Chapter 11 - Mike's Mood Swings When Evie Left

According to Boy: Under normal circumstances, I did not suffer from mood swings. When I would have a particularly bad day in school, I might get a little bummed out, but I would just work a little harder to make up for it. I called it "work therapy." Sometimes I would put on my running shoes, and run a hard five or even ten miles. I would run until my body hurt so badly that I forgot what was bothering me. That’s how I handled my anger the day I left my camera in a taxi—I went out and ran about a dozen miles, with engineer boots on. I was in such pain afterward that I forgot all my other problems.


During the days and weeks leading up to one of Evie’s visits I would be in the best of moods. My anticipation was like a high. I tried to consider every possible problem that could occur, and make contingency plans. I would ask myself questions such as these: "What if it rains? What if she doesn’t want to go to a play? What if she doesn’t like Italian? What if they don’t let us register at the hotel?" There were always a hundred bad things that could happen for every good thing. I felt like I must consider them all, at least those I could think of.

I would always meet her at the airport. And I was always on time. When possible, I would try to get registered at the hotel before I met her. My thinking was that if I was already signed in, no clerical error could waylay us. I would have a bottle of wine ready, and chilled. If she was hungry, I would have a place in mind that I knew she would like. It might not have seemed so orchestrated, but I did my best to have everything covered.
Part of that planning included improvisation. If one of us had a good idea about something to do, we would easily slip into it and change the set plan. It was more fun that way. But that did not change the fact that the overall plan was still in effect; it was just that it allowed for changes. Sometimes we would get caught up watching Johnny Carson, and take a pass on walking Times Square at midnight. I guess you could call it rigid flexibility.

We both would have a great time every time she would visit. We absolutely never had a disagreement. That is, not until it came time to take her back to the airport. Then, just as we started counting down the hours, and then the minutes, I became a different person. It was terrible. I hated to see myself get that way, but I did. I could not help it. I would always find something to crab around about. Evie never initiated it—she was nice no matter what. But I changed.

I knew what the problem was—I had spent so much time and energy anticipating her visit, and I had such a great time with her, I could not bear the thought that she was leaving. It killed me to think that within the next few hours I would no longer be able to hold her, and taste her sweet mouth. It drove me nuts.

I never touched her in anger. In fact, in the forty plus years we have been married, I have never physically struck out against her. It is just not in my nature to do such a thing. But I was really rotten to her when she was getting ready to leave me alone in New York.

I tried and tried to work on it, but I never mastered my disappointment. Thank God she did not give up on me before we got married. Once she moved out to New York for good, I don’t recall ever again experiencing those manic/depressive symptoms.

I could never really relate to what Shakespeare intended when he wrote that "parting is such sweet sorrow." To me, there was nothing sweet about it. It was more like post-partum depression.