Perfection

by Gianni Holmes

  Jeanine had cautioned me that the six weeks weren’t meant to cure me. It was to center me and equip me with the tools necessary to fight the self-doubt and handle the bad days.

  I didn’t feel equipped.

  I could feel it in my bones that I was going to fail. I was going to disappoint Callum again and even worse.

  I’d come to have expectations of myself. Expectations to do better. To live better. I was so used to expectations leading to disappointment. How could I not disappoint?

  I made myself go back to bed instead of staring in the mirror. Jeanine said the change was inside. That was the change that mattered, but how could I know the change was there when I looked the same?

  Sleep didn’t come easily. My mind was too active, contriving a million things that could go wrong when I left the center next week. I’d come to rely on Jeanine for practical advice. How was I supposed to complete my transformation without her?

  When sleep eventually came, it was plagued with nightmares, but they were different this time. They weren’t of the crash but of me. Failing. Failing Callum. Failing my mother. Failing myself.

  Dawn broke, and I was still in bed, sluggish and not wanting to see anyone. I stayed past the hour I usually took breakfast. The center endorsed healthy eating habits, which meant a reasonable eating hour and absolutely no meal skipping. I couldn’t bear the thought of food, though. What I longed for was a cup of Callum’s coffee brewed specially for me, poured into a cup with five hearts, not four.

  Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as I clutched the sheet over my head. What the hell was wrong with me? Everything had been so good. The therapy sessions were amazing. The exercises I took part in daily helped me to find the missing pieces in my life.

  I was so enthusiastic about returning to Battersea to set my plans into motion, and now that the moment was almost here, I wanted to rewind time.

  It was too insufficient.

  I was still a wreck.

  There was still so much I didn’t know.

  I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because I was jerked awake by a loud, persistent knocking on my door.

  “Go away!” I pulled the pillow over my head. I wasn’t in the mood for company. I just wanted to wallow for the day. To wait until this mood passed and I was back to the happy me again. Before the night came and my insecurities with it when I was alone.

  “Ashton, it’s me. Please open the door.”

  Mom? Shit, I’d forgotten Jeanine had planned a session between us. She hadn’t given me the exact date Mother would come, but I’d known it would be this week, since it was my last.

  I dragged my feet to the door. This was the worst day for Mother to be here. Why couldn’t she have come on one of the days when everything was going right? Instead, she had shown up on one of my rare off days.

  I cracked the door open and peered out at her. As usual, she was dressed to the nines in a brown leather pencil skirt, knee-high boots, and a light brown jacket over a yellow top. Julia Keyes’s image screamed money, and she wasn’t about to let the world forget it.

  “Mom? What are you doing here?”

  She frowned, sweeping my appearance, and I instantly felt small under her judgmental gaze. This was when she’d attack me with words.

  “I came to see how you were doing,” she replied. “Rough night?”

  Rough night? That was all she had to say? Nothing about me fucking with my routine today and spending all day in bed? I didn’t even know what time it was.

  “What time is it?”

  She glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. “It’s after one. May I come in?”

  “Um, sure.”

  Still not understanding what she was doing there, I let her into the room. It was quite spacious. Even without the kitchen, it was bigger than Callum’s apartment, and I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

  I would’ve loved a personal kitchen, though. I didn’t have a television either. I used the sitting area to practice yoga alone when I was outside the group sessions. And I sat on the small balcony for meditation.

  My face flamed when Mother stopped at my affirmation wall. I assumed all the bedrooms had one. A large whiteboard on which we could write affirmative posts, or we could print them out and attach to the board. I’d felt better handwriting mine, even in my barely legible scrawl.

  Once more, I waited for the criticism to come.

  “Is it helping?” she asked, turning back to me.

  I hesitated while I thought about her question. Other than my freak-out last night, I’d found every activity I’d engaged in helpful. I especially appreciated that they were practical. Too many times people had asked me to be better and to do better without showing me how.

  “I think so. It’s not all a magic fix, and yes, it was a rough night.”

  “Jeanine wanted to get you herself, but I asked her to let me.”

  “Why?”

  “I just wanted to be the one to check up on you. No one has seen you all morning.”

  “I know she invited you to one of the sessions, but I can’t believe you actually came.”

  That was more shocking than Jeanine asking her to visit. Long before my father died, my mother had been very involved in the business. After he died, she became even more incensed to take over and fill his shoes. I never expected her to give up a day to sit with me in my counseling session.

  I wasn’t six anymore.

  “I get the impression you didn’t believe me when I told you I’m here for you,” she said. “But I understand how hard it is for you to trust me, given everything. I’m just asking you to allow me to be there for you.”

  The earlier queasiness hit me in the stomach, and I had to swallow the nausea that rose in my throat. If my mother was here, it meant Jeanine had decided it was time to work through being open with my mother about the night Jake and my father died. I didn’t know if I was ready.

