She’s quiet, letting me reflect.
I continue. “But I overslept. I stayed up half the night thinking and walking on my treadmill, just trying to sort out my feelings. By the time I got up, too late to make the trip…this was on my phone.” I show her the text. She cocks her head and reads it without comment.
I frown, still mad at myself for oversleeping. “A day passed, then two, and before I knew it, the time for a response had passed. Now it feels like I lost my chance, that it would be rude to respond, like he’s an afterthought.” And this makes me yearn…for what? I don’t know, but I leave that little morsel unspoken.
Dr. Timlan stands and turns to the window. “It’s never too late, Sara. If you want to send a text, send it. If not, don’t. But by now I’m sure he’s gotten the hint. Don’t you think?” She waves the whole conversation away, ready to get back to the association exercises.
Her simplification of the situation has me a little put out. I shrug. It is what it is. I know it’s the right thing. I am here, after all, to get Javi out of the nuthouse. I don’t know how I’d explain Frankie to him. It would get a little tight on the back of either guy’s bike with all three of us on there. Yet I can’t help feeling sorry that I’m a lazy ass and like to sleep in.
* * *
Over the past two weeks, I’ve stuck to my therapy religiously. Three times a week, rain or shine. Sasha even came twice! The doc gets her. Sasha even got the mad typist to take it down a notch, “You need something to get all that aggression out on, besides the poor keyboard.” And handed her a friggin Chubby Chasers, Inc. card!
My field trips have expanded to the Chubby House! I got to visit the girls with my therapist’s approval! My room is just as I left it, everything the same. It’ll be no time before I’m back, granting Favors. I’m sure the feeder couple has given up on me, though. Maybe I should send them an oink-o-gram?
Therapy field trips also consisted of visiting two colleges in the area. A different world, for sure. I’d tried college before, but frankly, didn’t have enough confidence to even get me from class to class, let alone make a real go of it.
This time, I made appointments with two different advisors and actually kept them—a step up for sure! —and started to play with the notion of going back to school, broadening my horizons. All part of my therapy. I think I’d actually be good at business, maybe run a Chubby House of my very own someday. The sky’s the limit. At least that’s what my therapist says. But it’s only recently that I’ve started to believe her.
But all that pales in comparison to today’s session. It’s Javi Day!!
My papers certifying I’m as normal as the next guy are all signed and will be faxed over to Javi’s doctor. Plus, I’ll be able to hand deliver a copy when I go to visit him! I’m so excited I could just pee!
Therapy starts with the usual, but I’m so amped up, I don’t pay attention to half of what’s talked about. We go over my homework from the past week, and when we’re close to the end, Dr. Timlan realizes she’s only got half my brain to pick today. “I give up!” But she laughs as she throws her hands in the air.
Instead of talking about the assignment and risking me forgetting it, she writes it down, folding the paper in half, but doesn’t read it to me.
“First things first.” She walks around the desk and makes as if to bless me, a big smile on her face. “I certify you a lovely girl, fit to take on any of life’s challenges, big or small. Your paper is signed, but I think it would be a good idea, for now, to keep up a weekly appointment.” Her hands go up in a don’t shoot gesture at my frown. “Totally up to you! No one’s holding a gun to your head any longer. Three a week is a bit much, and there’s a world of possibilities out there just waiting for you to snatch them up.” She grabs the air and clasps it to her chest with a twinkle in her eye. “I’d like for us to continue your self-improvement journey, but on a weekly basis.”
I agree. I think about how good I’ve felt for the past two weeks. Lighter, unburdened. “Today’s homework is a doozy. If you’re not up to it, I’ll understand. But don’t let a lack of homework keep you from next week’s meeting. If it’s too soon, we can work up to it. Let me know. Just don’t cut me off.” She smirks over her glasses.
I laugh and promise I’ll see her next week.
I get a text in the elevator on the way down.
Frankie. When I picture him in my mind, it’s always with a lopsided grin. He’s a heartbreaker, that one.
You alive? Hope you’re ok. ☹ Frankie
Still with the sad face. What the hell, I decide to text him back.
