Dangerous Past

by Cobe Reinbold

  For a second, I thought about it, weighing my options, but in the end, I decided it couldn’t hurt. I nodded and stared at my plate. I didn’t want to feel like this forever, so if seeing a therapist could help then I was all for it.

  “Perfect, we made an appointment for later this afternoon, around five o’clock. They say it’s best to face these things as soon as possible, so we hoped you would agree,” Mom said.

  It was the most cheerful she had sounded since we found out about Mady. I believe it was mostly because she had a plan to help me work through the emotional trauma. It would have been nice if they discussed it with me before going ahead and making an appointment, but they had my best interests at heart and I couldn’t be mad at them for that.

  After breakfast, I went upstairs and checked my computer, finding another onslaught of texts; this wave consisting of friends asking me when I was coming back to school. In all honesty, I hadn’t thought about it. It probably wasn’t good to alienate myself from all the people that cared about me, and I’m sure the therapist would say the exact same thing in about two hours, but I couldn’t even imagine myself walking through those school doors again.

  Switching from the texts, I watched some videos of other people in therapy sessions to get a feel for it. I hated going into situations not knowing what to expect, so I always did my homework. I had just decided it wouldn’t be that bad, and they were really there to help me with whatever I needed, when there was a knock at my bedroom door.

  “Come on in,” I called.

  “Hey buddy, you should leave. Your appointment starts in fifteen minutes. Your mom and I were thinking we’d come with you for the first time, just to feel it out.” Dad stuck his head in the door.

  “No, I want to do this alone. It kind of defeats the purpose of a private session if you guys are with me.”

  “Alright, well you should get going, then.”

  I hopped out of bed after he closed the door and threw on the pants that were wet a couple hours ago. Mom must have thrown them in the dryer at some point, because they were completely dry, and still a little bit warm. I pulled on a shirt, and ran out the front door, yelling goodbye to my parents on the way. In the car, I punched the address into the navigation system, and drove out the driveway before speeding away. It was about quarter to five and the sun was still above the mountains, which was nice.

  I arrived at my destination around 4:55, and went in immediately, thinking being a bit early for the first meeting wasn’t a bad thing. The building was an old house stuck in between new pushovers in one of the areas of town that was being converted into vacation homes. A sign out front proclaimed ‘Dr. Nancy Kim, Psychologist, BA. MSc.’ I walked up the cobblestone walkway and onto the porch steps. The house had an old feel, but it was well taken care of. The lawn was freshly cut and the porch was sound. Someone really cared about this house. I wondered if the building wasn’t just her office, but where she was living as well. I halted at the glass door and knocked three times. Hurried footsteps preceded the snick of the lock being disengaged and the handle turning. A woman with short blond hair stood in the doorway. Her white shirt had ruffles around the neck, and she wore a gray cardigan over it.

  “You must be Brian, I’m Nancy Kim, but you can just call me Nancy,” she said, offering me her hand.

  I took it without hesitation and she ushered me in. Nancy Kim seemed like a stereotype for all therapists. She had a high pitched, perpetually cheery voice, and was too energetic for anyone to keep up with. Even with all that, there was something about her that I liked. She seemed like the kind of person everyone loved to be around, which in many ways reminded me of Mady. Ms. Kim made me comfortable in this strange situation. She was obviously good at her job. She looked like she was in her late forties, but didn’t seem that old.

  “Please, come sit.” She led me to a back room that had been converted into an office space. I sat down in the love seat across from a big leather chair. After grabbing a notepad and a pen, Nancy sat in the leather chair.

  I didn’t know what to say. All of the videos I watched said I needed to speak whatever came to my mind, and not filter anything out. But, it felt strange to just spew things out without thinking.

  “I’m Brian, but I guess you already know that. Did my parents book this appointment today?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry, I always have time for emergency appointments, and I heard what happened to your friend on the news. I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah, it’s been hard on all of us,” I said, breathing deeply to hold back the tears.

  Nancy must have caught on. Before I could exhale, she said, “Brian, it’s okay to cry here. That’s what this process is meant to do. I’m just here to make sure you’re okay, and allow you to express your sorrow and anger. Eventually, you’ll be able to understand your emotions and view them in a healthy manner. What you’re experiencing is hard for anyone, especially for a high school student.”

  Something inside broke free and I let the tears come. We talked about my feelings for Mady, and if it was real love, or not. We explored how I felt about her being gone, and how I felt about what she did. Nancy reiterated what I already knew, which was that she couldn’t tell anyone what we talked about in these sessions unless she thought I was going to be a danger to myself, or anyone else. After the session was over, I thanked her. We decided it would be a good idea for me to come back every single day for the next little while, until I was feeling better. I didn’t have an issue with it. My mom was right, it was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn’t involved in the situation and who couldn’t get mad at you or judge your words.

  I drove home, feeling good about my session with Nancy. The sun had dipped below the mountains and it was pitch black, other than the lights hanging on the fence surrounding our house. As soon as I walked in the door, I could hear my parents getting up from the couch in the living room and coming toward me. They both rounded the corner, identical worried expressions on their faces. When they saw I wasn’t a total wreck and bawling in the entryway, they seemed to lighten up.

