestured towards the awards but Alec’s eyes stayed on David’s face. “I mean the things you’ve personally overcome; the shipwreck, plane crashes, losing the Black for a while, the pressure you’ve been under for years with big-time racing, the stress of starting this place and making a go of it, putting up with Henry and the press. You seem like you thrive on it and you have since all of this started.” Alec’s eyes were still on David. “I also know that Pam was your pressure valve, she was what—or who—kept you on an even keel.”

“She understood.” Alec eyes dropped to the mouse pad, seeming to study the wrist pad. “She understood the pressure, she understood me. She didn’t try to tell me how lucky I am and all of that. She knew I was close to breaking and she…” He stopped, unable to go on for a moment. David picked up the thread.

“She knew that you miss being able to take a day off or just relax on a beach or simply ride for the fun of it instead of the money. I suspect she also understood why you never let on to Henry or your parents how stressed you were getting by all of this.”

Alec nodded. Yes, she understood that and he didn’t think anyone else really did, not completely. Henry had ridden races fifty years ago but it was a different time and he hadn’t contended with the tremendous press attention Alec did. His parents stayed at the farm and rarely saw him when he was in public or talking with fans or reporters. None of them saw the tension in the jockey rooms or knew what it was like to be the target for every up and coming rider or trainer, just waiting to knock him from the top of the pile.

Pam understood and knew what to say or do to let him forget all of that for a while.

With Pam he was safe. She never asked him for anything he couldn’t give and she made sure that his needs mattered as well. She didn’t have an agenda with him other than for them to be happy together.

And they had loved one another. They were happy together and they both wanted that to last. They’d talked about their future together and they’d made plans both were looking forward to.

“If you’re going to tell me that Pam wouldn’t want me to be like this, that I should think about the happy times or whatever—don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to, I know you’re never going to forget her, Alec. No one wants that any more than you do. She’ll always be a part of you and that’s the way it should be.”

“But…?” Alec knew David was working up to telling him that when he was ready he’d move on, accept Pam’s death and find some nice girl he’d be happy with. He didn’t want to hear it. Not now.

“But you still have your life to live, even if it’s not the one you thought you’d have. Grieving is healthy, killing yourself isn’t.”

“I’m not.” For the first time since he’d come into the barn David got a reaction; it was annoyance, the beginning of anger, but Alec was showing something, he was reacting to something and pushing back.

“Aren’t you? I know what you said before, but isn’t it the same thing? If you don’t live you might as well lie down and give up.”

“I’m not giving up. Sure, I ran at first, when I first found out but I came back. I’m here, I’m racing, I’m working.”

“You’re going through the motions.” David had never heard Alec swear but he thought he caught an obscenity under the boy’s breath, not loud enough to quite make out. Good. He wanted Alec mad enough to face what they were talking about without hiding behind his fear of life without Pam. “No one denies that Pam’s death was tragic; it was. But she’s dead; you’re not and self pity is boring, Alec.”

Alec knew what David was doing. He knew that he was trying to get a rise out of him so there could be some kind of purge of his emotions or something. He got it; he did. But he didn’t want to hear this right now; he didn’t want to hear any of this. He knew all this. None of it changed the fact that Pam was gone and he was alone.

Alec put his hands on the arms of his chair, ready to walk out.

“Were you two going to get married in Paris?” David’s voice had changed; it was soft and gentle again, full of understanding and sympathy.

Alec relaxed slightly, though he was still irritated. “Yes. I mean, we talked about it and she was going to check into the legalities in France. I’d gotten the rings and all of that. If we couldn’t arrange a real ceremony we were just going to marry ourselves and then make it legal when we got back to the US.”

Alec’s parents had suspected as much and warned David. “Did her parents, her family know about this?”

“No one knew.”

“No, I mean, did they know that you and Pam were involved with one another, that you were serious enough to be talking marriage.”