Javi
Therapy—talking civilized with this shrink—is a change of pace. All of my animosity is gone, closeted away to review at a later date. “I know you’re Dr. Malloy, but I never found out your first name.” I’m losing my stalker edge.
He nods, and I can see he’s pleasantly surprised. I’m not acting like a lunatic. “It’s Doug. Dr. Doug Malloy. Wow, Javi, interest in someone other than Blue. That’s quite a step up for you.”
“Can I still call you Doc?” I ask, flashing him my patented Javi smile.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with, Javier. There are a few developments I’d like to go over with you. Your friends, Sasha and Gretchen, were very forthcoming at our ‘family meeting.’ Some of what they talked about you’re not going to like, but I think if we get to the heart of the issues, it will get easier for you, okay?”
I nod, knowing where this is going. Those bitches.
“The ladies informed me that your mother is living in a basement apartment with a nurse at your house. Is this correct?”
There’s a sound like a door lock unclicking in my head. I feel it all the way down into my fillings. It’s agonizing, but I can’t let it show. I’m almost home free.
“Let me think a minute.” I’m stalling, to buy myself some time. He’s watching me with his glass-covered eyes, and I don’t want to fuck this up. The door opens, just a crack, and secrets which I’ve kept locked away fight to break loose. I decide the truth will be easiest.
“Yeah, that’s true. It’s just, unless someone talks about her—and this is really weird, Doc—I don’t remember her. When you brought her up right now, I honestly had to think hard to even see her in my mind. Maybe I’m crazier than I thought.” My hands are shaking. I move them beneath my thighs, pressing them into the chair beneath me before they betray me. This entire line of questioning bothers me a whole hell of a lot more than I let on. I’m a young man. There shouldn’t be any gaps in my memory yet.
He nods. “They said that you’ve recently told Blue that your mother was dead. They had to introduce her to Blue. You had her so convinced you’d killed your own mother, she had to see the proof with her own two eyes.”
I raise my eyebrows at this. Will the plotting against me never cease? Incredulous, I ask. “Blue met with my mother? When?” I can’t believe she never said anything about it to me. Why is she hiding this? And more importantly, what else is she hiding?
I’m upset with the Sass Sisters as well. That was our secret, dammit. But I’ll deal with them later. It’s Blue holding shit back already that’s got me so wound up.
He holds up a hand. “That’s not important. What is important is this break you’ve just described to me. Gretchen says you’ve suffered from catatonia in the past. They’re just worried about you, as am I. I feel you may be suffering from a Dissociative identity disorder. From what you’ve told me, your mother’s displays of apathy, unpredictability caused a lack of trust that was so profound for you, you simply forgot she existed so you could forget about the way she treated you. It’s a defense mechanism.”
Okay, Freud. I latch onto his explanation, nodding my head. “Alright. So give me a pill for this dissociative whatever. Fix me, Doc.”
Dr. Malloy shakes his head, pity in his eyes. “There is no pill to fix this, Javi. It’s all about long-term inpatient therapy, talk therapy, medications…but I need your commit
ment for this to work. You see, when you’re in a dissociative state, you could hurt yourself, or someone else, without even knowing it. I’m surprised, actually, that your mother is still alive and well. I expected to hear she was dead when your friends brought her up. Violence against others, especially when you feel like you’re losing control, is common.”
I nod. “So you’re telling me that I need to stay in a place like this for the rest of my life?” I’m getting really pissed now. That’s not going to happen. I can’t live without my sweet Bonita.
He notices my mood change. “Not necessarily. You’ll have to work hard to avoid triggers. Anything to remind you of what you did to your mother can push you over the edge.”
I smirk. “They told you about that, did they?” Backstabbers, I think.
He holds up a hand. “Some of it, not anything you should be worried about. Your part in enabling your overeating mother, yes. I can honestly say you did the best thing for your mother by keeping her safe. Especially if she can’t stop herself from eating, like your friends said.” He’s watching my reaction.
This is all news to me. When I go home, I’ll have to go down and see her. I can’t even remember what my own mother looks like. Was she an overeater? Did I lock her away to prevent her from hurting herself? Or me? Why doesn’t any of this ring a bell in my fucked up brain?