  “How did it go, son,” Dad asked.

  “Good. She’s a really nice woman. We talked about everything and she showed me ways I can cope that won’t hurt me in the long run. We booked another session for noon tomorrow. I hope that’s okay?” I flashed them a small smile to reassure them.

  “Yes, of course. You go to her as long as you need, but if you ever need someone else to talk to, we’re always here, Brian,” Dad responded, looking relieved I didn’t hate the experience. It was like this was my parents’ last ditch effort to get me out of my funk, and they seemed happy it had worked.

  After our conversation, I went up to my room, took a shower and crawled into bed. I was relieved and happy I had someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn’t judge me, no matter what I said to her. I got up and hopped on the computer. To my surprise, there wasn’t a single mean message this time. There was still over a hundred I had to comb through, but now most people were just saying they would be at the memorial, and they hoped they would see me there. Of course, I’d already decided to go to the funeral. It would be nice to see everyone again. Maybe I was getting over this faster than I thought I would.

  I slept that night without any dreams. In the early hours of the morning I was wakened by a beep from my computer. I looked over and noticed it was still wide open. I must have fallen asleep when I was checking it last night. I looked at the message blinking on the screen. It was from Stacy, one of Mady’s best friends, who I had met after I started dating her. The message was an invitation to a party she was planning after the memorial for us to remember Mady, since “She was the life of the party”. I wondered how Stacy was doing. There was no doubt she was Mady’s best friend, but I always questioned her loyalty. She seemed to cancel plans as soon as something better came up. I wondered if she had already moved on to the next pretty girl as her best friend. I would go, nonetheless. Maybe she was struggling with the situation just a
s much as I was, and I would have another person to talk to.

  My entire day consisted of doing schoolwork that I received from my teachers via email, along with their condolences for my loss. I had a feeling what they had me do was condensed quite a bit since it only took me two hours to catch up on the past couple days I had missed. After that, I went online and caught up with the things I had missed that were blowing up on the internet. Then I texted Jason and thanked him for being my best friend and told him how much I appreciated him.

  Life was really looking up. After that it was time to see Nancy Kim. I drove back to her office. Near the end of the session yesterday, I told Nancy I felt like I talked about myself the whole time and I wanted her to tell me a little bit about herself. It was a way for me to forget about the situation and get the attention off of me for a second. I wasn’t used to being the centre of attention, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. She told me the office was her childhood home, and when she got her masters she bought the place for her office. She said that even therapists have their strange quirks, and there was no such thing as a perfect person, everyone’s just different from everyone else.

  I walked up to her front door and knocked. She greeted me warmly like she did yesterday. We went through to the back room and got started. It was strange. The day before Nancy just let me to talk about Mady, but this time she got more out of me. She delved deep into my family life; my feelings about my parent’s materialistic ways, and even the fact they sent me to her instead of trying to help me themselves. I always valued an experience over material things. Even when I was young and my parents didn’t have the kind of money they had now, Mom would dress me up in my nice clothes on Sunday, and instead, I would run outside, strip down and jump into the back garden to throw mud around and have a good time.

  I never really cared about my appearance, but my parents obviously did. Their genes must have rubbed off on me because I was voted the hottest guy in school in more than one girls’ bathroom stall. I never appreciated that. I loved my parents and I respected them, but I never understood how we could be so different. Nancy made me think about things that I saw as normal in a different way which made me realize maybe there was something wrong there. For years I thought it was normal to be so materialistic when you grew up and could afford it. But, in that room, I started to realize I had morphed into what they wanted me to be. The popular kid with the good-looking girlfriend who was excellent at every single sport known to mankind. But, I was done. I think it took a big enough event in my life to make me go to Nancy Kim and decide to make a change in my life. When I got home, I was going to talk to my parents and let them know my world view had changed drastically.

  I left Nancy’s office with a different outlook. This was perhaps the first time I realized maybe my friends weren’t the people I liked being around the most. I loved my parents, and though I didn’t get why they valued possessions so much, it didn’t mean I didn’t love them. I just needed to let them know I didn’t care so much about that, and I wanted to start spending more time as a family so we could make memories I would look back on when I was older. Time spent together, not possessions. I got home and went into the house. My parents were still off work, they’d decided they’d just go back on Monday. They wanted to go to the memorial to support Mady’s parents, even though Mom had only met them when she sold them the house. Nonetheless, they wanted to be there.

  “Hey honey, we’re in here!” Mom called cheerily from the living room. She was reading a Cosmo magazine about the ten best summer looks, and Dad looked up from a book, probably about business, or advertising, or something. They smiled when I joined them, and I almost completely forgot about what I wanted to say. They did seem like they loved me and we were the perfect family. Maybe we were, but I wanted us to be more. Perfect, isn’t everything.

  “Can we talk?” I felt sick, I had never stood up to my parents, even when they got mad for what seemed like nothing to me, I just took it, but this time it was different.

