by Dale Mayer
Normally that wasn’t a problem here. She could walk, she could sit around and watch TV or read a book or visit with some of the patients or other live-in staff. But right now she didn’t want to be around anyone. She grabbed a plate and picked out a few items. She was very hungry, yet nothing appealed to her. By the time she reached the end of the buffet line, she figured she had enough nutrients to get her through the rest of the day. She walked to the other side of the dining hall and sat with her back to the room. She stared apathetically at her plate. Suddenly a man stood beside her.
She forced a smile at him. “Hi, Brock. What’s up?”
He motioned at the empty chair at her table. “May I sit?”
“Sure. What are you up to?”
“Waiting for Sidney to finish work so we can have dinner together.”
Sandra dropped her gaze to the table. That word together. It was wonderful when you were a couple with someone. But it seriously sucked when you were alone.
She pasted another bright smile on her face. “I’m happy for you two. You look like you would do well together.”
He chuckled. “I hope so, but I’m not easy. At least she’s not scared off by me.”
“Why would she be scared off?” Sandra asked, curious.
“Because I still have bad days,” he explained. “Some days I’m irrational, then I get completely overwhelmed with a lack of self-confidence, a sense of defeat and a sense of hopelessness. If it wasn’t for her standing by me through the rough times, I’m sure I wouldn’t have made it this far. And I certainly would have scared off any number of other potential girlfriends.”
Sandra wondered if some of this was a warning for her. “Sidney is a special person. She doesn’t scare easily.”
“Isn’t that the truth? She’s some woman.”
He seemed to mean it. That he was so full of admiration and joy, and just to know he was together with Sidney, brought a true smile to her face. “I’m really happy for you,” she said warmly.
He looked at her, his gaze piercing. “And I’m really happy for you too.”
She sat back, mostly wanting to put some distance between the two of them. “Why?”
“Because you and Cole have the basis for exactly what Sidney and I have. The trouble is, you two are back where Sidney and I were when we started. Lots of doubts and insecurities, rough days on either side, rubbing up against each other, and then pushing away. Like trying to keep magnets apart.”
She winced. “Yeah, that’s a little too close to the truth.”
He nodded. “But that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. Cole’s going through some rough times right now.”
She snorted. “You think?” She shook her head. “Of course he is. It’s part of his healing process.”
“Just because you know that doesn’t make it easy when he doesn’t include you in it.”
She shot him a look of surprise. “That’s very perceptive of you.” She shifted her gaze to the horses in the fields. “Maybe I should go for a horseback ride again tonight.”
He turned and glanced at the horses as well. “That would be a lovely idea. I guess I wanted to give you a vote of confidence,” he said with a brief self-conscious smile. “I don’t want you to give up on Cole. Because Cole might give up on himself then. That’s the worst thing any of us can do—giving up on ourselves and that someone special in our lives.”
He got up and left, leaving her to her thoughts. And what a mess they were.
She watched him walk away. Did he know about Cole’s breakthrough? She glanced around the room surreptitiously. Did anyone else know? The only way anybody could know is if Cole or the therapist had spoken to someone, and they’d either overheard or been that person spoken to. She sure as hell hadn’t said anything. Did Cole and Brock talk to that extent?
Maybe he knew what was going on with Cole’s current condition. She wanted to call Brock back and ask him if he knew what Cole’s breakthrough was all about. But that would be prying. She had had his door slammed in her face over that, quite firmly. There could be no asking questions and getting personal information unless it was from Cole now. That was tough too. Brock was part of his confidence group. She thought she had been. Obviously not. Rejection was a bitch.
She settled back and stared out at the grass and the sunset. As she sat here, she realized how much of an assumption she’d made over these last weeks as she and Cole got closer and closer. She had thought they were more than friends. Heading to something much more than that. Apparently, she’d overstepped her bounds and had been drifting down a fantasy road. But then she recalled conversations and touches, the joy of being with him, the glances, the smiles. It hadn’t been all on her own that she had made those assumptions. He’d been as much a part of it as she had been.
As she sat, more than sadness and despair filled her. There was a kernel of anger. She might’ve been responsible for where she was now, but so the hell was he. That wasn’t fair. She was exhausted after her swim, but now an anger that just wouldn’t go away rippled inside her, and she’d no idea what to do with it. Where could she go to avoid her anger? How would she handle this mess?
She’d never availed herself of any of the professional services offered here. Right about now, she could sure use someone. It would have to be somebody she didn’t know, somebody who didn’t know her situation because she’d have to work with them afterward, and that would be very difficult. She was essentially a very private person. She never aired her dirty laundry in public. But right now, she hurt. Everything hurt. She wasn’t sure how she would get through tonight. The evening stretched out ahead of her endlessly, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine getting through the initial hours.
Cole woke to darkness in his room. He slowly rolled over to his back. He hadn’t done anything overly physical, other than his normal therapy work. But he hurt. Everywhere. Joints he hadn’t noticed in the last few months were now aching. His muscles hurt—even his gut throbbed.
“What the hell was that all about?” he mumbled.
