Well, I'm making my own decision today,” I concluded, raising my chin defiantly. “I don't think I want to come to see you anymore. I don't want to see any therapists anymore, at all. So thanks for your help, thanks for the journals...but I'm done.”
“Jade--”
I heard her mumbling some sort of soothing pleas to bring me back to my sanity, or what little of it I had, but it was too late. I slammed the door to her office, cutting off her high-pitched words, and strode down the hallway to put as much space between me and Ms. Orowitz as possible.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As soon as I walked outside and the chill wind hit my face, I felt the relief of being free. The fire extinguishing inside of me was further admonished as I continued to stride forward, one foot in front of the other, looking down as I did so to make sure they continued moving. I couldn't allow myself to stop, not right now.
I had to admit, it felt good to be angry, to yell...to have felt so strongly about anything. When most of my coping techniques resulted in a vast, emotional void that could feel no pain, being able to express an emotion made me feel like a magician. I had transformed all of the sadness and anger stewing inside of me into something that was real.
What did Ms. Orowitz know about love, anyway? She had instructed me to call her 'Miss' at the start of our sessions (when I insisted I wouldn't be calling her Cathy, her first name—what a suitably annoying name) for a reason. She wasn't married, and I doubted she had ever been. Aside from the sheer, overpowering exasperation of her personality, which I figured would be reasonably hard to match with someone, how would one become romantically close with a therapist? I would hate to always wonder if I were being analyzed; I'd always be thinking they would trick me into doing or feeling something I hadn't thought of on my own.
I also didn't remember seeing any pictures of children in her office in any of the times I'd been there over the months. She would be such a self-satisfying mother, so it was probably a good thing if she didn't have any offspring.
And yet, now that my anger had subsided, a part of me felt guilty for projecting my anger onto the small, fat-bottomed shrew of a therapist. It was true that, of all the people I knew, I couldn't think of a better target for the moment when I could finally vocalize my feelings, but it was also something that I'd never done before. Had I gone too far?
The familiar numbness returned its way to me, shrouding my mind in a thick, dark veil. Guilt was so demoralizing, and it was something I'd faced, unnecessarily I'm sure, more times than I could count. I was never good at dealing with guilt.
I banished the thought of Ms. Orowitz, promising my still-remorseful conscience that I would come back to it at a later time.
Right now, all I wanted to think about was Austin. It seemed like it had been so long since I'd seen him that I was afraid I might forget what his sharp, wonderfully handsome face looked like. I thought about it more and realized that it had been a long time...almost a week. My heart sank with even more shame. How could I have been so selfish?
Without even thinking, I retrieved my phone from my pocket and began tapping and scrolling through the scant numbers in my phone book. Most of my contacts were numbers that I hadn't dialed in years. He was right there at the top: Austin Fletcher.
I continued walking, watching my boots as I neared the stop light that signaled I was only about a half mile away from home. I assumed Austin had been working and would be busy, that he wouldn't answer my call. It surprised me when he did, almost right away.
“Jade? Good God, I'm so glad to hear from you! Where have you been, are you okay?”
“Hey hey, one question at a time,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. It was great to hear his deep voice resonating into my ear once again. “I'm really, really sorry it took so long for me to call you.”
“No, no, it's alright, don't apologize,” Austin replied, though his voice had become a little quieter. “I'm just really happy to hear from you. Now I'll ask again, are you okay?”
I hesitated, glancing back in the direction of Ms. Orowitz's office. “I...yeah, I'm...better,” I compromised. “Are you busy? I don't want to interrupt you at work--”
“Oh please, don't worry about that, I have a minute for this. Trust me. Hold on a minute.”
“I...okay...”
There was some shuffling, and the muted background noise on his end of the phone disappeared completely. It sounded as if he'd gone outside. “Okay. So...what's been going on?”
I sighed. Where did I start? “Well...I've just had an interesting time with my therapist. I kind of lost it on her...but it's okay,” I informed him. I did my best to make it seem like it was really okay. “Listen, I...I know you said not to apologize, but I feel like I need to again. I do trust you. It wasn't fair for me to just disappear, and I don't want you to think it has a single thing to do with you. Because it doesn't.”
I could practically hear the gears turning in Austin's head through the phone. “Well...if I might ask, what has it been about? I'm completely in the dark over here, but I was worried about you.”
My tone softened. “I know, I never meant to worry you. It's a lot of things, and I'd like to talk to you about them in person.” I hesitated, feeling the butterflies in my stomach again that I'd missed so much. “I care about you a lot, and I want you to be part of this. But only if you want to be.”
“Jade, of course I do. You know I do.”
“Okay.” I inhaled. “Well...can we meet up tomorrow?”
***
Austin took the day off from work the next day and asked me if I'd want to come over to his house.
“But, won't you get in trouble for calling in?” I'd asked him.
“Nah, I've been working there long enough to have a few perks.”
And so I had agreed. I jotted down his address and prepared to make my way to the bus stop later in the afternoon, braving the dry air that had turned bitter and cold in the wake of yesterday's gusty winds. This weather brought along a light, dry snow that sat like beads of styrofoam on the sidewalks and twirled into small tornadoes with each passing car.