Alec shook his head. “For a while I though Pam had told them, but she hadn’t. She said that she’d talked to her sister about us, but that she’d made her promise not to tell their parents.”

“Why the secrets?”

Alec played with a pen on the desk. “No real reason, I guess. It just seemed easier that way. Neither of us wanted a big wedding—all the bother and expense. We figured that we’d just tell people when we got back and have a party or something for our families and friends.”

“Have you spoken to Pam’s sister?” Alec shook his head. “She knew about you two, she’d probably like to talk with you.”

Alec shook his head again. No. It was too soon; it would hurt too much. He couldn’t, at least not yet.

There was a pause for a several long minutes. “…I understand that you’re having some trouble sleeping—is that getting any better?”

“No.” He paused, hesitating before finally continuing. “I have dreams.”

“Nightmares?” If he was imagining the car wreck, the violence, crashing, the terror of the four girls killed in that car…

“Sometimes but…” That hesitation again. “I dream about Pam, when we were together. I mean …” He trailed off.

“You mean sex?” David’s voice was matter of fact.

Something changed in Alec’s face, he was angry. “No. I mean making love. The sharing and the give and take, the tenderness and …not just sex.” Alec was upset to hear what sounded to him to be a cheapening of what they’d shared together. This part was no one’s business but him and Pam’s and he was sorry he’d said anything about it. The door to that part of his life was slammed shut.

David let this go. He’d miscalculated and Alec had a right to be irritated by his slip. Alec wasn’t the kind of man to use a girl for his own pleasure. He probably hadn’t been with anyone without having feelings for her and that was to his credit. The silence went too long. Alec staring out the window again, anger radiating from him, David regretting his mistake and shifted gears. “I’m sorry Alec, you’re right and that was clumsy of me.” Alec gave him an even look; he was still angry but nodded an acknowledgement of the apology. “I can give you something to help you sleep, that’s easy. Then we’ll work on your sleeping without help.”

“…And then I’ll be better?” David heard the sarcasm in Alec’s voice.

“Probably not, but you’ll be on your way.” That silence descended again. “You do want to get better, don’t you?”

Alec turned his head enough to look at David, his face a mask. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

David didn’t respond to Alec’s bait. “Sometimes it seems easier to embrace the loss
—to let that define you.”

“Meaning that it’s easier to live in the past then to move on with my life? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“At the moment, yes but what you’re going through right now is simply part of grieving, Alec. It’s only been a few months, I’d be worried if it had been a year or two.” David finished his coffee. “Where are the rings?”

“What?”

“The wedding rings you bought—where are they?” Alec slowly opened the top drawer of his desk and took out the small velvet covered box, placing it on the desk within David’s reach. The man opened the box and gave the two simple gold bands a cursory glance, pushing the box back over to Alec’s side of the desk. Alec didn’t say anything, beginning to regret allowing David to speak with at all. Alec was starting to feel like just another one of his patients and he resented being pigeonholed like this. As far as he could see, they weren’t really getting anywhere and everything David said was pretty obvious. Alec turned back to the window again. He was done; he wanted to be left alone again.

“I think the hour is up.”

“We’re not on a clock, Alec.”

“I thought that was standard or do family friends get special treatment?”

David ignored the anger, knowing there’d be nothing gained by responding to it. “I’d like to prescribe you some anti-depressants for a while and get together a couple of times a week, if that’s all right with you, Alec.” The young man was silent again, brooding about what he’d just heard. “Are you uncomfortable with that?”

There was still no answer, just Alec staring out the window again. Finally, Alec spoke, so quietly that David didn’t catch his words at first.

“What was that?”

“Pam was pregnant.” Still facing the field outside, Alec continued. “She was in her second month; she hadn’t been sure when she left for France or she wouldn’t have gone. That was one reason why we were going to elope or something. I only found out about it in a letter a week or so before I was supposed to leave for Paris. She called me and went on about how if I didn’t want it, that was all right because she did and she’d raise it, take care of it and I wouldn’t have to do anything.”

