Stay

by Jennifer Sucevic

  “Hmmm, that’s very interesting. Are you using your breathing techniques when you start to feel anxious?”

  I nod. “I do and they help to calm me down. And I’m always careful to stop when I feel agitated and mentally self-check. But lately, I’ve been feeling really good.”

  Great even.

  I’m not used to feeling this good. I hate to say it, but I’m kind of waiting for something to go wrong. Life just seems to be going a little too well for me right now.

  She breaks into my thoughts with another question. “And you’re still running?”

  I grin. “Yep. Three times a week.”

  Not only am I running with Cole three times a week but I also meet up with him twice a week to work out on the ice. We usually get to the rink around five in the morning before it even opens. It’s nothing short of amazing to have a full sheet of perfectly smooth ice all to myself. Those early morning sessions with Cole are usually the best part of my day.

  “Do you think that’s contributing to the way you’ve been feeling lately?” She continues studying me as she jots down a few notes on her pad of paper.

  “Yes,” but that isn’t the only reason, “definitely.” Nervously I nibble at my bottom lip knowing that I need to be honest with her. Because keeping secrets from your therapist defeats the entire purpose of having one. It doesn’t escape me that I’m hesitant to bring Cole up with her.

  Dr. Thompson continues studying me in that quiet, soothing way of hers. “Is there something else I should know about?”

  Over the course of the last month, I’ve really grown to value Dr. Thompson’s opinion. I know without a doubt that she has my best interest in mind and it helps to hear an objective perspective on some of the issues I’m struggling with.

  “There is something else.” Someone else…

  “Ah ha…” With a raised brow she silently waits for me to continue.

  It’s all I can do to push those two little words out into the air between us. “A guy.”

  Her voice doesn’t change as she clarifies, “A new one? Or the one from before?”

  I gulp remembering how Cole triggered two anxiety attacks. Well, a full-fledged one and a sort-of one. Although I’m pretty sure that’s splitting hairs at this point.

  “The one from before,” I quietly admit. Fidgeting under her steady gaze, I wait for the censure I’m sure will follow that statement.

  Instead she nods her head thoughtfully before jotting down a few more notes. “Have you been spending a lot of time together?”

  I hesitate because I’m so afraid she’s going to suggest that I break things off with him. That I should be focusing on myself and school instead of a new relationship. Even though I don’t want to hear the words, it’s unfortunately what the tiny voice in my head keeps whispering. “Yes.”

  She reemphasizes, “And no anxiety attacks?”

  I shake my head. “No, none at all.” I can’t imagine having another attack with Cole. His presence actually calms me now. I feel so at ease with him.

  She takes a deep breath as if contemplating something before finally asking, “Are you two sleeping together?”

  Feeling heat rush to the surface of my cheeks, I quickly shake my head. “No.” Then I add, “But I’ve spent the night with him a few times.” I feel like I need to point out that we aren’t rushing into anything. “We’re taking our relationship really slow and he’s okay with that.”

  Hope flares within me when she doesn’t immediately suggest that I stop seeing him. Because I like Cole. More than I’ve ever liked anyone else before. Even though we’ve both agreed not to rush what’s happening between us, I know exactly where this is heading and I don’t want it to end.

  “Well, it certainly sounds like this relationship is serious.”

  I blow out a deep steady breath before a small smile curves my lips upward. “I think it might be.” And until that very moment, I didn’t realize just how much I wanted it to be serious.

  “Have you shared your history with him?” Even though she asks the question lightly, it sits heavily between us. And just like that, a huge weight settles in the middle of my chest.

  Fidgeting with my hands, I answer quietly, “No.” We’re taking things slowly, I remind myself… he’s okay with not knowing everything right now. At some point I’ll have to tell him… but we aren’t there yet.

  Nodding her head, she asks more specifically, “Have you told him anything about the last year at all?” Her direct gaze is unwavering.

  “No.” My voice becomes smaller.

  I just need a little bit more time before I confide in him. Before I expect him to swallow and accept everything I did. Everything that happened.

  Taking off her thin glasses, she sets them down carefully on the table next to her before holding my gaze. “Cassidy, if you’re going to have a real relationship with someone, you need to be honest with them. Is there a reason you haven’t been?”

  Every last drop of happiness that I had been brimming with ten short minutes ago drains from my body leaving me to feel weighted down and restless. Closing my eyes, I shake my head before shrugging helplessly. “I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid that he won’t be able to deal with everything that happened. I don’t want his opinion of me to change and it will.” A few gurgles of disheartened laughter bubble up within me. “How could it not?”

  “Opening yourself up, becoming vulnerable to another human being is a scary prospect. But I also know that you need to be honest with him. And with yourself. You can’t have an authentic relationship with another person if you’re keeping parts of yourself locked away. He needs to accept all of you, not just the pieces you choose to show him.”

  Unconsciously I tug at the collar of my shirt feeling my chest start to tighten up. “He understands that I’m not ready to open up just yet. We’ve talked about it. And I’m going to tell him- I really am. I just want to give him a little more time to get to know the person I am now.”

