“So how have things been these last few days?” he asks me, his professional tone putting a little wall between us, thin enough to break down if needed.
I chuckle without humor. Between my break up with Duke, him drunk and pushing me away, my parents here, my visit to Sean, and then Duke there to catch me as I stumbled … It’s been a hell of a few days.
“I broke up with Duke. It’s … hard.” I glance at my hands on my thighs. I’m not clawing at the denim or fisting them. I’m too tired to have an ounce of fight inside of me right now, and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not.
“How …” He clears his throat with uneasiness. “How are things now?”
I shrug. I do this more and more, but it reflects well how I’m lost most of the time even with simple questions. “Hard. Painful.” I think about when Duke was drunk in his room. It’s so much more than just painful and hard to see him like this, to see a real glimpse into his self-destructive side I’d only heard about but never had to deal with. I know he’s stronger now. it was just a nasty come back for just one night, but it’s tattooed in my soul. One more scar there, but one I brought on myself this time around. “But he’s still there even without me asking for his help.”
“How’s that?” He scribbles something on a blank page, and I feel the tension radiating from him.
I hesitate just a minute, more unsure about Dr. Marshall than what I have to disclose about Sean. I’m sure he never thought I’d go see Sean so soon, not before he had to talk me into it during another appointment.
“I had a bad dream. Kate called Derek, but he was with Duke so they both came. Duke calmed me down, but at that point I realized that you’re right. I needed to see Sean a last time for closure. I told them, and Duke left angry.” I take a deep breath and tell him about my parents here in Seattle. From the light in Dr. Marshall’s eyes, I think he’s proud of me calling for help, calling my parents instead of keeping them in the dark like I often do. “I saw Sean this morning.”
He stops writing mid-sentence, looks up at me, his mouth open inelegantly, something I’m not used to seeing. “You saw him?” His eyes roam over my face, as if he’s looking for something different, but there’s nothing different. It’s not visible at least.
“I went alone and it went …” I cut myself off before finishing my sentence. I cock my head on one side. “I don’t even know how it went to tell you the truth.” I picture Sean’s angry face in my mind and his outburst when I left, turning my back on him for the first time ever. “It was bad by anyone’s standards, but good enough for me.’’
“How did you feel facing him?”
“I felt very little, but very exposed.” I run both hands on my arms as new chills go through my body. “I was quite disconnected at first.” I glance at the clock and relax when I see that I still have half an hour to talk. “He was trying to make a point of how he never loved me but just wanted to possess me like an object. It hurt and still does.” I dry my cheeks from tears falling as I feel like Sean is twisting the knife inside me even from afar. “But I walked away, and it drove him mad. I stayed just ten minutes, and being the one ending the conversation and walking away felt good, even if he trashed everything on my way out, calling me names.”
“You shouldn’t have gone alone.” He shakes his head, frowning as his eyes follow the path my tears are taking down my cheeks and my neck.
“Duke was waiting for me in the parking lot. He was there when I cried, and it immediately calmed me, like always when he’s around.”
Dr. Marshall puts down his pen and brings a hand to his eyes a second. He takes a deep breath before he entwines his fingers in front of him, almost like in a prayer. “Believe me, I hate to tell you this, and you know why but … do you think it’s a good idea to break up with Duke?”
“What do you mean?”
“You tell me that he’s the only one able to calm you, to make you feel better and you obviously love him. So do you really think it’s a good thing to drive away the person that brings some happiness into your life? Don’t you think you’re making a mistake?”
“You told me I should maybe think that Duke is not the right man for me!”
“Yes, because you were always crying because of your fights with him. Because even if you love someone at eighteen, it doesn’t mean he’ll be the one you’ll marry and have kids with, no matter how you love that person in the present.” He screws up the page he wrote on earlier. “I’m going to tell you the harsh truth, Skye.” I brace myself, my hands tight on the seat of my chair. “You think you deserve nobody because you’re tainted by Sean. You think you can’t be really happy, and that your pain will bring down people you love with you. So what do you do? You push away Duke, the man you love and who loves you in return and is ready to do anything for you. I saw him. He’s definitely someone tormented by his own demons, but he’s strong enough to fight his and yours. But you don’t think you have a shot at happiness, not for a lengthy time at least, so you’re punishing yourself while you believe you’re doing what is best for the others. Next in line will be Derek and then Kate and lastly your parents. Because you’re not truly happy, you’re building your life around your pain. When there is be nobody else in your life, you’ll destroy yourself, the last remnant of life inside of you.” He leans over his desk, his face as close to mine as possible with the desk between us as his eyes focus on me. I’m not breathing, but the tears are falling hard and silently. “But you know what? You should take some risk with your family and friends and with Duke. Think about it that way. If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll be in pain, but if it does work out, you’ll have a real life made of black, white and grey with splotches of vibrant colors. Take a damn risk and live. Take in stride this second chance you’ve been offered because not many people are granted even one, and do it for you and nobody else.”
“But I can’t,” I whisper, my lips shaking and deforming the words. I stop trying to dry my face as the tears continue. My skin is itching, my eyes are burning, but I don’t really worry about how I look. “There’s something inside of me too broken to know how to be happy.”
