Rise

by Leslie McCauley

  When I’m ready, I meet Matt once again in the kitchen and force down a few bites, before putting my hand in the air as though I surrender. I can’t eat anymore. This is the most I have had to eat in days. He doesn’t protest and instead stands and grabs his car keys from the kitchen counter and without a word, holds my hand and we walk to the car.

  The support group is at the hospital in one of their meeting rooms. As we approach, I begin to get butterflies in my stomach. I feel like I am in high school about to give a very important presentation or something. I almost feel as though I could be sick. As if reading my mind, Matt reassures me. “You don’t have to say anything, remember. Just sit and listen. If you want to keep coming back great and if you don’t, that’s alright too,” he speaks gently and kisses me on the cheek. “Now go,” he gives me a little shove in the door. “I’ll be in the car. See you in an hour.”

  I scan the room briefly and get myself a cup of coffee from the back of the room. I notice that people are wearing name tags, but I don’t read any of them. I keep my head down and make my way to where the chairs are lined up. There are six rows with five chairs in each. I choose the very far back left corner. An older gentleman approaches me and introduces himself as the counselor that runs the group. I am barely listening to him. I am just looking at his crooked bright yellow teeth. He has a gray comb-over with no more than ten hairs left to cover his baldness. I try and judge the color of his eyes, but they are hidden by tinted glasses. I look down at his feet and he is wearing a pair of very dirty sneakers. Odd, he has dress slacks on. I nod dismissively at him and he moves along, but not before handing me a name tag which I don’t apply.

  Everyone takes their seats and I have yet to look anyone else in the eye except for Yellow Teeth. The meeting is underway, but not much translates. I am completely tuned out. I have my eyes to the floor and slowly scan the feet of the people in front of me. There is a woman wearing way too expensive and slutty stiletto heels. Then there is the Flip Flop girl, not quite warm enough for that. A man with very clean, all too anally clean in fact, white Adidas with black stripes on them. I notice he has jeans that cover most of his shoe. He must be young. A few rows behind him I notice very petite white orthopedic looking shoes and powder blue polyester pants. It must be an old woman, but again I don’t look up. I am almost afraid to put a person with the shoe. We have all been through the same trauma in some way or another. Even though I haven’t met any of them I feel a connection and I don’t want to feel their sadness.

  Before I know it, the meeting is over. I only know this because my new acquaintances stand in unison. I decide not to say anything tonight, but I quickly make my exit, picking up a flyer on the way out. I think I want to come back here. I don’t even know why.

  When I exit into the parking lot, I see Matthew sitting in his car playing around on his phone. He doesn’t see me until I open the car door and I think I startle him.

  “Hey, how did it go?” He looks as though he is holding his breath.

  “Good, I mean I didn’t really do anything but sit there. I think I would come back,” my answer is clipped but I don’t know what else I can say about it.

  Matt takes me home and once again I am alone. I heat up a small plate of leftovers that my mother has made and get myself my nightly, or daily rather, bottle of wine. I only eat a few bites and decide to limit myself to one glass of wine. It has made me sleepy enough that I could try and turn in. As I walk down the hallway, I pause at Evan’s door. Nothing has been disturbed since the day he left me. I gently climb into his crib and start up the mobile. I can still smell him. I wonder how long that will last? I hope for a very long time. I am staring up at the spinning sea creatures. It makes me feel a bit dizzy on account of the wine. I have a few things I would like to do tomorrow. I need to call Jessica. I want to talk to both of my parents. And most importantly I want to buy a gun.

  Chapter 21

  Recovery

  I am in a gun store and have no idea what the hell I am doing. The clerk approaches me gingerly, knowing I do not belong here. He clears his throat before speaking. “Um, is there something I can help you find Ma’am?”

  “Oh, I don’t exactly know what I am looking for. Maybe you can help me? I am just looking for something for protection. I want something for my home that I can learn to use easily.” I am talking incredibly fast. I feel a slight spike of adrenaline. I am totally crazy.