“But you did want it?”

“Of course I did, almost as much as I wanted Pam. We were going to get married and fix up the big apartment over the Training barn to live in. We talked on the phone a lot the week before…before. We, both of us, we both wanted it. She was saying how we’d get it a pony, a small Shetland when it was maybe three or so the baby got used to riding early. That was what her parents did with her, let her go in lead-line pony classes at horse shows.”

Then David better understood the tremendous depth of Alec’s loss. He’d lost more than just Pam—though that was more than enough to knock him into the wings. He’d also lost a child. He’d lost a family and David could see Alec retreating back into the depression that had him captive since Pam’s death. This needed to be met head on or he might never pull himself out of it.

“Alec, when Pam was here at the farm, when she worked here—where did she live?”

Alec seemed slightly startled by the question and answered a bit warily. “In the apartment above the broodmare barn, why?”

“Have you been back up there?”

“…Since…? No.” Alec’s face had gone quiet; his eyes again focused on nothing, retreating back into his own thoughts.

This didn’t surprise David, that Alec would avoid the place where they had likely become close. It was understandable that the memories would be painful but they needed to be faced. “Would you show it to me?”

“Why?” Alec knew exactly why, David wanted to see how he’d react to being up there again.

“Curiosity. Would you mind?” Alec didn’t say anything, just shook his head, which David chose to ignore. “C’mon.”

“No.”

David faced Alec, looked him in the eye. “You need to face this, you need to see that it’s just an apartment. There aren’t any ghosts up there.”

“No.” He looked up when one of the horses out in the stalls down the corridor whinnied louder than usual, followed by the sounds of kicking hooves against wood and more neighing. “That’s enough for now, David.” He stood up, ready to go see what the commotion was about.

“I’ll come back on Wednesday, about ten if that’s good with you. We’ll talk some more.”

“I’ll be in New York. I have to ride a race.”

David checked his blackberry. “Friday?”

“’Leaving for California for three weeks.”

David suppressed a sigh. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Alec, do you still enjoy racing? Given a choice would you still do it?”

“Race riding? Sure, but not forever. I want to train eventually.”

“But with Henry around that can’t happen until he retires, right?” This had to be another frustration for Alec, almost like he’d hit some kind of dead end with his career.

True or not, Alec dismissed it with a simple, “He enjoys it; it’s what keeps him going, I can’t take that away from him.”

Another complication. “Well then, while you’re away you have to make a decision; if you want me to help you get though this—which I would like very much to do—then you have to set aside the time for us to work together. I know you’re busy and that your work demands that you travel, but you’ve got to set your priorities about this.”

Alec nodded and gave him an even look. “If we don’t race we lose the visibility the farm needs to have our studs in demand and to command good prices at the sales. If we have to pay another jock we lose too much purse money to pay our bills and the farm goes under. That’s my priority.”

Period.

“Work comes first? Fine but where do you fit in there?”

“I’m Hopeful Farm’s stable rider, that’s where I fit in. I’m doing my job.”

“For how much longer? You’re going to break, Alec—I’m telling you that as a friend and as someone who cares about you, you have to understand that. You have to resolve what’s happened in you own mind or it will eat you alive even more than it already is.”

“I’ll be all right, David.” He ghosted a smile. “I’m always all right.” There was the sound of a truck arriving out on the main driveway. Alec looked out the window. “Some mares we were expecting are here, I have to deal with them.”

“Alec…?”

“I’ll call you.” And he was out the door.

He walked out to his car, ready to leave when Bill Ramsay came out the kitchen door of the main house. “David? How did it go?”

“I think he’ll come around, but it’s going to be a while.” He opened the car door and climbed in, closing the door behind him. “Just go easy on him, Bill, all right? And get these prescriptions filled, make sure he takes them.” He handed them through the window and put the car in gear. “It’s going to take time.”

9/25/07
 

Return to Simon's