When I don’t give him any reaction, he continues. “You’ve got serious abandonment issues, trust issues, and a fear of losing control, along with the disassociation. It wouldn’t surprise me to hear you’ve never had a long-term relationship. Before Blue.”
I look up into his eyes. Is he joking? Long term? I’ve known her a second in time, and I feel like she was made for me, my soul mate. Is there anything more long term than that? All I say is, “I was waiting for her. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve never had a long-term relationship.”
He stands. “Maybe you’re right. Just, please, go slow. Talk to Blue about this. So she knows what she’s getting herself into.”
A fax comes in as we shake hands. That feeling, the itch behind my eyes, is back. I feel like if I don’t get out of here soon, I’ll never get another chance. It takes everything in me to shake his hand and walk, not run, for the door. He follows me to the door. I agree that I’ll think about all of this, and I’ll see him tomorrow.
By the time I hit the vending machine, picking Blue’s favorite, king-size Snickers, I’ve forgotten what it is exactly I’m supposed to talk to her about.
Blue
Thank you for a lovely time, but…I have a boyfriend. Blue
That’s what happens, I think. When it rains, it pours. I was stuck in a guy dry spell my whole life, and now I’ve got two. Well, one, actually. I just got rid of the other one. Effectively shutting that door with my text, I delete it and deposit the phone back in my purse.
Only when the paper crinkles do I remember my homework assignment.
It’s time for our real work to begin, Sara. You have to start to heal. Contact your mother. You don’t have to tell her where you are or what you’re doing. Just call your mother. And try to think of two reasons to forgive her.
–Dr. Timlan
I’m shocked. This isn’t the kind of homework Dr. Timlan’s been giving me. Everything she’s had me do up until this point has been empowering. Things to make me independent. Yet now, she’s wanting me to call my mother and forgive her? “Like hell I will.” The driver, pulling into traffic, turns back to me. “Excuse me, miss?”
I wave my hand at him. “Nothing, just talking to myself.” I turn to stare out the window for the remainder of the ride. When I get home, I notice the crumpled homework assignment from the doctor discarded on the seat.
“Do you have a trash can up there?” I ask, handing the driver the crumpled paper.
Javi
It’s almost time, but it can’t get here fast enough. I’ve packed what I needed, they won’t catch me slippin’ this time coming back for a stupid cell phone. I’ve got phone privileges but don’t use them. No one in the Chubby House needs to know that I’m getting out.
I lean over and grab my boots, carrying them into the bathroom. I don’t know how closely they watch my room. I’m thinking not too close, since I was able to have access to the Chubby cam, but you can never be too careful in this place.
Closing the door behind me, I lift the lid on the toilet. I reach into first one boot, grabbing the handful of pills, tucked up in the toe, and drop them into the flushing toilet. I repeat the same with the other boot. All the zombie pills from the last two weeks down the drain. Blue doesn’t need to see me that way.
Blue
This time, when I go to visit Javi, the two stooges aren’t guarding the door. Dr. Timlan’s clearance papers are clutched so tightly in my balled fist, I’m leaving a sweat-print. Why am I this nervous?
It’s been a whole month since I’ve been face to face with Javi. I made a quick trip to the Chubby parlor after therapy, getting my hair and make-up done. I’m wearing a soft grey dress, with a flared poodle skirt. Pink heels and a soft pink sweater that falls just below my boobs, ‘making your waist look tiny!’ Hari said when she dropped off the new ensemble at my digs. “Thanks Hari. Oh, and my therapist wanted me to ask if you do clothes for people outside of the Chubby House.”
“Of course!” I give her the card that my therapist gave me, complete with her personal phone number scribbled on the back.
“Wow! I don’t even get her personal number!”
Hari smiles and tucks the card carefully away in her sewing bag/purse.
“I’m here to see Javi, I’ve been cleared to visit.” I thrust the sweat-soaked paper at the skinny nurse. “I know, Ms. Patterson. Just sign in and I’ll let him know you’re here to see him.” She smiles, a patented nurse one, but I don’t return it. She’s part of the establishment that kept me from Javi in the first place.
