You Found Me

by Joel Cobbs

  “SURPRISE!” they all yelled. I didn't know what to do. They could all see me crying, but I didn't care. I was overwhelmed. “Guys,” I said through the laughter and tears. “Guys I don't know what to say. I really don't.”

  “I guess some things never change,” Big John said. “We kinda planned on that.” Everyone laughed, even me.

  “We just wanted to give you a warm welcome,” Lisa said. “We all missed you,” Max said, “whether you believe us or not.”

  “Oh I'm believing it.” I smiled. “You have no idea.” We all started laughing and gathering around the table.

  Chapter Nine

  Fear can be a terrible thing. Sometimes it eats you alive, other times it's just a small voice just whispering discouraging things in your ears. You want it to stop. You want it to leave you alone, but it refuses. There it remains.

  I was afraid. I'd been home for a day, barely eighteen hours, and I was scared. I hadn't tried anything, didn't give off any signals, didn't do anything. But for some reason I was afraid.

  My friends were there for me. I had a million Facebook messages when I got back, more than I could count. People, everyone I knew it seemed, had sent there love and thoughts and prayers.

  Where had they been months ago when I needed them? Were they going to disappear again just like they once did? These were the thoughts that plagued my mind. Was it all gonna end? Was everything gonna go back to the way it once was? I didn't want it to. I wasn't sure I could handle it if it did.

  I was back in front of the piano. I don't know why, but it gave me some sort of comfort. We've had one for years, tucked away quietly up against the wall of the library. I'd forced myself into lessons and Mom forced me to continue when I wanted to quit. I hadn't touched it in a long time.

  Sure, every once and a while I walked up to it and banged out a song, but I didn't pursue it as much as I once had. Had that been a mistake? Probably and probably not. I'm not really sure.

  But now I was back to it. Playing it seem to give me some sort of comfort. I know it was crazy, but it did. Playing it really helped. I played scales; only scales.

  C. D. E. F. G. A. B. C. and back down again. It was a slow process. I didn't move like I once had. It took a lot of work and a lot of effort. I moved slowly. Up and down. Up and down. I was glad to have the house to myself. I knew it was annoying, my slow playing. The pain made it feel as if I was starting all over again.

  The medication was placed in one of those medical containers labeled “Morning” and “Night”, the rest kept by Dad, just as expected. It was hidden somewhere so I wouldn't find it, which was fine with me. I wasn't going to look for it. While part of me still hurt, the other half didn't. The other half wanted more out of life. It knew I was better than the cuts I'd inflicted. It knew better.

  Work had been cool with everything that had happened, but I couldn't do it anymore. I called my boss and told him I wasn't coming back. He wasn't really upset with me. He said he understood and said he hoped everything was okay. I thanked him and hung up the phone. Me too...

  By the time Dad came home, I'd given up on the piano for the day. I hadn't made any progress, other than remembering where to put my fingers for all the scales. I was up in my room watching some random movie I don't even remember. I hadn't given up on collecting movies, just didn't have enough time.

  “How're you?” he asked.

  “I'm okay. I'm trying to play the piano again.”

  “How's that going?”

  “I guess it's going well. With all the pain and everything it's not as easy as it could be, but I'm fine with that.” He nodded. He'd brought home two subs from Subway. Mine was the meatball, his was some veggie wrap. “How was your day?”

  “It was pretty good. Trying to get back into the swing of things.” It felt like I'd disrupted everything with what had happened. I felt sort of guilty, but at the same time, I didn't. I knew it'd been an accident and I really wanted him to realize that. I knew it wasn't going to happen, but it bothered me nonetheless. “So what're you trying to play?”

  “I'm just working on scales right now. I moved pretty slowly today. There was a piano when I was in...recovery.” I'm not really sure why I paused, but I did. “I'd played it a little and decided to try and play again.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said between bites.

  “Yeah, I doubt I'll get anywhere near what I used to be.”

  “Ya never know.”

  We talked a little about his day, all the stress that was going on. He said he'd managed to help most of the panic attacks that'd happened and didn't expected anything else. I finished and told him I was going to my room. He hesitated, then let me go.

  The rest of the night would go just as I expected. I would finish watching the movie, take my meds and go to bed. I really wasn't sure what to expect out of life. I just wanted that peace and stability I'd felt for that moment, that brief moment, during recovery. There was something about it that made me feel good. And I wanted to feel good. I really wanted to feel good.

  ------

  My first session with Dr. O'Nassis was rather productive. We talked about my stay in the hospital, my journey back with Dad, and my stay in recovery.

  “It was interesting,” I told him. “Some time I couldn't wait to leave. I counted the seconds as they went by, hoping they would magically speed up and fly by. Other times, I didn't wanna leave.”

  “Why's that?” I paused.

  “I had a moment of...revelation I guess you could say.”

  “'Revelation'?” He had a look of confusion and curiosity.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don't really know how to explain it exactly, but...it was there.”

