Coping Skills (Players of Marycliff University Book 5)

by Jerica MacMillan

  “Okay. Um … how long do you think I’ll need to come see you?”

  With raised brows, Margaret examined her face. “That’s up to you. You’ve been through a lot since this summer, and it doesn’t seem like you’ve taken the time to process it or talk to anyone about it. So we need to work through that. Everyone’s different, though, so I can’t guess how long it’ll take. You’ll know when you’re ready to back down our schedule or stop altogether.”

  Elena nodded. “Okay. Well, thank you, then. I guess I’ll see you next week.”

  “Sounds good. It was nice to meet you, Elena.”

  “You too.”

  Margaret opened the door and let Elena out to follow the hallway back to the waiting room. Hannah stood, her face equal parts hopeful and concerned. “How’d it go?”

  “Good. Well, I mean, as good as that kind of thing can, I guess. I like her, though. She reminds me of my aunt.”

  Hannah glanced over Elena’s shoulder, even though Margaret hadn’t followed her out. “Yeah, she does kind of look like her, doesn’t she?” Glancing at her watch, Hannah smiled. “Do you want to grab some lunch? Or …?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She hadn’t spent enough time with her friend lately. It was time to change that. “Lunch sounds great. Then you can go to your afternoon classes. You don’t need to babysit me all day.”

  Hooking her arm through Elena’s, Hannah pulled her toward the door. “I don’t mind, you know. You’re more important than a day of classes. I can afford the absence.”

  Elena looked at her friend, gratefulness squeezing her chest, choking her up again. She blinked away the tears, so tired of crying by now. “Thank you, Hannah.”

  Hannah turned her head, her sincere green eyes meeting Elena’s. “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Last time you mentioned that you felt guilty about wanting to come back to school in August?”

  Elena nodded, once more ensconced in the cozy loveseat in Margaret’s office. All she needed was a nice quilt, and she could stay here forever.

  “Why did you feel guilty?”

  “Because I’d been helping my mom all summer, and I couldn’t wait to get away.”

  Margaret tilted her head to the side. “That seems like a pretty normal feeling, don’t you think?” She paused, continuing when Elena didn’t answer. “I mean, suddenly having to take over your dad’s business and cooking meals for everyone so your mom could spend time in the hospital with your dad and then take him to and from all his appointments. That’s a lot of responsibility, especially when you’re taking care of a parent, who you expect to take care of you. Don’t you think anyone would want a break?”

  This time she didn’t continue, instead letting Elena think over her words. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Yeah. Especially since your father changed so much as a result of his accident. If I were living with someone who I expected to talk to me and spend time with me, and instead yelled at me and only ever wanted to watch TV, I think I’d want to get away, too, if I had the chance.”

  Elena nodded again. “That makes sense.”

  “Plus, you were always supposed to leave at the end of the summer. Did your mom expect you to quit school?”

  Shaking her head, Elena protested, “No. Of course not. My mom’s a teacher. Education is very important to her.”

  Margaret smiled. “Of course it is. So she never asked you to stay?”

  “No.”

  “And she wanted you to come back, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.” That came out as a hoarse whisper.

  Margaret nodded. “Yeah. Has your dad gotten any better?”

  Elena shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t cried as much since she’d come last week, the catharsis of telling someone all the gory details of her summer allowing her to pull herself together enough to get through her week. But now that she was back, the tears welled to the surface, and she let them, not bothering to try to fight them anymore.

  “No.” She cleared her throat. “No. I went back for Fall Break, but couldn’t make myself stay after he screamed at me for trying to talk to him. All he wants to do is watch shows on Netflix. And even though he could pause the show, he gets mad when anyone interrupts him.”

  Margaret made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry. That would be difficult.” She paused, glancing at her notebook and shifting in her seat. “Is that the reason you ended up crying in bed for three days after that?”

  “Kind of. That wasn’t all of it, though.”

  “Oh?” She made a note. “What else was going on?”

  “Well, there’s this guy. Daniel.” Elena dropped her gaze to her hands, picking at a ball of fuzz near the hem of her sweater. She told Margaret a short version of the story of her and Daniel, and how she’d ended it after he’d gotten hurt, then tried to go over there again when she needed comfort. “He accused me of using him.”

  When Elena looked up, Margaret wore the same accepting, thoughtful expression as always. “Why do you think he felt that way?”

  Elena took a deep breath. “Because I was. I only saw him when I wanted to feel better. I knew he wanted more from me, and I avoided it whenever it came up.”

  “Hmm. That’s not entirely true.”

  “Yes it is.”

  Margaret shook her head. “No. You told me that you agreed to openly date him. So at some point, you weren’t just using him to feel better anymore. You cared enough about him to date him and go to his game, wearing his jersey, because you knew it was important to him.”

  Shrugging, Elena looked down again. “Or I just did what I needed to do to keep him around so I could feel better when I wanted to.”

  Margaret was silent for a minute. “Is that why you did it? To keep him around?”

  “No.” Elena wiped away the new tears running down her cheeks.