How was it that letting go of emotions and old traumas could hurt on so many deep physical levels? Yet, he finally had a sense of freedom. A sense of openness. As if he’d dropped several huge weights off his shoulders.
Which he guessed he had. He slowly sat up and lowered his legs to the floor. Grabbing his crutches, he made his way to the bathroom. As he stared at his face, he saw he even looked different. He wasn’t sure if that was an improvement yet. He still had that worn-out, been-through-the-fires-of-hell look. But not in a physical way—in an emotional way.
He checked his watch and saw it was just past midnight. He shook his head in astonishment. Talk about one helluva sleeping pill. He’d been knocked out and had stayed out. He’d missed dinner, sleeping all afternoon and into the evening, and now the whole place was asleep. Where the hell was he to go? He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to get up yet. His body had forced him out of bed but couldn’t he just go back to sleep?
He slowly made his way to the bed and realized he was still fully dressed. He hadn’t been under the covers—he’d been lying under a single blanket. Then he remembered his therapist had thrown it over him.
He wasn’t sure if he’d sleep anymore, but he had to try. He undressed to his boxers and this time crawled between the sheets. He rolled over and lay there a moment. But he wasn’t ready to go back under. He grabbed his cell phone to check his messages, but there was nothing from Sandra. Why would there be since he’d run her off earlier?
Then he remembered hearing the voices before he collapsed this afternoon. Sandra had been there, talking to his therapist. He winced, remembering how adamant he had been about not letting anybody in, about not wanting to talk to anybody or to see anybody. With a sinking heart, he guessed she had probably heard him.
And had taken it personally. Why wouldn’t she? After everything else he had said and done, it was personal. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He didn’t know for sure he had, but if that h
ad been him on the other side of the door, and her in the bed, saying, Keep them away, I don’t want anyone in here, he’d have taken it personally too.
Not in the mood to sleep right away, he sent her a text message. Sorry I didn’t see or talk to you earlier. I had a pretty rough day and went to bed. It’s past midnight now, but I am awake. Still feeling like crap but better.
Not giving himself a chance to second-guess his actions, he hit Send.
Chapter 16
Her phone went off. Sandra stared at it in the darkness. She shouldn’t answer it. There was no need. Whoever was texting could wait until morning.
Only … she couldn’t ignore it.
She snatched her phone off the night table and quickly checked to see who had sent her a message.
Cole.
Her heart stuttered, then stalled, and afterward raced ahead at the sight of his name. Of course he had her number. Every patient had the contact information for everyone on their team. So far, nobody had abused the system, so it worked well when somebody needed to contact them. She certainly hadn’t expected a text at midnight though. She read his message and then sank back onto her bed.
Well, at least that lined up with what she had already overheard or assumed. She didn’t understand quite what was going on, but he was still talking to her. She put down her phone and lay here in the darkness, wondering what she should do. She wanted to answer his text, but it might be better if she didn’t.
When her phone chimed again, she was afraid to pick it up. It was Cole once more. This time, his message was simple.
I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to get you in trouble.
There was something otherworldly about lying in bed, reading his communication, discerning what he meant by the words. Was there more to those statements? Was he saying, Walk away, that he didn’t want anything to do with her? Or had he really had such a crappy day, and he hadn’t done anything on purpose, so, if she’d been caught in the backlash, he was sorry?
She didn’t know how to answer him or if she even wanted to. If she did reply, he’d know she was awake. Did she want that? She shook her head. She didn’t know what the hell she wanted.
Wrong. She wanted her life back the way it was a few days ago, when she was in this little fantasy world that they were both working toward a relationship. Something other than friends. Something other than patient and practitioner. She already knew that could go very wrong. She thought back to what she’d heard today and to the therapist’s words when they spoke outside Cole’s room.
Cole had had a breakthrough, but what had he broken through from? If it was old traumas, that could be incredibly devastating. Any breakthrough was good because those walls were what stopped people from improving and from doing the things they needed to do. Things they had locked away and were afraid of that directed their actions as they moved forward. So much of it was painful. But it was old pain.
This was a different kind of growth. It was spiritual and emotional, and if he was doing that, more power to him. It said a lot about his character that he was taking those steps. Sometimes those changes happened when you least expected them. Like a paradigm shift, when suddenly you saw things and realized how you’d been acting or how you’d seen things. Realizing how very bad things had been or at least how very improved they were now.
She hated to use the words good and bad because that always came off as judgmental. That wasn’t what she wanted for her patients or herself. But there was this awareness of life afterward. As a child, you stuffed everything down inside, but it still directed your actions or words and your life ever after. As you added more and more events, more painful conversations and hurtful words and actions by others that you couldn’t face, they all determined who you ended up being.
She was only guessing here that something like that had happened to Cole. She already knew he was competitive and afraid of being compared and found lacking, always wanting to be the best. She didn’t know what else was going on. But one thing she did know was that regardless of how it turned out, she could not do any less than she always did.