  “What was?” I told him about the group therapies and the “Round Table” discussions.

  “Those're fairly common,” he said. “Most times they're larger and can go on for hours.” I explained to him what happened when it was my turn. How I tried to communicate what it was that was going on with me and trying to figure out what it was I felt.

  “It was kinda scary, to be honest. There I was, sitting in this room with these people, people I didn't even know, and they were dissecting me. They were picking apart who and what I was and laying it out for me to see. They showed me...me.”

  “What did you learn from what they showed you?” I paused. I was torn between telling him and just leaving it inside and making up something.

  “I was angry,” I told him. “I am angry. I'm angry about a lot of things. I can't really say how long it will take me to get over it.”

  “Do you think you will?”

  “I hope so. Anything's possible I suppose”

  “Of course. What did you and your father learn?”

  “We learned,” I started, then paused. “I learned that it's not his fault. I don't know why, but for the longest time I thought it was his fault. I...blamed him for not being there, though he tried, he tried so hard.”

  I was silent for a moment. I didn't know what to say. I really didn't wanna be this open, but for some reason I was. Maybe I needed it and just didn't realize it. Maybe I needed to admit to him what was really going; admit what I'd really been going through. Maybe.

  “Sounds like you learned a lot in there.” “I did. I really did.”

  “What're you doing now?”

  I told him about quitting work, which he said was probably a good decision given my circumstances, but wanted to know what I was going to be doing with all that free time, obviously worried I was going to be doing things I probably shouldn't.

  I told him about the piano and how I was trying to get back into it. I told him how struggling it was, yet at the same time how much comfort it seemed to bring me.

  “I can't explain it. Honestly? It's like the feeling I got from the cutting. I know the cutting was bad, I know it was a mistake from the beginning, but at the same time the...the satisfaction it brought me was something terrible and wonderful at
the same time.”

  “So you admit to cutting?”

  “Yes, sir. I know it was stupid, but there was too much. There was too much going on and hitting me at once. I couldn't handle all of it. Pain, stress, depression, hurt, loss. Everything.”

  Dr. O'Nassis seemed sort of pleased with this. I wasn't sure if he really was or not, but he had a look about him that gave me the impression that he was.

  “There are many different ways to cope with loss. Many different ways to handle pain. Many of them are good, and just as many are bad. I think you've learned a lot with what you've been through. It's good to know you're trying something else. What sort of rules did the Dawson City facility put in place?” I'm sure he already knew, but I had no reason not to tell him. I was tired of fighting.

  I went over all the stuff they'd told me. The razors, medicines, cold water, everything. How they'd checked to make sure I didn't do anything. There were even locks on the cabinets that had the knives in them. They wanted to make sure I did nothing, not a thing to cause any sort of damage to myself.

  “I was told somewhere along the way I was lucky to even have my right hand, especially with how bad the cut was.”

  “How'd you do it?”

  “I don't remember,” I told him. “I've been over it and over it and over it, and it just won't come to mind. I'm sure it was something terrible, something graphic to have put me in the position it did. But...I just can't remember.”

  “That's not unusual,” he said. “A lot of times after a dramatic incident it can be very hard to remember things. I've had patients who've been hit by cars, been shot, and much more, and none of them can remember it. It did, however, have a terrible aftereffect on them, thus they come here.” I nodded. It made me feel a little better to know I wasn't alone in this world after all. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Our time was almost up.

  “What're you doing after this?”

  “My friends are taking me to see The Dark Knight.”

  “Really? They got tickets?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They've had them for a while. They'd planned on surprising me a while back, but things took a different turn.”

  “Well, it still seems like the idea is there.” “Huh?”

  “As in they were still able to surprise you. Sure it took a little longer than they'd expected, but the point is they surprised you.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess you’re right.” There was a moment of silence as we stared at each other.

  “Why don't we go ahead and call it a day. I think we've done quite a bit for one day and I'm sure you don't wanna be late.” We both stood up. I shook his hand.

  “Thank you,” I said. He smiled at me.

  “No problem. Glad to have you back. Hope things turn out a little differently here.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Me too.” I turned and walked out the door. I smiled at the receptionist, who was busy and didn't even notice. It was raining. Not very hard, more like sprinkling. The weatherman had predicted a strong storm front heading our way and rain was to follow.

  The ground was wet, the pavement making a squishing sound beneath my feet. The rain felt good. I'd missed it. It and the strange sense of making things more depressing than they really were. The black, the rain, the lightning and thunder, all of it sound terrible, but it made me feel good. When you go without something, even if it's just for a few days, you come to appreciate it more because you never know when you'll see it again.

  Max was waiting for me. With my medication still needing to level out (as in my body adjusting to it) and having just been released from the hospital, my driving privileges had been suspended. It was okay with me. My friends had been understanding and offered to take me places when needed. I was happy they were being so supportive. I needed it now, more than I had just a few months ago.

  “Hey, Max.”

  “Hey, Rob.” He shook my hand. “You all done?” “Yeah, for today anyway.”