I turn to the double doors that separate us sane people from the patients and fight to keep still. A wash of anxiety has my fingers tapping the front desk. I’m feeling excited, nervous, stomach in knots, hoping for a glimpse of him.
Absentmindedly, I smooth my hair back and rub my lips together. Please let my breath still be good.
I see him. He opens the door and steps through. The burning intensity I see in his eyes brings me to tears. “Javi!” I cry, running into his open arms. “I’ve missed you! I’m kidnapping you, I swear,” I say into his shirt.
He laughs, “I’ve missed you, too, Bonita. But kidnapping? That’s a strong word to use in here. Besides,” he says with a smirk, “I’m in hospital PJs. I’ll probably be arrested for indecent exposure and foil your kidnapping plot.” He winks.
“Here, let me look at you.” He holds me back, eyeing me up and down. “You are a sight for sore eyes. I’m so glad you came. And just in time, too. It looks like you’re not feeding yourself properly in my absence. You look too skinny. C’mon, let’s go to the lobby and get you a snack.” I take his hand, him leading the way, and roll my eyes at his feeder ways.
He unwraps the Snickers he bought and holds it up for me. I smirk, but bite into it. Whatever makes him happy.
“Bigger,” he commands, and I do, taking half the candy bar into my mouth before he’s satisfied. Nodding, he says, “Let’s walk outside. Is it nice out still?”
I nod. Since I’ve been out of the house, I haven’t really had much sugar. Not feeling the need to binge now that I’ve got a therapist to talk to. The sugar courses through my veins with each bite he feeds me, only adding to my mounting anxiety. I feel like any minute, Curly and Moe are gonna come running over, grab Javi, and kick me off the grounds. My eyes scan the walkway, no sign of the goon squad, which is a good thing.
Javi does his own search as we walk to the exit doors, a hint of mistrust in his eyes. “They only gave me thirty minutes with you, and the walls have ears. Let’s go outside. Please, Blue.” I nod, not understanding his mood, but allow him to pull me out into the late-afternoon sun
. He said he was really trying with the psychiatrist. Then, remembering what it was like to live with constant surveillance in the Chubby House, a shudder runs through me. I follow him outside.
“How much longer do you have to be here?” I ask, eager for the day I get him all to myself.
“Not long.” H smiles, a scorcher, and pulls me into him, kissing me with an intensity that I’ve missed. He licks my lips before pulling away. “You’re so sweet, Bonita. I could eat you up!”
I giggle. “It’s the chocolate, silly.” This man.
We talk about his days in here. I bring up my therapy and my homework. “I’ve been looking into schools.” I watch his eyes for any sign that this bothers him, but he only smiles, pulling me in closer. I continue, “She wants me to call my mother, Javi. I don’t think I can. It’ll hurt too much just to have her deny, well, everything.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything. When I look up, I catch a bewildered expression, which fleets across his features, before he smiles down at me.
He whispers into my hair. “Don’t do anything that will cause you pain, Blue. That’s been my motto this whole time, and well, it’s worked so far. I’ll be getting out very soon. Your therapist did say you’re not suffering from that Stockholm shit, right?”
I nod, squealing, pulling him into me. “Is that all that was holding you here? You can leave now?”
He nods, and I can’t stop the tears of relief. “Yep, totally cured.” He grins at my happiness. “Just got the word from the doc before you came. I wanted to surprise you. So, are you willing to give a stranger a ride?”
I’m beaming at the news. “You are the furthest thing from a stranger! Let’s go!”
Javi
I wasn’t lying to her. The thirty-day hold was voided as soon as Blue’s doctor faxed over the all-clear. If she doesn’t have Stockholm and she denies ever being a victim, no charges can be filed. I’m free to go. I just leave out the part where the doctor advised me to stay for long-term therapy. I’d listened to all his recommendations, same shit the last doctor said when I told him I was leaving. Nodding in all the right places, before politely declining their invitations.
Blue, Light and Dark (Chubby Chasers, Inc. Series Book 2) Page 16