I set out to leave, but not before reading the note that Mom had left on the dining room table before she'd gone to work.
“Good morning honey...didn't want to wake you, but I got a call yesterday afternoon from your therapist. You don't need this note to know that we're gonna need to talk about it today. See you when I get home, love you. -Mom”
I grimaced, and my pulse quickened for just a moment as I remembered the incident. I took the note so Mom would know I'd read it and used the back to write down which bus stop I needed to go to. It would be easy though—Markson's Thrift Store was an obvious landmark, one I was now familiar with.
I tried not to think about Ms. Orowitz too much as I rode the smell-filled bus through the mostly empty suburban streets. Unfortunately the lack of interesting scenery and my urge to separate myself from the ever-present bus zombies both made it difficult to think of much else. I wondered if I should talk to her, and what she had said to my mother.
“Well, your daughter went insane today, finally snapped,” I could hear her squeaking to my mother. “I would recommend a psychological evaluation, and there are several different medications that I feel would benefit the obvious deep-seated anger present within her. Though really, we don't have much success with children who are as...unstable...as Jade is.”
I shook my head, knowing it was just the shadow of my anxiety that dictated these thoughts to me. I took a deep breath in, trying to dismiss the worry from my mind, and decided I would do my best to continue ignoring the subject until I got a chance to talk to Mom about it. It was a conversation that, like so many others I'd been having with her recently, I didn't look forward to.
The rumbling of the engine deepened, and the bus slowed. As it lurched to a halt just outside Markson's Thrift Store, my stomach churned with a new anxiety.
Austin was standing, waiting for me among three or four others group
ed at the bus stop, his hands shoved in the front pockets of his black zip-up sweater. Fear danced inside of me as I looked at the familiar lines of his jaw and cheekbones, set around those glittering eyes. His dark hair, hanging over his forehead, looked casually unkempt, like it was when he'd first spoken to me at the painting class. He looked calm and even cheerful, as he normally did, but his smile was contained by his pale, somewhat plush lips. Even when he wasn't smiling, he still was; the corners of his mouth still pulled into an animated smirk. I lowered my head and quelled my nerves as much as I could, willing myself to get up and meet him on the sidewalk.
“Jade!” he said, waving to me. His breath hung in the air in a puff of steam. His jacket didn't look nearly thick enough for this weather. I approached Austin slowly, shuffling my feet in front of me.
I was taken by surprise when he leaned in and wrapped his arms around me. “I missed you,” he said, pulling away so he could look me in the eyes, his hands still on my shoulders. His were filled with what looked like concern. “How have you been? And I mean it...how have you really been?”
He missed me? I smiled, then swallowed anxiously as we walked together along the empty sidewalk. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of the puffy, down peacoat I wore, which made Austin's jacket seem like little more than a t-shirt. “Well...I mean, I've been okay. I don't want you to worry too much about me. It's just been a really eventful week.” I paused for a moment. “But you...how have you been? What did you do this week?”
Austin's laugh chimed through the brisk air, seeming to carry on the breeze. “Oh, just working. I took a couple hours of overtime this week, since the only other thing I did was worry about you and think about the great ending to our dinner.”
By the gleam in his eyes and the faint glimmer of his white teeth peeking out from his smile, I could tell he was trying to be charming. Maybe he was even hinting at something, bringing up that kiss. I'm sure he didn't mean for me to suddenly feel like I was two inches tall. I stood in the glaring shadow of my faults, thinking of how unfairly I'd treated him, practically abandoning him after he opened up to me. I found myself remembering Ms. Orowitz's advice—“Put yourself in his shoes...” It only made me feel worse.
Instead of sulking, I forced a laugh, hoping it didn't sound too hollow. I picked up the pace despite the fact that he was the only one between us who knew which way we were headed.
“It's cold,” I explained when his eyebrow raised at the change of pace. “And I'll make it up to you. I promise.”
“You don't have to do anything, I'm just teasing you.”
“I know, but I feel obligated. I felt terrible that I couldn't just pick up the phone and call you, but...” I pursed my lips and bowed my head again to the ground.
“But what?” Austin asked, hurrying to keep up with me. He leaned his head towards me confidentially, as if the low-sweeping trees gathered near the edge of the sidewalk might overhear my reply. He was close enough now that I felt his breath on my face, and I remembered the kiss he'd given me. I wondered if there would be more someday.
“I just...I'll tell you about it when we get to where we're going.”
I looked around at the unfamiliar scenery as we continued walking. Just as it had appeared from the bus stop, the neighborhood was made almost exclusively of smaller, older houses, most of them only one or two stories and nearly all with pointed little roofs and square yards fenced in traditional aluminum. One or two of the houses were enormous and jutted out from the trees around them in lusciously cleared, oversized yards. They appeared like mansions amongst the others, lording over the street like antique aristocrats.