  “It seems to me that you ascribe the worst intentions to your own actions.” Margaret spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. “You feel guilty for wanting your life to return to normal after a traumatic upheaval, as though no one else would feel that way. As though you don’t have the right to want things to be what they were. And you blame yourself for entering into a relationship with someone who wanted to be in a relationship with you, as though you don’t deserve it. You take his accusation that you used him too much to heart.”

  Elena looked up. “But I did use him. Maybe not the whole time, but at the beginning. And I tried to use him last weekend. It wasn’t fair of me to go to him after I broke up with him.”

  Thinking this over, Margaret nodded. “True. In which case, some of your guilt where he’s concerned is appropriate. Sometimes guilt is a good thing. It spurs us to make right the wrongs that we’ve committed. With Daniel, some of your guilt is that kind. But some of it is misplaced, just like the guilt about your dad. You’re grieving the loss of that relationship. Even though he didn’t die, it’s still a loss, and you need to allow yourself to move through that loss, to process and grieve without getting hung up on guilt.”

  Sniffing, Elena reached for the box of tissues. Margaret moved them closer, sitting back and waiting for Elena to respond. Her voice thick with emotion, Elena let out her darkest confession. “Sometimes … sometimes I wish he had died. Then I could grieve him, and it would be normal, and people would understand. And I wouldn’t be stuck in this weird place where I have a dad who’s not my dad. He barely looks like him anymore. He’s gained weight and has frown lines and scars. He’s angry and depressed all the time. My dad was energetic and full of life.” She smiled through her tears, thinking about how her dad used to be. “He always wanted to talk to me about anything. He took us—my brother and me—to the minor league baseball games every summer, and took our family on awesome summer vacations starting when we were little. As we got older they got longer, his business doing well enough that he’d work part time from wherever we went, and we’d stay for like a month.”

  Shaking h
er head, she twisted the tissue in her hands. “He barely leaves the house now. When people hear what happened, they always say something like, ‘Oh, that’s awful, but at least he didn’t die,’ and I never know how to respond, because I don’t think that’s true. But they don’t get it. And how awful is it for a daughter to wish that her father—who wasn’t an abusive asshole or anything like that—had died? How do you tell someone that?”

  Margaret’s gentle voice cut through Elena’s distress. “Why do you need to tell anyone that?”

  She shrugged.

  “People rarely know what to say in the face of someone else’s grief. And that’s okay. They’re trying to express their condolences the best they can. Even though it’s terrible, people always try to mitigate the awfulness. It makes them feel better.”

  Elena nodded, and Margaret didn’t continue until Elena had looked up and met her eyes again.

  “You’re not responsible for how those people feel. So they can say whatever they want, and you don’t have to say anything. Or, if you want to be polite, you can nod and say thank you. But you don’t need to reveal your deepest grief to them. No one else needs to know about that.

  “But the way you feel is totally normal. You don’t need to feel guilty about that either. What you need to do is be kind to yourself. Give yourself time and space. Do what you need to do to take care of yourself.”

  “Okay.” Elena wiped her nose and grabbed another tissue.

  Margaret studied her. “I think, though, that you might feel better if you apologize to Daniel.”

  “Yeah. I tried that Friday night, but that didn’t go well.”

  “Well, it might be better if you apologized without expecting anything from him.”

  “What if he doesn’t forgive me?” The question came out on a whisper, confession of her deepest feelings apparently the order of the day.

  “That’s his choice. But you’ll feel better for having done what you can. And that’s what we’re focused on. You can’t control what he does or doesn’t do.”

  Elena nodded, noticing that it was nearing eleven thirty, the end of her appointment, and stood. “Okay. I’ll figure out how to do that this week. I don’t know if he’ll take my calls.”

  Margaret stood as well. “You can always write him a letter.”

  “Yeah.” Elena flashed a brief smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you next week.”

  “Good game, man. That was a nice catch you pulled off at the end.”

  A hand fell on Daniel’s shoulder, and he turned to find Romero, one of the safeties, following him out of the locker room. “Thanks. I got lucky.”

  Their third-string quarterback had been put in for the fourth quarter, a freshman. He had a good arm, but his aim could be a little wild, and Daniel had had to jump and reach to catch the ball. He almost hadn’t, but his fingers tipped it, disrupting its flight enough that it dropped, and he caught it as he landed. He’d had to drop and roll when he hit the ground, and they’d done a running play to score the final touchdown that won them the game, so he hadn’t been able to add the score to his personal tally, but it felt good to close the season on a win anyway.

  “You going to the party?”

  Daniel slowed, hesitating. This was supposed to be an epic party, and normally he’d go, especially since this was his last game. He hadn’t been in much of a partying mood, though. Not since Elena had dropped by three weeks ago, and he’d sent her away. His head was better, and he’d only missed one game, the trainer wanting him to have a full two weeks of rest before clearing him for practice again. But his heart still hadn’t recovered.

  Coop wanted him to go. He’d left him alone for the most part, but before the game today had told him he needed to quit moping and come to the party. At least make an appearance and say goodbye to the team.

  That was what decided it. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you there.”