He gives me the box of handkerchiefs. “Then let the people around you show you how it’s done and don’t force it. When you’re sad, don’t hide it. When you’re angry, yell it. When you’re happy, smile and laugh. When you want to cry, explain why. When you have good or bad news, go find someone you’re close to and tell them. Make some mistakes, fall and stand back up and grab the hands that are extended to you. But above everything else, do it for yourself, not because you don’t want to worry your friends or parents.”
“And if I still can’t?”
He smiles softly at me and waves at his office. “You’re not going to get rid of me just yet. It’s just the beginning, Skye.”
I close my eyes and let myself feel all the things inside of me like grief for Sean, the Sean I thought I knew but really never existed, and the anger at myself as a teenager unable to back out of the relationship. I think about Duke how I made myself fall in love with him and it messed with everything even more in my head, about my parents who hadn’t succeeded in helping Sean’s mother, and about Dr. Marshall how he woke everything up inside of me. But one thing I’m doing right now, is saying goodbye to the old me and Sean and the illusions I built up in my head because after what happened last when he abducted me, I tried to picture him as more human than he really is. I couldn’t believe someone I fell in love with could do such a thing. I lied to myself to protect me, and I can acknowledge it now. That’s a first step, a baby-step, but it’s a beginning.
***
DUKE
“And she left without a word?’’ Derek asks me, sipping his coffee with a deep frown.
I nod, my eyes going back to my empty styrofoam cup. My shoulders are hunched over and my head is close to hanging down. I don’t have much more strength. I mustered everything I could to get to the prison and wait for Skye. I even kept it together when I had her
in my arms, and I just wanted to kiss the hell out of her. Then, as if I wasn’t suffering enough, I had to keep a sort of dignity in Dr. Dills class. But now I’m with my best friend, and all I want to do is destroy the coffee house and punch all the people happily chatting and laughing around us.
“My hugs aren’t magical. It’s not like she’d have jumped me just because I showed up.”
“I just thought you two would have talked a little.”
I shrug and try to not reach in my backpack for that very thing I bought right after Skye left campus without a look at me. Alcohol. Whiskey to be exact. I shouldn’t want it or even keep it, but I need something, anything.
“You know many exes talking like old friends?” I cringe as the label left my mouth. Fucking label.
“It’s different, and you know it. Don’t close off again.’’
I glance back at him and see the worried lines between his eyebrows. I know I freaked him shitless the other night when I drank and pathetically cried. It must have brought back bad memories for him.
“Believe me, Derek, I’m feeling every fucking jolt of pain right now. Night and day. It doesn’t fucking leave me.’’ I bring a hand closed into a fist to my heart. “She’s here, and that shit doesn’t leave me for even a second. I can’t close off even if I wanted to.’’
Derek exhales and rubs at his neck. I know him and how worried he gets where I’m concerned, and I can’t reassure him. I will not lie to my best friend.
“You’ll get better, I know it.’’
I grab my backpack, determined to polish off that new bottle of Jack. Standing up, I shoulder my backpack, ready to bolt. I need a reprieve, and even if I know I’ll be thinking about her, craving her and still be mad at her even once I’m too drunk to form a coherent sentence, that pain will be easier to handle. At least, that’s how it makes me feel.
“That’s the thing, I don’t want to.’’
I turn around and walk out, ready to feel the burn of Jack going down my throat.
Chapter Thirteen
DUKE
I keep my eyes on my backpack, fighting against myself. I don’t even know why I’m fighting it, though. Grayson isn’t going to be back until late tonight because of some study group or other¸ Derek is busy and I’m here alone, single. I can drink that bottle of Jack in my backpack if I want to.
I rub at my eyes again, battling the tears. Feeling so weak, so powerless is messing me up good. All I want now is not even numbing myself at this point, but it’s being able to get through tonight without letting these fucking emotions ruin me. But I know drinking won’t solve problems, so I’m sitting on my unmade bed, my hand rubbing at my eyes whenever fresh tears threaten to fall while my other hand is bringing a cigarette to my mouth.
At this point, I don’t feel the smoke burning in my lungs. I don’t smell it or anything. There’s a whole lot of nothing around me while everything is happening inside of me, both in my heart and in my head.
I was there for Skye today, and she just pushed me away. I know she willingly went in my arms at first, but it lasted just a couple of minutes, maybe even less. Then she walked away from me, as if she doesn’t even need me anymore. I know she’s strong and doesn’t want me to be the one always helping her, but damn it. Is it too much to ask to let me hold her for a little while? Just a little while, that’s all I was asking for.
I take another drag of my cigarette and keep the smoke in my lungs until I feel the strong need of air making me dizzy. I let the smoke out slowly, watching the volutes going up toward the ceiling.
I glance at my backpack again, and this time I stretch out to reach it. I’ve decided to drink that bottle of fucking Jack, or at least just a sip or two to settle my nerves and give me a little buzz.
Knocks at the door stop me just before my fingers come into contact with the old backpack. I frown, put the cigarette in my mouth and stand up. Jack can wait.
My heart beats faster, louder, making my ears buzz.