“Speaking of...er, where are we going? How much further do you live?” We'd only been walking for maybe a quarter of a mile, but the chill in the air made the distance seem much greater. Even with my hands in the deep pockets of one of my warmest coats, my fingers were still becoming numb with cold.
I glanced towards Austin again, really taking in the shape of his sharp face against the bright white of the cloud-covered sky. He was gazing upwards, an ever-present smile resting just out of sight on his face.
“Well, lucky for you,” he said, returning my gaze without turning his head towards me, “I live pretty close to the bus stop, just like you. You won't have to be tortured for much longer. In fact, right up there—” he pulled one hand from his pockets and pointed straight ahead like some sort of captain—“do you see the bluish-looking house with the wood fence?”
I held up my hand, squinting against the afternoon sun that lit up the clouds from somewhere deep within them. “I think so...yes.”
“Okay, that's the one!”
“Oh good.” I shoved my hand back into the warmth of my coat. “Does your mom know I'm here? Will...will I meet any of your family?” The thought had just struck me, filling me with a new wave of anxiety.
Austin snorted. “Pf, absolutely not. My mom's at work, and my sister's in school. College,” he corrected, crinkling his straight nose a bit. Surely there must be something behind that look, but I decided I would wait until later to find out.
“Oh...okay...”
“Why?” he turned towards me again, stepping a little closer to me so that our shoulders were almost touching. “Did you want to meet them?”
“Oh, I don't know,” I stammered. “I don't think--”
Austin's twinkling laugh interrupted me once again. “Relax, I'm still just messing with you. You need to calm down...eventful week or not, stress is a huge killer.”
“Yeah, that's what they tell me.”
Austin gently bumped me with his shoulder, making me lose my footing for a moment. I raised my eyebrow at him, accepting his challenge, and bumped him back before I looked down at my feet again. This time, I felt myself smiling.
“See, I knew I could make you laugh,” he declared, beaming a smile of his own.
“But you didn't...you just made me smile.”
“Oh whatever, close enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Austin's house differed greatly from my own—it appeared smaller at first because it lacked a second story. The living room was smaller than ours and only had space for two loveseats instead of a full-size sofa, but the kitchen had ample space and had been decorated in bright, cheerful colors, making it seem even larger. The house did also have a basement where Austin's room was located. It was situated in the back, accessible only after traipsing through a partially completed laundry room area.
I took in every detail as he led me downstairs. The entire house was silent and much darker than I thought it should be, considering the time of day. I didn't mind it though—the solitude was almost comforting. It felt like being in a cave that disconnected me from the rest of the world in the most literal sense. Only this time, I wasn't by myself. I was with Austin.
His room was even darker than the rest of the house because it was only illuminated by a small, rectangular window near the top of the furthest wall which allowed only a small amount of light to filter in.
“Sorry about that...here,” he said, reaching past me to flick the light switch on the wall.
Now that I could see things properly, it was clear Austin had pasted his personality into every available space of the small, rectangular room. A desk sat parallel to a smaller bed on one side, and they were both surrounded by wall shelves housing a variety of knick-knacks and books. A few of them appeared to be cooking-related, but a few books amongst them had been authored by people I recognized—Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King, and Mark Twain were some of the first that popped out at me.
As Austin gently urged me forward with his hand in the small of my back, I stepped further into the room. The most defining feature had to be the plethora of artwork on the walls. I'd never seen so many pictures in one room! Some of them hung in frames—those adorned the side of the room opposite the bed and desk, above a black futon couch—and some of them were simply thumb-tacked to the wall. There appeared to be an even number of both.
<
br /> I stepped towards the wall of framed paintings and drawings, and the realistic and somewhat impressionist style of one smaller image seemed familiar to me. The subject, a young woman in a red winter coat, stood by herself against the dark silhouette of a forest of trees in the background. She didn't look frightened though; rather, she looked empowered and confident. I wish I could feel like she looks.
“Did...did you paint this?”
Austin walked over, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and ruffling his dark hair. He stood just behind me. “Oh yeah, I did. It's my rendition of Little Red Riding Hood. D'you like it?” He seemed eager to receive my approval.
“I absolutely love it!” I sighed with admiration. Admiration, respect, and maybe even some jealousy. “Gosh, you're so talented.”
I gazed across the rest of the pieces. “I don't see any reason why any of these shouldn't be hanging on the walls of a restaurant, or library, or wherever.”
He chuckled lightly and folded his arms over his chest, looking over his work with me. “Well, I guess they'd be a lot better off there than just hanging out in my fortress of solitude.”
I felt his warm hand on my shoulder, and Austin turned me towards him. “Do uh, do you wanna take off your coat, sit down or something? Make yourself comfortable.” He smiled, gesturing towards both his bed and the futon couch.
My heart skipped a beat. It would be so easy to just sit down on the small, intimate-sized couch below the wall of paintings right in front of me...but instead, I unzipped my coat, casually threw it on the futon, and ambled to the other side of the room. I briefly assessed the array of sketches, drawings, and watercolor paintings that were pinned there. Many of the pieces were in various stages of completion, and it was wonderful to glimpse this part of Austin's creative process.
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