  “Well, there is paperwork that needs to be filled out first, so that you can be issued a license. Might I suggest going to a shooting range? Try out a few different firearms. They can help you find out what fits right for you personally.”

  “Ok, that sounds like something I would like to do. I mean I need to learn how to use one anyway,” I say matter of factly. That sounds like just what I need. To shoot something.

  I collect the paperwork from the nice man and head to the address he has written down for me. I have yet to call anyone today, but given the amount of activity I did yesterday, they should be happy. Before I know it, it will be summer, which means Jessica will be getting married soon. I am sure she is pissed at me for not calling her. I owe her a conversation and an apology.

  I decide I want to try out this shooting this now. As I reach my destination, I realize I am in a very bad part of town, but I am not scared at all. Probably because I don’t care about myself anymore.

  When I enter the large building there is a wall covered from top to bottom with different types of guns. Big ones, little ones, even different colored guns. I had no idea there were so many to choose from. There is a man standing behind the counter. He looks harmless. He is an older gentleman with thin wire-framed bifocals. He is completely bald, but it looks partially to be by choice. You can see a faint regrowth of hair where he has shaven. I notice a tattoo on his upper arm poking out from his left sleeve. I approach and he greets me with a warm smile. I speak first.

  “Hi, I wanted to try some shooting, please.”

  He looks at me like I am a complete idiot. Of course, I do. I am at a shooting range for Christ’s sake. “Sure thing darlin’ is there any one, in particular, you want to use?” He turns waving his hands at the wall behind him.

  “Uh, I really don’t know what I am doing. This is my first time.” I blush as the words come out of my mouth.

  “Well then, let’s start with something small,” he grabs a silver one from behind him and it looks a little intimidating still. “I’ll accompany you so that I can show you the proper safety features and how to use it, okay?” I nod and follow him through a set of double doors. When we enter the next room, he hands me a set of thick headphone looking things and I put them around my neck.

  Next, he gives me a pair of yellow-tinted glasses and I put them on.

  “Okay,” he begins with a sigh. “First of all, this revolver is a .38 special. I would recommend this for first-timers,” he smirks a bit. “These are the bullets for this particular gun,” he holds one up and puts it into the open chamber. He turns me to face the shadowed paper man at the end of a long narrow aisle and stands behind me. “Put your ear protectors on,” he instructs me. He holds the gun in front of both of us and brings it to eye level. I can feel him breathing on my neck, but I don’t care. The adrenaline begins to pulse through my body. “This is where you cock the gun.” Click, click “And you are ready to fire,” his voice is muffled through the headset. He does not let go of my hands but positions them where they should be. We take aim at the target. “Now gently squeeze the trigger and get ready.” I adjust my feet so that I am planted into place. My heart is racing, and I can feel goosebumps spring up on my arms. “Ready?” I nod and squint my eyes in preparation for the blast. I feel his right index finger over mine and together we squeeze. The bullet releases with a loud echo through the room. The sound is massive. The force is not as great as I had expected, but it is enough for me to be pushed back into this man I have just met.

  “Oh my god, that was incredible!” I shout. I feel kind
of lightheaded from the rush. I feel like I am high or something. That was the most in control I have felt in a long time. “Can I try myself?” I ask out of breath.

  “Sure thing,” he hands me a bullet and then steps aside to allow me some independence. I place the bullet in the chamber just like he showed me and pull the revolver up to aim. I take a deep breath and cock the gun. I exhale and breathe deep again this time holding it in. I squeeze the trigger and I am knocked back, a little harder this time. I exhale loudly and place the gun down in front of me. The nice man moves the target back to us, and I see I missed the center by a hell of a lot, but at least I hit the paper. I turn to look at him and he shrugs his shoulders at me. “Not bad for your first time.”

  “Thanks,” I am grinning. I am going to get good at this. I just know it. I have to. “Can I stay and practice a little while?”

