I cleared my throat uncomfortably when it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything else. “Um…well…how have you been?” I asked lamely. Christ, had I really asked that? Why didn’t I just ask her about the weather? Because irrelevant conversation seemed all I was capable of.
Maggie’s sharp bark of laughter let me know that she too thought my question of choice was a total joke. “How have I been? Before or after your Dear John letter? Oh, I’ve been just peachy, I’m so glad you asked.” Her sarcasm was laced with a very obvious anger. Not that I didn’t deserve it, but damn, it sucked.
“About that letter…” I don’t know what I was about to say. Maybe try to explain that I never had any plans to let her go. That I loved her just as much, if not more than I ever had. That there wasn’t a second of the day that went by that I didn’t think about her. But I never got the chance.
Maybe I should tell her it was a lie. That I didn’t want her to move on. That the thought of her with another guy made me physically ill. That the dozens of faceless jerks I envisioned her with each died a very painful death in my head.
Because that would go a long way in proving my improved mental health.
“Save it, Clay. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you feel the need to say. You have no idea how I’ve wanted to hear your voice. But now…I just can’t.” The anger was gone and now she just sounded sad and I hated that even more. I couldn’t fix this. There was no way in hell Maggie would ever give me the chance to. I had messed up too badly.
It’s what I had feared. The scenario that kept me awake at night. That even after I was able to get my life together, I wouldn’t have her to share it with. And here it was, smacking me in the face. It was the nastiest reality check I had ever had.
“I’m sorry,” I said into the silence. No two words had ever been truer. Or so completely inadequate. “Please know that. I…I love you, Maggie. Always,” I said in a rush of desperation. I needed to say it. Needed her to hear it. If only one more time.
I could hear Maggie sigh. “I know you do, Clay. But that stopped being enough three months ago.” Fuck, that hurt. And there went my heart breaking all over again
“Yeah, I get that,” was all I could say. I couldn’t argue with her. She was right. Love had never been our problem. No, the issues rested entirely on my shoulders. So we sat there, listening to each other breathe for another few minutes as though we were both afraid to sever whatever tenuous connection we had in that moment.
“I’ve got to go, Clay,” Maggie finally said. I rubbed my fist over my heart, feeling the constant dull ache kick up a notch into an almost unbearable pain. The finality of her words couldn’t be any clearer.
“Okay,” I replied, biting my tongue on the millions of other things I wanted to say. Because I knew it was useless. “Well, I’ll…um…well, take care,” I stuttered.
“Thanks. And, Clay?” Maggie said quickly before I could hang up. “Happy Birthday,” she whispered and then I heard the click indicating she had hung up.
“Thanks,” I muttered to no one in particular before hitting the end button on the telephone. I gripped the phone in my hand and had to suppress the urge to smash it against the wall. But I loosened my hold and dropped it on the table. I leaned back on the couch and covered my face with my hands.
Well that went way worse than I pictured it in my head. Yeah, I can admit that I had clung to the delusion that Maggie would want to talk to me. That she would be over the moon to hear from me. What a fucking joke.
Sitting up, I pushed a pile of papers on the table, watching them flutter to the floor. Then I noticed the pair of scissors that had been underneath. Picking them up, I pressed the tip of my finger to the sharp edge and winced at the sudden slice of pain. And just like every other time before, I felt like I was in a tunnel and all I could focus on was the physical sensation of the slice. Anything to take away the pain inside. If I could focus on the other, the heartbreak wouldn’t feel so bad.
I pushed my finger onto the blade of the scissors until I saw a bright blot of crimson come to the surface of my skin. It was fascinating; the way the blood rushed out and dripped down my knuckle. So I pushed a little harder and started to slide the scissors down the length of my finger. All the way to my palm. A straight line of perfect red. Pain, real and constant flooded through me and for that brief time, it brought relief.
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice called from the door way and I dropped the scissors onto the table. I pulled a tissue from the box and deftly wrapped it around my finger, pressing into the cut, trying not to enjoy the bite I felt at the contact.
Maria was frowning, her arms crossed over her chest. She was staring pointedly at my hand, which I hastily shoved into the pocket of my jeans as I stood up. Now that my moment of weakness was over, I felt the shame and guilt that always accompanied my cutting. I felt my complete failure for giving into the urge.
“Maria. Hey. I just called Lisa…” I started, proud of how steady my voice sounded but my friend cut me off.
“Cut the bullshit, Clay. If you were talking to Lisa, then I just got off the phone with the Pope. I’m not stupid.” She glared at me. I walked over to her and nudged her playfully with my shoulder.
“It’s all good,” I said as convincingly as possible. Maria rolled her eyes, in a way that was entirely too reminiscent of Maggie. I swallowed hard and clenched the hand in my pocket until my hurt finger started to throb again. Once I felt the pain, I felt the tightness in my chest ease up a bit.
This was so screwed up. Maggie used to be the one that kept me from cutting, now she was the very thing hurtling me toward it. I wanted to pull my hair and scream. I was so beyond sick of being this fucked up guy!
Maria must have recognized my deadened expression because she didn’t push me to explain what had happened. That was the cool thing about her, she had enough of her own darkness to know when to leave me alone with mine.
“Come on, let’s go watch the rest of the movie. Nothin’ like a little Will Ferrell to make things all better.” Maria wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me in the direction of the common room. I wasn’t really up for company right now, but I let Maria pull me along anyway.
And the truth was I was sick and tired of living this fucked up drama I called a life. Watching some stupid comedy may be just the thing I needed. The thing to stop me from obsessing about Maggie May Young for the rest of the night. Because god knows that would only mean more cutting and more shame.