  “I need a moment.” I glanced away at the hurt reflected in her eyes. “Can you let Jeanine know I’ll be there shortly? I just need to shower and get dressed.”

  She nodded and backed up toward the door. “Okay. Take all the time you need.”

  When she was gone, I rushed to the bathroom and dry-heaved. There was nothing left to come up. The feeling passed, and I climbed into the shower, not taking as long as I would’ve liked. Maybe in the past, I wouldn’t have cared if I kept someone waiting, but I should respect Jeanine’s time. She didn’t work with only me but also other guests at the recovery center.

  “I have control over my life,” I affirmed with my eyes closed while the water cascaded over my naked frame. “I forgive and love myself for all the wrongs I have done.”

  That one took some time for me to say and even longer to believe, but with each utterance, I felt more confident in the words.

  I have courage and discipline.

  I made it through the shower and picked out my clothes carefully. I pulled on a comfortable pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. The AC in Jeanine’s office always left me feeling cold.

  I am gentle with myself through recovery.

  After brushing my hair, I stopped at the kitchen and apologized to the chef for sleeping in. Monty nodded his understanding and gave me a banana to tide me over until the next meal was prepared. I assured him I’d be there to help him, then hurried along the corridor to Jeanine’s office.

  I take responsibility for my life.

  Each step I took to Jeanine’s office spiked my anxiety. By the time I got to her door, I was a nervous wreck. My relationship with my mother was so tentative. If she learned about what I’d done that night, how would she perceive me? Wouldn’t this tear down what we’d just started to build together?

  Nothing will have control over me.

  And that included my fear of what was to come. I knocked on the door once, and at Jeanine’s summon to enter, I did just that. Mother sat on my favorite couch in my corner. Everything was already changing with her presence, and I had the mos
t horrible feeling that things would only get worse.

  I create my own reality. One day at a time.

  “Ashton, it’s good to see you again.”

  Jeanine smiled at me. She always smiled and made me feel welcome. I’d expected her to be tired of how often we saw each other. She had nothing for me but a welcoming office and a listening ear.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I mumbled, wringing my hands.

  She nodded and gestured for me to take a seat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited your mother for this particular session, since we’ve already talked about it. I think being in the same room and listening to each other’s views may give us all fresh insight that will be beneficial when you walk out of here.”

  There she went again mentioning the very short future when I’d have to be on my own with all this newfound knowledge.

  I am getting healthier every day.

  “Ash?”

  I startled. She was waiting for me to take a seat. I ignored my favorite couch and sat on the one next to hers, so I didn’t have to look directly at her.

  “All right, your mother and I started without you,” Jeanine said. “I want you to be at ease, Ashton. Remember this a nonjudgmental zone.”

  Except my mother was here, and she was kind of judgy.

  “This is still all about you,” my therapist continued. “And although I feel bringing your mother here was the right call, it’s up to you if she stays in this session or not.”

  My health is my priority.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Awesome, you’re doing great, but so you know, you control what happens today. You determine how far we go and where we stop.”

  I nodded, already knowing that I trusted her too much not to go with whatever she said.

  “Good, now why don’t you start by telling us about your night, Ash?”

  “It was—” I bit off the lie I automatically started to latch onto, fully aware of Mother listening silently. No more lies. Nothing but the truth. “It was horrible.”

  “Why? You had a good day yesterday.”

  “But we talked about preparing me to face the world on my own.”

  “Ah, you’re anxious about leaving?”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to do this on my own.”

  “But you won’t be alone, Ash.” She smiled at me. “I’ll always be a phone call away. You also have your mother and Callum. Your driver and the maid. They all care about you.”

  “I guess.”

  “You don’t guess, Ash. You know.”

  She continued asking me questions about the night I had for me to pin down the extent of my fears. We went through why my routine, which I’d neglected this morning, was important and how food nourished not only the body but also the brain, which was responsible for us functioning.

  “And this is exactly why I’m not sure if I’m ready to go yet,” I said. “I made a mess of everything last night and today.”

  “You have the tools to deal with these feelings when they arise. What could you have done differently last night?”

  “Journaled, yoga, meditation, recite my affirmations.”

  “They are important for you to use.” She picked up a book from on the coffee table and laid it into her lap. “But maybe most importantly, on days when you fail to use these tools, when you slip up, and you will slip up because it’s human nature, you need to forgive yourself and move on. Sobriety is always in the present. Not in the past. Not in the future.”

  Talking to her made me feel so much better until she focused her attention on my mother.

  “Now there’s a matter that’s integral to you leaving us fully capable, Ash. Do you have something you want to share with your mother?”

  For the most part, Mother had only listened to the conversation I had with Jeanine. But now she sat up straighter and glanced from me to Jeanine.

  “Remember, I can only advise you of what I believe you should do, Ashton,” the therapist said. “But you control whether or not you go into the details.”

