by Bradon Nave
“Get what, Jess?” she asked softly.
“It’s okay. You’re having second thoughts. I kinda thought this would happen once you got to know me—”
“No!” she exclaimed, taking my hand, looking at me finally. Grabbing my face, she sweetly kissed my cheek twice. “Please don’t think like that.”
“Then what is it? You know I’m going to think the worst when you won’t talk to me.”
Resting her head on my shoulder, she began lightly running her fingers over my inner thigh.
“Stop,” I chuckled. “Talk to me, please.”
“I just really miss him is all, I guess,” she said.
Although I hated hearing the turmoil in her words, I was selfishly relieved the girl I was falling for wasn’t about to crush me into a million pieces.
“You…you need to talk to someone about it. Do you talk to your uncle?”
“Yeah…I do. It’s hard to talk to him because he was his brother. I know it has to be hard for him to hear me talk about it.”
“Kacey, he’s a trained professional. He’s really helped me. I like him a lot…he’s a great guy.”
“I know…he’s helped me too.”
“I need to tell you something,” I said softly.
“’K.”
“I accidentally told him about us.”
Immediately her head was off my shoulder. Her eyes were wide as she searched my face. “What? What did he say? Was he pissed?”
“No…I specifically asked if he was mad, and he said no. He just wanted to make sure I was mentally healthy enough to be in a relationship,” I responded.
“Did he say anything about me? Anything bad? I went through a pretty rough patch when my father passed away.”
“No…of course not. I don’t care about any of that, Kacey. I like you. I like you a lot. I know people do crazy things when they’re grieving. I’m not going to judge you for any of it, I swear.”
Her gaze softened as her head returned to my shoulder. “I really like you, Jessie. I don’t want to lose you because of things that are out of my control,” she said softly.
“You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that. You’re seriously all I think about, Kacey—”
“Duke Lee Austin, I’m gonna kick your butt, boy,” Judy announced as she barged through the front door.
“Oh gosh,” Kacey muttered as we watched Judy and Larry walk in.
“What the hell is this?” Larry asked, laughing as he looked at our fort. Larry looked like the typical firefighter—well-built like he was solid muscle. He was baby-faced and could pass for someone closer to my age. Judy was attractive for a forty-year-old woman too. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone by looking younger than she was. They were good together. I was happy for them.
“Jessie? What are you doing?” Judy chuckled.
“Not much,” I replied, smiling.
“You must be Kacey,” she said as she stepped over Duke’s empty salad bowl to shake her hand.
“Hi…I just got here. I’m not responsible for any of this mess,” she responded as she obliged the handshake.
Larry looked to me, giving me an approving yet discrete thumbs up as he looked my girlfriend over.
“Oh, it’s fine. I just happened to check my voice mail, and it appears someone didn’t go to school today…” Judy said.
“That’s my fault, Judy,” I admitted quickly.
“Oh?” she asked, arms crossed as she looked down on me.
“Yeah…I just…I needed a day. I needed a senior day.”
“A senior day, huh?” she asked, offering a small smile as Duke came down the stairs.
“Step away from my friend, wench,” he demanded as he walked to Larry, shaking his hand.
“You’re gonna think, wench. Give your mother a hug,” she said as she turned to her son and squeezed him.
“Are you mad?” he asked as he hugged her back.
“No…but it’s not like you two to skip school. Just tell me next time.”
“You would have said no.”
“That’s right, I would have. And then I would have driven here and picked you up and taken you both to school.”
“Duke…don’t you got like a three-point-eight grade point or something like that?” Larry chimed in, gaining a smile from Duke.
“Three point nine, but who the hell is keeping track,” he replied.
“Hey…dingle-Larry, you’re not allowed to take his side already,” Judy snapped.
“Just saying,” the man said as his hands went up, fingers extended.
“Okay, okay…senior day, whatever. I really just wanted to stop by and see my sweet little precious baby boy and kiss him good night,” the woman said as she grabbed either side of my friend’s face, pulling it to hers. She kissed his cheek as Duke smirked at her.
“Larry, are you sure you can handle this much dork?” he asked.
“I think so…but, uh, I noticed those pizza boxes over there—”
“Have at it, man,” Duke replied approvingly.
“Sweet,” Larry said, grabbing one of the boxes and heading to the kitchen. For whatever reason, he returned just in time for Duke to turn his back to him and address his mother.
“Mom, I just want you to know I couldn’t be happier for you. I think he’s an awesome guy, and I’m happy he’s gonna be part of our family. I mean that…I’m happy for both of you,” Duke said assuredly.
Judy said nothing as her hand covered her mouth.
“You just lifted about a million pounds of worry off this man’s shoulders,” Larry announced, catching Duke’s attention as he turned to him.
“Oh…Larry, I didn’t know you were—”
“All I want is friendship, man. I’m not trying to tell you what to do or fill any roles,” Larry said.
“Well, yeah, friendship only…you’re marrying my mom, so anything more would just be weird,” Duke said.
“You big idiot,” Judy said as she pulled her son in for another hug.
“So…when you moving in?” Duke asked as he looked to Larry. The man’s eyes widened as he glanced at Judy.