  “Of course, that’s what why you’re here. Stay as long as you like. There is a button here that you can press if you need me for any reason. And here are some bullets. Have fun,” he winks.

  “Thank you, um…” I don’t know how to address him.

  “Hank,” he answers.

  “Hank, thank you.” His name suits him. He looks tough.

  He nods and leaves me on my own. I am the only one left in the huge cold room. I am feeling the adrenaline build again. I load up the gun and turn to face the shadow man again. This time I picture his face on the paper. Sam with the look on his face the day we were in court. That cocky, confident smirk on his fucking face. I raise the gun again and this time I take my time when I aim. The rhythm of the gun is so exciting. Click, click, boom. Click, click, boom. I repeat the process over and over until all the bullets are spent and then I load it up again. I repeat this process until I look down and the box is empty. I immediately hit the button that I was instructed would get me Hank’s assistance. When he enters the room, he looks a little confused. “Problem dear?”

  “No, I’m just out of bullets,” I am panting and sweating.

  “Ah, okay that was fast. I am going to have to start charging you now, okay?” I nod quickly. Just get me some more bullets! I am getting anxious. When he brings me more, I begin my therapy yet again. Firing and firing and reloading again. Before I know it, this box is empty as well. I look up at the target and press the button to bring it toward me. There is barely anything left of the black and white sheet. I pull it down and put another in its place. I press the call button again and Hank enters this time with two boxes of ammo and without a word, places them next to me. He smiles at me and shakes his index finger like a parent warning a child. I am a bit addicted to this Hank, yes. I get what you are trying to tell me. Slow down. Once I have finished off the other two boxes, I am proud of the progress I have made with my aim. I decide I should finish for the day. I still have some things I want to do.

  When I walk out of the isolated room, I see that it is dark outside. Already? I look over at Hank and he shakes his head. “I don’t think I have ever had someone in there that long, let alone a beginner. You must have a lot of anger in you, young lady.” You have no idea, Hank.

  “How much do I owe you, Hank?”

  “Don’t worry about it. But if you plan on doing that next time you will be paying.” Wow, that is nice of him.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. He must get a lot of angry people in here. He seems to know that I really needed this.

  When I arrive home my father’s car is in the driveway. Jesus, I need to get my key back from them. When I walk in, he is sitting in the living room with a glass in his hand. He doesn’t usually drink but it looks like he is tonight.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I sit next to him on the couch and offer a weak smile.

  “I was worried. What have you been doing? Your mother said you called her yesterday.” His eyes are that sad gold color again.

  “I was just out. I went to a support group last night and I’ll keep going every week if I feel up to it., I offer the most information I have since Evan's death.

  “Well, that’s good. As long as you aren’t holed up in your room for days at a time,” he sighs. “Do you want anything to eat?”

  “No, but I will join you in a drink.” He opens his mouth to protest and then closes it again. I open another bottle of red and realize it is my last bottle in the house. I’ll have to go get some more tomorrow. This will have to do for tonight. I pour myself a glass almost to the rim and have half of it gone before I join him. We are both silent for a few moments enjoying our drinks. He is the first to speak.

  “I am so sorry that you are going through this. I just want you to be happy. I know it seems impossible right now, but believe me, you deserve happiness and you will get it. God never puts on us more than we can handle.” I have heard these words from both of my parents my entire life. I used to believe it.

  “I know Dad.” He doesn’t believe me. “I appreciate you and Mom paying my bills and when I am working again, I will pay you back I promise.”

  He lets out a quick laugh, “No, you won’t. We don’t want you to. You take all the time in the world. We just want you to be healthy and happy. I mean it.”

  “Where is Mom anyway?” I say trying to change the subject.

  He shakes his head in frustration. “She has thrown herself into work. I hardly ever see her,” he looks so sad.

  “I realized the last few days that you and Mom have lost something important too Dad. I just can’t be supportive of you right now. I am too lost myself to try and make anyone else feel better,” tears threaten, and I have another sip before he notices.