  I had no desire to revisit the night of the accident. I’d relived it so many times. I’d recounted the incident to Louis, to Callum, and to the therapist. My mother might not take it so well.

  “Ashton?” Mother said.

  I scratched at my brow. “Mother, I’m sorry, but I was the reason Dad and Jake were on the road that night. They came to pick me up, and when they did, the car spun out of control.”

  This was it.

  There was no turning back now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Callum

  “Man, don’t think I didn’t see the extra mustard you got today.”

  Dane’s face went red at my observation, and I laughed at his obvious discomfort. The coffee shop was just ahead, and we’d had another nice lunch together at the park. We went there once a week now at Dane’s request.

  I needed food and adult company, so I indulged him. I had Phil, but he had his wife and kids, so he technically didn’t really count. He couldn’t keep me entertained and my mind off the fact that Ashton’s time at the center was up, and he still hadn’t been in touch.

  “It’s just a mustard pack,” he grumbled under his breath.

  I punched his arm playfully. “Yeah, one that everyone else has to pay for, but you always get it free.”

  “That’s because I trade in my ketchup for the mustard.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Another reason we went to the food truck to buy lunch was Dane’s obvious crush on the tattooed truck driver with the too-long hair always covered by a hairnet. Hairnets were not attractive, but apparently Dane had a thing for them.

  Or maybe he had a thing for the man behind the hairnet.

  “Besides, he doesn’t even notice me.”

  The whine in his voice gave away how much he wanted to be noticed. We’d grown close as friends, and I placed an arm casually around his shoulders in support.

  “I think he does, but you’re both pussyfooting around it.”

  He snorted. “Pussyfooting. That’s such a funny word.”

  “Come on, Dane, grow up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re cool, man. Just ask him out already. Or I’ll do it for you the next time we go to the park if you’re still being a chicken.”

  He slapped away my arm and walked ahead of me. “In that case, it was nice having lunch with you. I think today will be the last one.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not. You like the food truck owner’s buns too much. And I don’t mean the bread bun either.”

  “Have you always been this corny?”

  I laughed at his observation. I wished I could say I sat all day pining over Ashton, but I tried not to. There was no guarantee of what our future would be like. I had no idea if he’d even still want to be with me.

  In one of his videos he made for Mario, he’d talked about how his therapist believed he had a problem with codependency and was relying too much on me to stabilize his emotions.

  A part of me wanted him to need me, and that was bad. So bad. He wasn’t the only one with problems, and I’d been learning how to let go. How not to become engrossed in someone so much that they became my gravity.

  If Ashton and I planned to ever resuscitate our relationship, it had to be healthy for both of us. Healthy enough for me to have friends and for him to have his. Healthy enough for me to be his Daddy but not his therapist.

  “Say, have you still not heard from Ashton?” Dane asked.

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets as we approached the coffee shop.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Isn’t his time up?”

  “Yes, but who knows?”

  “The videos stopped?”

  On one of our lunch dates, I’d told him about the videos Ashton sent Mario. Not the content of them of course. It turned out Dane was confused at the reason Ashton forged such a connection with Mario. I didn’t necessarily understand it fully either, bu
t he seemed to enjoy being there for the damaged boy, and I just wanted both of them to be happy.

  “Yes, they stopped.”

  “So he’s left therapy, then.”

  “I don’t know, Dane. I’m trying not to analyze it. Just let whatever happens happens.”

  “Jesus, man, you don’t have to pretend that you’re not hurting too over this. You’ve been so solid since he left.”

  “I just don’t know what to expect when he returns. If he returns.”

  Just outside the coffee shop, Dane gave me a hug, patting my back. It was short and needed. He never judged my relationship with Ashton. Never told me I should let things go and find someone else. Never pushed himself on me, not even in the beginning, when I sensed his interest.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll only cost you a cup of coffee.”

  We laughed as we entered the coffee shop. It was the only reason he’d followed me back here anyway. He’d become a regular at Café Crave.

  Phil had everything under control. No customers were waiting at the counter, and the same peaceful lull I experienced whenever I stepped into the building filled me. The strong aroma of coffee and spices mingling in the air. The steady hum of chatter and the clickety-clacks of keyboards as people worked through a coffee fix.

  Upgrading our Wi-Fi system had improved our sit-down customers, who usually bought a few cups of coffee before moving on. Phil had wanted to print the password on receipts for customers who only bought something for the day to enjoy, but in the end, I’d talked him out of it. Instead, we had the password displayed on the whiteboard behind the counter.

  “What’s your poison today?” I asked Dane.

  “Surprise me.”

  “You sure you want to do that?”

  “Come on, make me something special.”

  I smiled as I ducked behind the counter. “Let me wash my hands.”

  “Cal.” Phil grabbed my arm before I could head around to the back to wash up.