  They closed their books. There was a pleased and almost complacent expression on their faces, as if they expected me to tell them therapy worked miracles, and I was completely cured.

  “What is it, bud?” Dad asked pushing his reading glasses higher up on his nose.

  For an hour, I told them everything; every illegal thing I ever did, which surprisingly, for such a young person with little time to break the law, was a lot of things. Dad, being a lawyer, made me awkward at first, but soon everything was flowing. I felt like if I opened up with them then they would open up about the things I just now realized I wanted in a family. I didn’t want to be the kind of person who grew up and resented my childhood. I told them what I needed, what I wanted, so I could truly feel like I was part of a family. As I talked, all they did was sit and listen. After I finished, Mom was the first one to make a move, she crossed the room and hugged me. Dad followed soon after. I thought they would be tentative after all of the things I told them. Pretty much saying I didn’t feel like we were a family. Instead they just stood there and hugged me.

  “Brian, you don’t have to change to be around us, we’re your parents. We’re going to love you, no matter what. If you don’t want to play sports then you don’t have to, we just want you to be happy. We can move, or we can travel more, just tell us what you want,” Mom told me. It seemed like she was on the edge of tears. I wasn’t sure if she was hurt or touched.

  “Brian, you know we have the money, we can go away for a while if you want. Maybe this whole situation has been too much for you, but we’re going to get through it,” Dad said. His words shook me to the core. The fact my dad was completely okay with what I just told him was remarkable. He used to prosecute people for the things I just listed off, and he was completely accepting of it. I guess what they say about your family always standing by you is true.

  “No, I don’t want to move, I just need something to change. I know you guys work so hard for me, but I want to feel closer to you. It feels like you guys never noticed I don’t even care about the same things as you. I know you started this job so you could provide for the family, Dad, but I think you’ve lost track of why you took it in the first place.” They both looked relieved they didn’t have to start house hunting in some other town, and I was just relieved I wasn’t grounded for the rest of eternity.

  I went back to my room and threw myself on my bed. I somehow felt stronger for speaking my mind to my parents. Maybe Mady’s death helped me find my way in the world. I checked my computer; there was nothing new there. I guess everyone was ramping up for the memorial tomorrow. Tomorrow, I hoped I would find some closure and be able to move on. It felt strange saying I was going to move on from Mady’s death, but that’s what I needed to do. I closed my laptop, plunging my room into darkness and stared at the ceiling for what felt like an hour, until before I knew it, I slipped into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 4

  I woke up feeling like I was living in someone else’s body. It was the most surreal sensation. Nothing from the last few days could be real. Mady and I were supposed to go to the same university and eventually get married. I couldn’t cry, my emotions were detached, as if they were set apart from me somehow. I got dressed in my suit, threw on my nicest pair of shoes and went down to the garage. I said goodbye to my parents. I didn’t want to arrive at the funeral with them, I wanted to show up alone and find my friends.

  I parked the car at the funeral home, but I couldn’t remember driving there. Weird. The funeral was scheduled for 10 A.M. When I pulled up I saw a group of kids from school. They were milling around near the parking lot. They must have been waiting for me because as soon as I got out of the car they all rushed up, talking at once and hugging me. These were the ones that actually took the time out of their day to show up to her funeral, these were our real friends. Mady hadn’t been in town long, but it wasn’t hard to love her.

  The group hug broke up and we moved into the funeral home as a unit. We found seats in the second p
ew. The priest greeted us in and thanked us for coming. The room was packed. I knew Mady touched a lot of people, but I didn’t realize she’d gotten to know the entire town in the two years she lived here. The room just got more crowded as the minutes passed. Soon there was only standing room at the sides and back of the room. I avoided looking at the casket the whole time, making eye contact with everyone so I had an excuse not to look at the front. As the music started and Mady’s parents and grandparents walked towards the first pew, I had to look.

  The front of the room was covered with pictures of Mady. She was smiling, every single photo was of her smiling, because Mady was never in a bad mood. The front wall was lined with bright flowers, a collection of all shapes and colours. In the centre was the coffin. After the family settled in their pew, the priest mounted the pulpit. I never understood how a priest could do that. Stand in front of a couple hundred people they didn’t know and talk about a person as if they were best friends with them, when in actuality they may have seen them once when their parents made them sit through mass. In this case the priest, Father Thomas, never even met Mady. They hadn’t been in town as long as the rest of us, and the family never really went to church. Mady believed in God and all that, but the three of them never had a desire to go to church.

  The priest was acquainted with Mady’s parents and was presiding over the ceremony more as a favour to them than anything else. I wasn’t sure if priests were supposed to hold funerals for victims of suicide, and on top of that a suicide that couldn’t be proven. In the end he spoke about how, though Mady’s death wasn’t proven, the police were planning to close the case as a suicide so it was okay for us to grieve. We could hold onto the thought Mady was out there somewhere alive and well. But at some point we needed to realize that the idea of her resting in peace was best for all of us. It made me realize I really did have to start accepting she was gone and start moving on, but not just yet.