“Well, um…we…we were actually going to talk to you and see when you would be cool with—”
“Whenever you’re ready, man. No sense in paying rent if you two are staying together every night,” Duke said.
“You’re serious?” Judy asked, her eyes glistening with the light from the television. “What’s…what’s with the one-eighty?”
“It’s not a one-eighty. I’m not good with things changing…never have been. But I think this is okay; this is a good thing.”
Larry walked toward Judy and Duke, extending his hand to shake Duke’s. “Hell no, dingle-Larry…bring it in for the real thing. We’re family now,” Duke said as he took Larry in a bear hug.
“Thank you, D,” we heard him mutter as he hugged him back.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
“Not one single incident of anxiety?” Dr. Cline asked as he smiled from across his desk.
“Nope,” I responded proudly. “The facts…I’ve been applying them to all sorts of aspects in my life,” I replied.
“Expand on that, give me an example…I love hearing progress like this.”
“Well, the other day my buddy, Duke, almost got into a scrap with a guy from school because he thought I needed to be protected…it was beyond stupid. Rather than get mad about the entire thing, I thought of the facts. Duke has been my friend for over ten years. He’s never once lied to me, and he honestly just thought he was helping me out. So I wasn’t mad.”
Dr. Cline laughed a little. “Is Duke the boy that sings and dances in his car in the parking lot sometimes?”
“Yep.”
“He seems like he’s been a very loyal friend.”
“He’s just a great person in general.”
“So are you, Jessie. Clients like you make me enjoy my job even more.”
“How…how so?”
“There’s so muc
h heartache and irreversible damage in my field of profession. When I get a case like yours, one with consistent and substantial progress, it’s refreshing.”
“Do you think I can get better to the point that I stay better? Like…to where I don’t have anxiety issues in say a year or so from now?”
“Anxiety is tricky, Jessie. I’ve seen patients in the emergency room, with physicians convinced they’re suffering from a cardiac issue when in fact it’s an anxiety issue. No one can say for certain if your condition will be manageable or if it will completely resolve. I do, however, feel completely confident in saying I feel you will be capable of a normal, healthy, and happy life. You’re bigger than this…you will always be bigger than this.”
“Thank you…I’m glad to hear you say that. What if…what if I had a friend I felt wasn’t? Or maybe they needed a little more help?”
“Do you feel Duke needs help with something?”
“Another friend,” I said abruptly.
“Oh…so this other friend of yours is having difficulty dealing with something and you feel you could possibly offer insight?”
“Possibly.”
“Jessie, the human mind is very complex. You know that. The state of mind is even more so. You need to ask yourself if you are the best resource for psychological advice at this point in time. We often don’t recognize that what we say and what we do can have profound consequences on someone’s emotional well-being years after the interaction…especially if that person is fragile or—”
“Fractured?”
“What did you say? What did you just say?”
“Fractured…not broken, but fractured.”
Dr. Cline stared at me, his mouth open slightly. His eyes seemed hollow. “Do you feel fractured, Jessie?”
“We’re all fractured to some extent.”
Leaning further onto his desk, Dr. Cline developed a heavy scowl. “You, young man, are not fractured, broken, damaged, or anything else of the sort…you’ve experienced emotional trauma. You’ve responded in a way that is perhaps atypical, but that doesn’t equate to a label such as ‘fractured.’ Do you understand me?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not a bad thing. I didn’t mean—”
“You’re not fractured,” he said—almost snapped.
“Okay. Damn,” I said as I put my head down.
The office fell silent for a few seconds. “I’m…I’m unsure who told you that, but they’re incorrect, Jessie. You’re strong. You’re solid and you’re bigger than this, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied softly.
“Are you still taking your medication?”
“Yes, sir. It makes me feel a little funny in class, like I can’t really concentrate.”
“Do you feel it’s affecting your studies?”
“No. Not really.”
“Clearly it’s assisting with the overall progress you’re displaying. I mean, no anxiety attacks, that’s outstanding, Mr. Kasper,” he said in a lighter tone.
“I think so too.”
“I’m going to prescribe something else as well that I’d like you to add. Many patients take these together to get the optimal effect.”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do to stay better,” I said, still feeling down.
“I know you will. Our futures have hiccups…that’s life. But I see a great deal of success in yours, Jessie. I think you’re going to do great things. I’m so thankful you’re progressing the way you are, and I’m extremely proud of you.”
“Thank you. I’m thankful you’ve been here to help me out the way that have. You have no clue how much it means to me. I feel like a normal guy again…whatever normal is…I feel like I’m getting to whatever normal is for me.”
“Normal is boring, Jessie. Whatever you’re getting to is going to be spectacular.”
“Thank you. Maybe I’ll be as successful as you someday,” I replied.
“If that’s your passion, go for it,” he replied.
“Maybe not a psychiatrist…but I really like numbers and data and my friend’s dad is an epidemiologist. He helps fight against cancer, but he doesn’t actually have to see it every day. I’ve really been looking into that a lot the last couple of weeks.”