  “I know Nettie, I know.” The ice in his glass clinks as he takes the last sip. He leans forward and places the empty drink on my coffee table and then sighs.

  “I am going to go home,” he looks at me and smiles. “Call me tomorrow please, and just check-in.”

  “I will.” I don’t move or walk him to the door as I normally would, and he quietly leaves.

  “Alone again.” I tip up my glass emptying it and pour myself another. I feel like I made a little more progress today. All I can think of is how empowered I felt today with that gun. I am going to be a hell of a shot by the time I come face to face with Sam. A warmth spreads from deep inside me. Anger, excitement, and pain. All rolled into one. I can’t wait for that day. I imagine it in my mind. Him standing in front of me with those cold red eyes, the gun pointed right between them. Maybe I won’t shoot him in the head. Maybe I will make him suffer first, like he has made me suffer. Would that make me a monster too? No. I shake my head. That would make me human. A woman violated and ruined. A mother robbed of her only child.

  Broken and left alone. That’s how I want to see him before he goes. Broken and alone. I replay the fantasy over and over again in my head. Each time it changes. Each time it ends the same. Him dead and me standing over his lifeless body, smiling. Relishing in the fact that I have won.

  Chapter 22

  Hello, My Name Is

  I arrive at the hospital for my second support meeting and this time I am looking forward to it. I know it will be quiet time for me not to have to deal with anyone else. As I make way into the room I look straight at the floor. I am not ready to talk yet. Not only do I want to stay silent around this group, but I don’t need one of these people cornering me, either. Luckily, the seat I occupied last week is still available and I sit quickly. I don’t bother with the coffee they are serving, it tasted terrible. I opt to bring my own this evening.

  I make myself comfortable and sip on my tall hazelnut blend. It is divine. After a beat, I hear the director begin his same speech from last week and I settle on what I think will be my weekly routine. I people watch. Well, I suppose I footwear watch. The woman in the all too sexy spiked heels is there again in the same spot, only today instead of black heels she is wearing bright red leather slingbacks. I move my eyes to my right and again see Adidas Man. Same shoes as before and it looks like the same jeans as well. Once again, the whites on his shoes are impeccably clea
n. This week though he is sitting back a row further than he was. I continue to look around the room and notice that Orthopedic Shoes isn’t here, but instead, there is a pair of brown men’s dress shoes. Wingtip oxfords, it looks like. I noticed that the director is finished speaking and Hooker Heels rises. I start playing music in my own head to make myself relax. Soon she is finished, and Adidas takes his turn. By this time, I am on my third song and I am imagining that I’m relaxing on a beach somewhere all by myself with only the music in my head and a drink in my hand.

  I am brought back from vacation by weak applause and I realize our time is finished. I hear everyone speaking at once. They are going through their goodbyes. I don’t know if I will ever speak to these people or not. I don’t really care right now. Maybe in the future, I’ll find some friends here. We’ll see.

  After my meeting, I look at the clock and realize I can get in an hour or so at the shooting range if I hurry. I walk in and greet Hank with a smile.

  “How are you tonight Hank?”

  “I am well, dear. And yourself?” I can tell when he looks at me that he thinks I am crazy or damaged, or both. I have been here every day since my first time. I am addicted. I feel complete and total control and power when I am here.

  “Fine thanks.” I know the drill by now I enter through the doors and find my spot. Hank passes me the revolver. I haven’t bought it yet because I can’t decide if this is the right fit for my intentions. I am getting so used to it, that I may want something more powerful.

  The hour flies and before long there is rough and tough Hank over the intercom announcing that they are closing. I bring my target to me and notice that my aim is getting much better already. I see a few strays but overall, I would say he is dead. A slow smile spreads across my face. I don’t know who this woman is that is taking over me, but I like her. I like her better than the weak pathetic victim I was just months ago. I think I could get used to her.