  “Sounds good.” His eyes scanned the area outside of the locker room, looking for Coop. He’d come out a few minutes ago, hoping to chat up some girls he’d invited to the game and the party afterward earlier this week.

  But Daniel wasn’t prepared for the girl he saw Coop talking to.

  Elena stood next to Coop, her dark hair hanging down her back in a braid, coming out from under a red Marycliff beanie. One of the ones they sold in the student center. When she laughed, something clenched and shifted inside him, a mix of pain, anger, and longing. He missed her laugh. He hadn’t seen her or talked to her since that night, even though he’d almost texted her or called her more times than he could count.

  It was Coop that kept him from doing it. “Dude, she used you,” he’d said. “That’s fucked up. Delete her number.”

  He hadn’t, though. Even though thinking about her made him angry and hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to delete her number. That felt too final. And even though he knew it was over, that he shouldn’t see her or talk to her anymore, the thought of being unable to if he wanted to was too much.

  She hadn’t tried to contact him, either.

  But now she was here. What was she doing here? She’d said she couldn’t handle watching someone she loved risking a head injury. Did that mean she didn’t care about him anymore? Maybe she hadn’t ever really cared. But then why break up with him?

  He shook his head, he’d been asking himself the same relentless questions over and over and never came up with a satisfactory answer to any of them. None of it made sense to his logical brain. When the questions got to be too much, he’d hit the weight room or lose himself in math homework. There were always right answers there. If he got something wrong, he could ask for help to figure out where and how. Things were simple, clear cut. Not a tangled mass of emotion and sensation, overwhelming and unpredictable.

  She turned, then, and her eyes met his, the smile left over from talking to Coop fading as she looked at him. Hot anger poured over him, scalding down his spine. Why was she talking to Coop? And why was Coop flirting with her, making her smile? Coop had been the one to tell him to stay away from her. Was he fucking around with her behind his back?

  The thought made him want to vomit. He turned, not able to stomach the idea of the two of them, and started toward the parking lot. He had to get away.

  “Daniel, wait!”

  It was Elena. He walked faster. He didn’t want anything to do with her right now, the wound she’d left still too raw and open.

  “Please. Can we please talk?”

  He stopped, whirling on her. “No. We’ve done more than enough talking. You’re the one who ended things. Why do you keep coming back?”

  She stopped, and he could see her throat work as she swallowed. He recognized that look on her face, the way she swallowed. It was what she did when she was fighting back her tears. That knowledge almost undid him, but he clenched his jaw.

  “Goodbye, Elena.” Without waiting for a response from her, he pushed through the doors of the stadium and left, hoping she wouldn’t follow him.

  He heard footsteps behind him, and resigned himself to a worse confrontation in the parking lot. At least it was cold. Hopefully that would keep her from drawing it out.

  Turning, he was surprised to find Coop there. Surprised, but still angry, his hands clenched in fists at his side. “What the fuck, man? Did you tell me to stay away from her so you could take your chances or what?”

  Coop’s eyes widened, his hands going up, palms out. “Whoa. What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you.” He ground his teeth, taking a deep breath, trying to force himself to be calm. “I saw you talking to her, making her laugh, being your usual charming self. This, after you told me to delete her number, not talk to her anymore. What was that all about?”

  Shaking his head, Coop took a step closer. “No, man. You got it wrong. I wasn’t flirting with her. We were just talking. She came to see you.”

  With another deep breath, he examined Coop’s face, but couldn’t detect any
thing to indicate he was lying. Daniel relaxed a fraction, his shoulders lowering, his fists unclenching. “Yeah? What was she laughing about?”

  Coop let his hands drop. “Nothing. I made some joke about the weather. It wasn’t even that funny. But she was nervous, so she laughed.”

  “What was she nervous about?”

  One of Coop’s dark brows rose. “I’d guess talking to you. It didn’t go so well last time, after all. And from what I saw, her fears were entirely justified.”

  Daniel’s breath rushed out in a whoosh. “Can you blame me?”

  “I didn’t say that.” Coop shook his head. “Just making an observation.”

  Turning, Daniel headed for the car again, Coop falling in step beside him. “Did she tell you why she came?”

  Coop eyed him out of the corner of his eye. “She said she wanted to apologize. She apologized to me for always kicking me out while you guys were together, and she said she needed to apologize to you, too.”

  “Huh.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Coop opened his mouth, hesitated, but then spoke. “I think … I think maybe you should call her. Let her say what she has to say.”

  Daniel’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Didn’t you tell me to delete her number? How’m I supposed to call her?”

  Coop let out a chuckle. “Did you really delete her number, dude?” He waited for an answer, but Daniel said nothing. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Call her. Hear her out. If you still feel the same as you do now, then go ahead and follow my advice. Delete her number, and move on.”

  They got to the car, and Coop pulled out his keys, hitting the button to open the trunk. Putting their bags in the trunk before getting into the car, Daniel let out a sigh.

  “Drop me off at home, dude. I’m not in the mood for a party right now.”

  “Nope.”

  “What?” Daniel’s voice was loud in the small confines of the car. “Take me home, asshole.”