“That sounds extremely interesting, Jessie. Are you about ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah, I’m needing my afternoon nap…I think it’s about that time.”
“I remember those days.”
“Yeah, I’m beat,” I replied.
“And…?”
“Huh?” I asked.
“And?”
“Oh…and I’m bigger than this.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
“It’s Friday and I’m with you…that’s really all that matters. I swear I don’t care what we do.”
“What a cop-out,” Kacey replied, running her hands through my hair while we sat next to each together at my kitchen table.
“Um…how about Netflix and spaghetti?”
“I’m down,” she replied, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I want to hang out with my dad…it’s been a long week,” I said as I looked toward the door. I felt like a grade-schooler waiting for him to get home from work.
“I get that,” she muttered. “Can we take a nap?”
I wasn’t tired, but judging by her passive pose and tired tone, she was. Nothing felt better than her head on my chest—of course I didn’t mind being her pillow. “Let’s go,” I replied, kissing the top of her head.
Upstairs, she made her way to my closet, picking out an oversized Hollister hoodie. She put it on over her existing outfit and left the hood over her head, pulling the drawstring tight. “Are you cold?” I asked.
“I’ve been warmer,” she replied quietly.
“Come here,” I said from the bed, patting the comforter.
The smell of her perfume and body wash entered my nose as her head rested on my chest. It was my form of heaven. I wanted to freeze the moment—until I saw a solitary tear etching its way from the corner of her eye down her nose. “Kacey…what’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh…nothing. I’m good. My eyes burn,” she replied, wiping her eye with the sleeve.
I cradled her closer to me. I wanted to squeeze the pain out of her—the sickening feeling of loss that can’t be summed up and depicted by even the saddest song. I hated that she was crumbling while I was reconstructing.
“Talk to me, Kacey…please.” Almost instantly her lips were on my neck, kissing me while her hand began attempting to work its way under the drawstring of my sweatpants.
“Please stop,” I whispered, grabbing her hand.
“What? Why?” she asked, seemingly put off.
“What are you doing?” I asked softly as she looked to me. The hint of irritation in her eyes was clearly expanding.
“What do you think I was doing, Jessie? And if it’s a problem, you’re the only guy I know that thinks that way,” she snapped.
“You’re mad at me?” I asked. The shock in my voice was evident.
“Well…it’s a little ridiculous,” she said, putting her head back down on my chest.
I looked toward the ceiling. Most guys would kill for a girlfriend that would rather spend her time getting him off than talking, but I knew something was wrong. Each time I attempted to bring up talking about her feelings surrounding the loss of her father, she got grabby. “Okay…do whatever you want,” I said softly.
Neither of us said anything or moved for several seconds. “Ya know if…if I did that and you told me no, I wouldn’t get mad at you, Kacey. You have no reason to be mad at me,” I said finally. “Of course I’m down for that, but not if you’re doing it just so you don’t have to talk to me.”
The silence fell across the room once more. Her body felt tense against mine—at least momentarily, we no longer “fit.” She turned from me and sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m gonna go,” she said softly.
I said nothing; my gaze remained fixed on th
e ceiling. Inside, I was dying. I wanted to beg her to stay, to turn to her pleading for her to forgive me for whatever it was I did wrong, but I couldn’t even bring myself to look at her.
“You know, Jessie, if and when I want to talk to you about stuff, I will,” she snapped while still sitting. I said nothing. I wanted to implode. My feet felt wet, and the butterflies in my stomach had been replaced with scorpions. “Just because you feel like you can walk into an office and tell someone all your problems and everything is so perfect afterward…well, good for you, Jessie,” she continued, standing from the bed. “I’m not you. If I wanted to talk to you, I would talk to you. Like you of all people should be handing out advice.”
My bottom lip was clenched tightly between my teeth as I continued staring at the ceiling. I heard her words—her venomous assault—but they were slow to completely penetrate.
With her arms crossed, she turned to me. I felt her gaze on the side of my face but refused to look at her. She hurt me. I’d let her in and she hurt me, and for what? Because I wanted to talk to her? Because I wanted to know what was wrong?
“Jessie,” she said in a neutral tone.
“I got it…okay,” I replied, my voiced cracking with nerves.
Her arms went to her sides as she turned from me again. Within seconds she was wailing, crying into her hands. “I’m so sorry! Forgive me!” she said, turning back toward me. As I finally looked to her, she began crying harder, as if she could see how hurtful her outburst had been. She crawled back on the bed, grabbing my face. “Jessie, please. I’m so sorry. You mean so much to me. You’re absolutely precious to me. It’s a privilege having someone like you in my life to get advice from…I’m so sorry I lashed out at you…I’m just so angry!” she cried.
“It’s okay…we’re okay,” I replied, kissing her forehead. “Please listen to me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I like you a lot. I want this to work, like, long-term. I want to put the sex stuff on hold until we’re both at a better place. That might not make sense to you but—”
“It makes perfect sense, Jessie, and you don’t have to explain that to me. I’m sorry.”
“And if you’re not able to talk to me about your father…will you talk to your uncle about it? Or have him talk to someone about it? Maybe he can refer you to someone.”