  Silently contemplative, she finally voices the words I’ve been dreading since I first sat down in her office. “Then maybe you aren’t ready for this just yet. Perhaps your focus needs to be on you right now.” Her eyes search mine. “I know that’s difficult to hear but I think you need to give it some serious consideration.”

  Even though I knew those words were coming, they still hit me like a massive blow. My shoulders slump because deep down, in a place I haven’t wanted to acknowledge, I’ve secretly been pondering the very same thing. Hearing her say the words out loud means that I truly have to consider the merit of them.

  Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Cole eases his Mustang over to the side of the familiar tree lined street before cutting the engine. For just a moment we both sit silently staring at the red brick, two story house situated on a pretty corner lot. My breath hitches as I contemplate my childhood home.

  I’m having some serious second thoughts about what I’m intent on doing. And, truth be told, I’m feeling kind of guilty for dragging Cole into with me. He’s aware that there is tension between my parents and me but he has no idea just how bad it really is.

  “Ready?” His softly spoken word slices through the thick silence of the car.

  Taking a deep breath, I finally turn to meet his gaze.

  At this time of the day, both my parents should be at work, leaving the house empty. I’ve spent the previous week going round and round with myself about this. And what I keep coming back to is that I want my hockey gear. I’m tired of wearing crappy rental skates. What I don’t know is if my equipment is still here or if my dad actually got rid of it. Because almost ten months ago, that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. If that’s the case, then I’m pretty much screwed because there’s no way I can afford new equipment now.

  Stiffening my spine, I try shaking off the nerves that are dancing their way across my skin. But it’s easier said than done. “Yeah, come on.” With that
, I open the car door and start up the driveway to the white painted front door. My mom used to hide a key under the terracotta front planter for emergencies and I pray that hasn’t changed like so many other things.

  If it’s not there, then this mission is over and I’ll be stuck with cheap brown rental skates for the foreseeable future.

  I breathe a quick sigh of relief as my fingers close around cold metal. “It’s here.” With shaking fingers I pull it from under the large pot before sliding it into the brass lock. As I push open the front door, the stale air from within the house hits me like an unexpected blow to the gut.

  When I’d been forced to leave college last December, my father could barely stand to look at me, so they had arranged for me to live with my grandparents for about nine months before moving to Western in late August. I haven’t seen or spoken to my dad in all that time. My mom and two younger sisters had visited occasionally but it wasn’t very often. And those visits had usually ended up feeling stilted and awkward.

  Standing in the entryway of the house I’d grown up in and yet was unable to return to after the debacle that was my first freshman semester is just another devastating consequence that occurred. Unconsciously I rub my chest as I feel it tighten with thick waves of suffocating emotion.

  I almost jump out of my skin as Cole lays a gentle hand on my shoulder before squeezing it. “Are you okay?” His eyes carefully search my face. I think he’s beginning to recognize the signs of my anxiety, the ones that lead to an attack which should embarrass me but instead… it just makes me fall a little bit harder for him.

  In response, I suck in a shaky breath.

  Am I okay?

  I almost laugh. Hell no… I’m not okay. I want nothing more than to get out of here and never return. My heart is galloping, racing as if it just might pound its way right out of my chest. The ache there is building… intensifying…spreading its way slowly through my body.

  Closing my eyes, I silently recite the words in my head- deep breath in, slowly exhale out. Deep breath in, slowly exhale out. Over and over and over again.

  Even though Cole doesn’t say anything more, he keeps his hand on my shoulder as if to let me know that he’s here. Almost as if he’s anchoring me to him. The tightness in my chest slowly begins to loosen, receding like the tide.

  What I need to do is find my gear and hightail it back to school where I can breathe again. As a child, I never imagined the day would come when this house wasn’t my refuge. But the simple truth is that it’s not. This is now one more place where I don’t belong. An overwhelming sadness engulfs me at that thought before I quickly push it away.

  “I’m okay.” I say the words slowly trying to keep the strain from seeping into my voice. “Let’s check out the basement.” What I don’t add is that if my gear isn’t there, then my dad probably got rid of it pretty much like he got rid of me.

  As we move silently through the first floor towards the stairs that lead to the basement, Cole finds my fingers before clasping them in his own. Glancing over my shoulder, he gives me a reassuring smile. I give him a small one in return. Without him by my side, I don’t think I could have made the trip back here. I don’t think I could have faced the silent ghosts of my family.

  Even though I’m taking gear that is mine, it feels like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m breaking into my own house and stealing stuff that doesn’t belong to me. As much as I try to shake off the unsettling feeling, I just can’t.

  Once we make our way to the basement, I move to the furnace room which we also use for storage. Our family always jokingly referred to this room as a mini hockey store. My two little sisters dance and cheer, so other than shoes and costumes, they don’t have equipment to store. This room has always been for me and my dad. He grew up playing hockey and played Juniors right out of high school. Two years after that, he was forced to quit when he broke his leg in three different places. But he loved hockey too much to give it up. So he continued playing in beer leagues and when I started skating, he coached me until I left for college.