*
SKYE
I knock at the door and ignore the little voice in my head yelling at me to run away. But I can’t leave things so unresolved with Duke, not after he was there today when I needed him. I still think it’s the best thing for him if we’re not together anymore, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t feel the need to say a real goodbye and thank you. It’s the least I can do after everything he’s done for me.
He opens the door, a cigarette in his mouth and his eyes red, swollen from tears it seems. I look away, my eyes watering again—like I didn’t cry enough in Dr. Marshall’s office. Maybe I should have listened to the voice in my head.
“Skye?” The cigarette is now in his left hand, the only place where I let my eyes wander. I can’t look at his handsome face, the pain so clearly visible here. He’s usually very cautious with his emotions, not always showing them and often keeping a mask up for everyone, but right here, right now in front of me there’s no mask. He lets me see the raw pain inside him. He can’t hide it, not when it’s so powerful.
“Do you have a minute?”
He doesn’t say a word and walks back inside, the door open to let me decide if I want to walk in or leave. He knows me; he knows I’m craving to run away because it’s too damn difficult to face this situation. But I want to do this last thing for Duke, but also for me.
I close the door behind me and sigh with relief at Grayson’s empty side. He’ll probably be back soon, so I have to hurry. And I need to meet my parents in my room. In fact, I should already be there.
“Are you okay? I mean …” he stutters before he stops himself, throwing his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table. He sits heavily on his unmade bed.
I don’t really know where to sit, so instead I stay standing in front of him. It’s just like in high school when I had to talk in front of the class. I feel flustered, self-conscious and can’t help but move from one foot to the other again and again, like a pendulum.
“I’m …” I catch myself and think back to what Dr. Marshall told me only an hour ago. I have to be true to my feelings. “No, I’m not.”
He stands up and walks to me, not daring to touch, but his eyes are doing it. They caress me, warming me and making my blood boil in my veins like nobody else can. He tugs on his hair. This time it’s not because he’s nervous or lost, but I think it’s because he’s refraining from touching me, from hugging me.
“But that’s not why I’m here, Duke.” I take a deep breath and let the tears fall without trying to hide behind my wild hair, without feeling like an idiot crying like this. That’s how I feel, and it can’t be wrong to just … feel. “I wanted to thank you.”
He releases his grip on his hair and catches a tear with the very tip of his thumb, his eyes darker than ever. My whole face tingles with this simple touch, and I fight against my body to not close my eyes and lean into him. Enough with the mixed signals I send.
“Don’t, Skye.” His voice breaks, and with it my heart ceases to beat for a full second. “I don’t want to hear a goodbye from your mouth. I get it, it’s … over.” He takes a step away from me. “We won’t see each other after I graduate, but I don’t want to say goodbye because you might think that it’ll get easier soon, that it’s best for me or I don’t know what other fucking thing you persuaded yourself with. But I don’t feel that way. So, in a month I’ll be in San Francisco like you want me. Even if it’s the last thing I do for you, I have to do it because I love you so fucking much that I’m willing to break my own fucking heart just for you. Fucking irony, right?”
I’ve never heard him say fuck so many times all in one go, but it’s the way he says it that digs an even bigger hole in my chest. His deep, low voice is harsh, and yet broken. It makes me doubt myself.
“I’m not right for you.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you could have let me decide that.” He turns away from me, and I can’t just leave without a last look at his face, without locking my eyes with his one last time. I walk over
to him and walk around to face him.
“I love you too, Duke.” I don’t look at the necklace around his neck because I don’t want to think about Juliet as I’m spending the last time with Duke. It’s just us, like it should have been from the beginning.
“Why then?” He runs a hand through my hair, making my legs wobbly. “It’s irrational, Skye. Even if we spend so much time fighting, I don’t understand why you’d break up with me.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to show you everything about me.” I try to imprint in my head the feel of the weight and the heat of his hand now tracing my jaw. I bottle up in my memory the smell of smoke, shampoo and musk that is all Duke. And I paint in my head the lines of his face, of his tattoos. “Good luck in San Francisco.”
I break the contact and run away, my feet pounding on the floor, down the stairs and outside that I don’t even see where I’m headed through my tears. And I scream my hate, my pain and frustration. Because I do hate myself, and I’m ready to let everybody know it. So I yell harder.
*
DUKE
I close the door by punching the thin wooden panel, not even cringing at the pain erupting in my knuckles. My breathing is ragged, breaking the silence of the empty room. Even though my hands are clenched into tight fists, I feel them shaking as an intense cold is settling all over me.
She came to fucking say goodbye.
Goodbye.
A broken sob tears out of my chest as I let myself fall on my bed, my hands blindly searching for my backpack and opening it in one motion as soon as I hike it in my lap. I fumble inside and finally feel my fingers coming into contact with the bottle of Jack. I grab it and push away my backpack.
I barely glance at the amber colored liquid in the bottle before opening it and bringing it to my mouth. I swallow a few times, letting the burn of the whisky do its work. Then I recap it and snort at myself. Pathetic. I’m the cliché of the guy with a broken heart. I’ve got a cigarette almost finished in one hand, a bottle of Jack opened in the other, and I’m alone in my room.
Fix Up Page 20