  “Alrighty, let's go.” I climbed in his car. Max had always had this obsession with his car, for as long as he'd been driving. The outside was nice, with the engine being tweaked and changed roughly once a week. The inside was two different stories, as strange as that might sound.

  One part of the inside was nice. He'd bought glow in the dark spray paint and made his own floor mats for the whole car. Then, he had black lights that shined on them and really brought them out.

  The other part, not so much. Trash was everywhere. Bottles that could've been weeks old. Wrappers from more candy types than a gas station carries. In the backseat were the two cans of glow in the dark spray paint he'd used. It was rather humorous to know the person who was terrified of his car getting scratched had more garbage on the inside than a small garbage can.

  “So which theater we going to?” I asked as I tried to squeeze my way inside.

  “Probably the Rave. You up for that?”

  “Sounds fine to me.” My feet were sitting on six bottles, five wrappers and what seemed to be the remains of a Happy Meal, which I decided not to ask about. I buckled my seat belt and braced myself.

  Max lived up to his name, driving as fast as he could while trying to not get caught. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't. Thankfully, every time I was in it'd worked. I'm not sure I could keep a straight face when the cop walked up and asked “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

  “So,” he started, then paused. Since getting out of the hospital, conversation topics were a difficult thing to begin. Friends and family alike didn't know what to say and what they couldn't say. I'd tried to let them know it was okay. “What was it like? Being at the...whatever you call it.” I smiled.

  “It was interesting,” I said. “Imagine being in a strict class twenty four/seven with the teacher refusing to take her eyes off of you.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “I had a nightmare like that once.”

  “Really? Who was the teacher?”

  “You don't wanna know.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “Nothing I'm proud of, let's say that.” I laughed. That was the good thing about Max. You could never tell if he was lying or telling the truth, but it was humorous either way.

  We turned on Airport Road and went over the mountain. Huntsville is a pretty spread out sort of town. Not too bad, but more so than most cities its size. While going over the mountain you can see a good ways. The trees on the side of the hills were beautiful. In three places, the trees had been cut away and houses put up. There are only three visible from where we were, so there could be more on the other side.

  We passed the Target shopping center on our right. It was pretty large despite being in what seemed like a random place. There was a high school further down, but if you didn't know that, you'd swear someone threw a dart at a map and built it there. The Rave was behind it. We turned at the light and pulled into the parking lot.

  “They said they'd save us a parking space,” he said, “but judging from the crowd here I'm not believing it.” The movie had come out today. The midnight showing was large, record breaking from what I'd been told. I was excited. It was the first time I'd been to the movies in a good while. We parked what felt like a mile from the front door.

  “And guess what?” he asked. “It's raining.”

  “Oh yeah. Gotta love the rain.” Though I sounded sarcastic, I really wasn't. I did love the rain. At one point I might have hated it, but now it was different. Now I liked it, loved it even. I'd been away from it and seen just how much it meant to me. “How'd you get tickets do this?”

  “We broke in and robbed the place then paid off the cops by giving them my little brother and said he was a serial killer.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Your brother is thirteen.”

  “I know. Not the brightest cops out there.” I laughed. I decided they either did that or just bought them ahead of time like most people. The rain was getting heavier so we walked faster. It wasn't helping though. I'm sure we could've ran and we'd get ju
st as wet.

  When we got to the front door, Lisa was waving at us. She was with Michael and Big John. There was a long line. The movie didn't start for a little while, so we were hoping to get good seats. When I saw the crowd, I wasn't really holding my breath on that. Max and I skipped the lines and presented our tickets.

  “Number 8 will be down the hall on the left,” he said, pointing in that direction.

  “Thank you,” Max and I said, then we went over to our friends. Lisa practically jumped on me when she gave me a hug.

  “How're you?” she asked in a rush.

  “I'm good. My neck's another story.”

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” she said, and made a puppy dog face. I smiled.

  “It's okay.” I gave Michael and Big John hugs. “How long have you guys been here?”

  “For a while,” Michael said. “There's a whole bunch of people here but we haven't gone to the room it's playing in yet.”

  “I keep telling him to, but he won't do it,” Big John said. I laughed. “So yeah, how have you been?”

  “Pretty good. Not really doing anything, I guess.”

  “You gonna come back to school this fall,” Lisa asked.

  “Depends on what the doctors say, but probably. Don't see any reason why not.”

  “Cause the teachers are lame,” Max said. I laughed.

  “Yeah, well, there is that. We gonna get any snacks?”

  “I don't know about y'all,” Big John said, “but I am!”

  “Right behind you,” Michael and Max said in unison. Lisa and I followed.

  “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “Yeah,” I told her. “I'm doing better. A lot better than I was.” She smiled.

  “That's good. And today is our treat so don't worry about paying for anything.”

  “You guys don't have to do that.”

  “We know,” Michael said. “That's why you better be nice.”

  “I'll be sure to remember that,” I said as I laughed.