  I think that’s why my failure last year hit him so hard. But still… Even though he was disappointed, he should have been there for me. I had needed him… I had needed my family. Even though I fucked up, I had needed all of them to help pick me back up again.

  But that’s not what happened.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes once more. I’m pissed at myself for allowing all this BS back into my head. I may have disappointed my family… but they disappointed me as well. When I had needed them to stand by me, they had taken the easy way out and shipped me off, leaving me to deal with the fallout alone.

  My eyes fly open as Cole wraps his arms around me, holding me close to his warm hard body. He doesn’t ask questions, just continues holding me until I finally pull away before clearing my throat. I don’t know what it is about Cole that makes me feel so safe, but he does.

  “If they still have my gear, it would be here.”

  Cole finally glances around the shelving units my father built to house all our old equipment. It’s crammed with clear bins full of skates, socks, gloves, pants, shoulder pads, and jerseys. Fiberglass sticks take up a whole shelf as do the oversized bags.

  “Holy crap, it’s like a hockey store in here.” There’s just a touch of awe tinging his voice as his eyes fly around the room in amazement.

  One side of my mouth lifts slightly. “Yep.” I glance over at him. “My dad owns a hockey and lacrosse store in town.”

  He mouths, “Wow,” before rifling through some sticks. Pulling one out, he runs his fingers carefully over the shaft. “Do you know how expensive this one is?”

  His question is more rhetorical in nature because we both know just how costly that brand of stick is. Shaking my head, I feel some of the heaviness being lifted from me. I just need to focus on the task at hand and then get the hell out of here.

  “Do you see any of your old stuff?” He asks this question as he helps me search through bins.

  Taking another deep breath, I start rifling through clear plastic containers looking for the equipment I’d taken with me to school last year. “Not yet,” I mutter realizing that maybe, in his anger, my dad really had thrown everything out. I wouldn’t put it past him. I’d never seen him so pissed.

  Trying to be positive, Cole says, “Well, I think you could probably piecemeal some stuff together from all this and then we could look online for the rest. That would be the cheapest way to go.” He gives me a little wink. “We’ll raid the lost and found at the rink.”

  Scrunching up my face in disgust, I realize that I might not have a choice in the matter.

  “Yeah,” I finally admit. But I want my stuff. Everything fit me perfectly. Sure, maybe I could find a pair of gloves and definitely a stick in here. But skates? No way. I had outgrown all my old ones and hockey skates could run at least three hundred dollars a pair. And those were the cheap ones. Plus, I don’t really want to take anything that doesn’t belong to me. That would only piss my dad off more and I certainly don’t need that.

  Just as I’m about to give up, because I’ve searched through every neatly stacked container there is, Cole shoves aside a few old hockey bags. And there it is- my pink and black bag. It’s a little dusty but no worse for the wear. Feeling my heart skip a beat, I step just a bit closer as he unzips it.

  It’s all there.

  Looking just like the last time I saw it.

  Cole meets my eyes with a smile curving his lips upwards. Zipping it back up, he hauls the bag over his shoulder. “Do you have a stick?”

  Rifling through about fifteen sticks, I find my favorite and then one of my backups. I can’t help but run my hand slowly down the shaft. Both the grip and the blade are still wrapped in bright pink tape.

  Eyeing my stick, Cole shakes his head sadly. “You are such a girl.”

  “Just remember that I’m a girl who can kick your ass out on the ice.” Yeah, that probably isn’t true at all but
it lightens the mood which is exactly what I need.

  He smirks. “Well, that remains to be seen but we’re definitely on for a rematch.”

  Just as we’re shutting off the basement lights, I hear the front door open before slamming shut. The entire house shakes with the vibration of it. My stomach nosedives somewhere into my toes. Sucking in a breath, my sneaker clad feet grind to a halt. My wide gaze flies to Cole as my pulse kicks into overdrive. By the sound of the heavy footfalls above us, I know it’s my dad.

  Crap.

  Fresh waves of icy cold panic wash over me. My chest squeezes making it difficult to suck in air. “I can’t face him,” I murmur more to myself than to Cole. Feeling almost frantic, I shake my head before saying in a choked, frightened voice, “I can’t face him right now.”

  Cole shifts from one foot to the other. There’s confusion written all over his face as if he doesn’t quite understand what the big deal is. “Is that your dad?”

  “Yeah.” My mouth has completely dried up. A slight tremble takes hold of my body.

  His golden eyes study me carefully before understanding slowly dawns. “Is he going to be mad that we’re here?” Although by his tone of voice I think he already knows the answer to that question. And my silence only reconfirms it. I’m rethinking my stance on not mentioning to Cole that my family and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.

  I probably should have filled him in so he could have made his own choice about getting involved in this. But I had really thought we could sneak in and out under the radar while my dad and mom were at work. Cole has absolutely no idea what kind of minefield he’s about to walk into and I find that as I stand there listening to my dad stomp across the wood floor above us, there is no time to explain it to him. I’m not even sure if I could find the words.

  “Cassidy,” he says almost soothingly, “everything’s going to be okay. Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

  I want to laugh. No… not laugh. I want to run and hide. My dad is the absolute last person I want to face. But there’s no choice.