He had reached out to her. If she didn’t reach back, it was a done deal. She wouldn’t have to worry about whether they’d be the professional patient and practitioner. That relationship would be finished. If she did reach out, it was no guarantee of anything more, but at least it would help his healing. And that was ultimately what he was here for.
And what she was here for.
If she did nothing other than her best to get him back on his feet and to move him out the door, she could look back on this stage and smile and know what she’d done had been the best thing for him. It might not be the best thing for her, but that was not the point of her being here. The question was, was she a big enough person to reach out to Cole? She stared at the text message. He probably thought she was asleep and would see this when she woke up. Instead, she was lying in her bed, unable to sleep because of him. Quickly she tapped out a reply. No need to apologize. Life happens.
She knew that was rather cold, but if she was sending it from her practitioner’s point of view, he had to know he was off the hook. She certainly didn’t begrudge him anything. After his words to her earlier, she decided to make something better out of all this instead of the stupid back and forth texting.
Nothing held them apart but themselves. That made her angry. Because that truly meant he wasn’t ready. She was, he wasn’t, and that was her problem, so she had to walk away. She’d always prided herself on having forthright conversations instead of endless drama. She was not someone who played mind games and twisted up words, reading things into them. Yet, here she hadn’t had that clean, clear conversation she was accustomed to.
That was as much on her shoulders as on his. He was a good guy. He’d had a rough start, but he’d also had a great number of years where he’d done well in life. It was a glaring example of reaching the top, enjoying success, and then having your feet pulled out from under you. In his case, having his feet pulled out from under him had resulted in the loss of a limb. He could certainly bounce back from that injury with absolutely no ongoing problems. The damaged muscle could be mended. The physical lifestyle would be harder. But all of it was doable. He could be and do and have anything he wanted. He just had to believe in it. He had to want it enough to make the effort to achieve it. She threw down her phone, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
Her phone beeped again. “Shit.”
She stared at the damned thing flashing on her bed beside her. It was Cole again. Hesitantly she reached out and clicked on the text.
No, that’s not life happening. That was me dealing with garbage. I think you heard something today that I didn’t mean for you to. I wasn’t sending you away, in particular. I wanted the world to go away. At least until I could restabilize and find my footing. Some old stuff came up today, and I let it all go, but in the process, it felt like I’d let go of my foundation. I was pretty shaky for a while. I was just trying to cocoon.
Her breath gusted out of her lungs in a big rush. She stared into the darkness around her. It was hard not to be affected by his words. Because she too knew how that felt. Anybody could relate to it. Anybody who lived and had a relationship, or who had tried to do something and failed. Life was as much about adjusting as it was about progressing. Sometimes it was the same thing. Accomplishments for patients at Hathaway House could be measured in minuscule increments.
It wasn’t the same for much of the world. But when it came to emotional healing, no cryptic signposts said how well you were doing. Usually, when something major happened to break through a wall following a trauma, there was hell. For Cole, there was quicksand all around him and a sense of newness and fear because now he understood what he’d been doing. So how would he stop himself from doing it again?
Supposedly the new patient perspective helped. But not always. He had done so well, and yes, she had heard those words. She’d reacted out of fear. She had bee
n afraid he didn’t want anything to do with her. Afraid he was shoving her away.
But he was right in telling the world to go away.
Slowly she typed her reply. Understandable. Hope you’re feeling better.
She hit Send. She wanted to say so much more—texting seemed so cold and formal. Even though she’d used very informal language, it was hard to reach out through this medium. She stared at the phone and wondered if she should hit Dial instead.
But they were both lying in their beds, and that was an intimacy she wasn’t sure he was ready for. As she rethought her decision, her phone rang in her fingers, startling her. Sure enough, it was Cole. With a soft smile on her face, she answered. “Hello, Cole. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” she chided gently.
“I could say the same for you,” he said.
His voice was both pained and harsh, as if his throat was sore. He’d probably been crying. For men who cried rarely, their throats were often sore afterward. “Did you sleep all afternoon?”
“Yes. I missed dinner, and now I’m lying here, wondering how long it’ll be until breakfast,” he said, a touch of self-deprecation in his tone. “I slept so many hours already, I doubt I’m gonna sleep again tonight.”
“After that kind of emotional trauma and release, you’d be surprised. You’re awake now, but in another hour or so, you could be sound asleep again.”
“I hope so.” There was an awkward silence, and then he added, “I think you were in the hallway earlier. I didn’t mean to name you specifically, but I thought it was you outside, and I didn’t want you to see me that way. I was hurting. I was confused. And I was crying. I couldn’t handle you seeing me like that.”
He’d been afraid she’d view him differently because of that. She shook her head wildly. “Oh Cole, I wouldn’t think any less of you. Trauma is trauma. It doesn’t matter if you’re male or female, young or old. None of us are strong enough to bottle up everything life keeps throwing at us without reacting. I wouldn’t have thought any less of you if I had seen you go through that breakthrough. You have to deal with the pain, the loss, or the sense of disconnect that often happens afterward. I certainly would never think any less of you if I saw you crying,” she stated plainly. “Any more than I would want you to think less of me if our positions were reversed.”