I had been doing so fucking well. Just when I thought I had turned a corner, I hit the wall at a hundred miles per hour. Enough of this shit! I forcibly put Maggie out of my mind, convincing myself that it was high time I moved on. Isn’t that what I wanted for her? To have a normal life full of normal relationships? Something that made her happy?
Well it was time I started wanting the good stuff for myself as well. And while I would never give up on my love for the girl in Davidson, Virginia; I had to try and learn to live my life without her in it. Because tonight’s conversation made it very clear that a life together wasn’t in the cards. Particularly while I was still far from being the person I wanted to be.
That phone call had been the ultimate test. And I had failed big time. There would be no do over. This was it. I had been obsessing since leaving Virginia about talking to Maggie again. How would she react? How would I react? Well, I had my answer. And if it wasn’t the one I wanted, it was the one I was stuck with.
I could either wallow or whine about life not being fair or I could suck it up and find something else to live for. And maybe, for once, it should be for myself.
A bunch of our friends called out greetings as Maria and I entered the common room. This was good. This was what I needed. I wrapped an arm around Maria and gave her a quick squeeze before letting her go.
She looked up at me smiled. “I think you could use some leftover birthday cake,” she said seriously and then laughed when Tyler and Greg piped up stating t
hat they wanted their own slices. Looking around the room, I was happy with this tiny bit of life I had carved out for myself at Grayson. I just wish I could take this with me when I left.
Because I wasn’t so sure the life I had waiting for me on the outside was one that I wanted.
***
“So you cut again,” Dr. Todd said, steepling his fingers under his chin. It was the day after my birthday and I had come clean with my therapist. I had thought seriously about not telling him. About keeping it my little, nasty secret.
But then I would be backsliding even more. And last night was all about revelations. And I was through with sabotaging myself. Even as I had thought I was getting better, my ugly subconscious was lying in wait to fuck it all to hell. So I was taking this bitch by the horns and dealing with it.
I laced my fingers behind my neck and leaned back on the leather couch in Doc’s office. “Yep. I did. And it felt good for about thirty seconds and then…” I trailed off, pulling my hands apart so I would stop stroking the scabbed cut with my thumb.
“Then…” Dr. Todd prompted. I blew out a breath, and pushed my hair out of my face. I forced myself to make eye contact with the man who waited expectantly for my answer. There was no judgment there, no disappointment that I had relapsed. Only patience and understanding. Damn this guy was good.
“And then I felt horrible about it. Mad at myself, you know?” I started to bounce my knees up and down. I was agitated and edgy. I had already gnawed the skin off around my fingers and had begun to pick at the hole in my jeans.
“Good,” Dr. Todd said forcefully. I blinked at him in surprise. Huh? Had he just said it was good that I felt like shit? That didn’t seem right.
“Excuse me?” I said a little angrily. Dr. Todd leaned forward, his eyes intense as he looked at me.
“I said good. I’m glad you felt like crap. That you were mad at yourself.” I opened my mouth to say something that would have definitely been dickish but Dr. Todd kept going. “Because if you’re feeling horrible about it, then you’re not feeling good because you did it. Yes, you felt the euphoria at first, but the fact that you started to feel the shame and guilt afterward proves that you are starting to rework the way your brain responds to the pain. That it’s not the escape it used to be. You’ve reframed your feelings about cutting and that’s a huge step, Clay.” Dr. Todd smiled and I sat there sort of dumb struck.
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I cut. That I felt like cutting after talking to…” I stopped, realizing that I had yet to come clean about my late night phone call last night.
Dr. Todd narrowed his eyes. “You called Maggie,” he stated. I nodded. No sense in denying it. So I waited for the expected chastising. The millions of reasons why it was a bad idea to contact her. If she drives me to cut, I wasn’t ready to communicate with her yet. Blah, blah, blah.
But damned if the good doc didn’t surprise me once again.
“I’m glad.” My mouth dropped open. I was extremely confused by this turn in things. Dr. Todd chuckled at my reaction. “I’m not going to berate you, Clay. I think you need to learn to face obstacles, not avoid them. You’ve been dealing with a lot of complicated emotions when it comes to Maggie. And for the first time, I feel like you’re really taking charge of your life. You’re finding your control.”
“Uh, but I cut myself afterwards. Isn’t that…I don’t know, counterproductive or something?” I was looking for the punch line. The “Just kidding, you’re a royal screw up.” But it didn’t come.
Dr. Todd picked up his notepad and pen and started writing. “Yes, you did. And you had a right to feel the anger, the hurt, the pain. Those emotions are okay because they’re yours. You don’t have to explain to anyone, let alone me, why you feel the way you do. And you met those feelings head on, Clay. In the past you attempted to avoid any and all situations that elicited a strong emotional response from you. But you went head first into something that you knew would be hard for you. That takes courage. And you should be proud of the fact that you fought hard to not let your fear stop you from doing something you knew that you needed to do.” Dr. Todd put the pen down and looked at me again. “It’s important for you to try and not focus on the act of cutting, instead look at the way you were feeling. Identify the triggers and figure out an alternate response. Let’s review your self-harm plan and see if there’s anything you could change or add.”
We spent the next ten minutes going over the plan we had devised together in my first week of treatment. It outlined ways for me to cope that didn’t involve self-harming behaviors. Okay, so I had been a bit of a shit when I had first written it. Because there was no way in hell I’d “pick flowers” or “hum a Mamas and Papas song.” I was also pretty sure that Dr. Todd knew I had been mocking the whole process when we had compiled the list. Because he wouldn’t let me take things away, only add to it. It was damn embarrassing to see some of the crap I had put down because I was being an oppositional jack ass. But I guess that was the reason I couldn’t remove them. Touché Dr. Todd. Touché.
“Thanks, Doc,” I said sincerely, realizing we were at the end of our session. I picked up my journal and headed for the door. Dr. Todd followed me out. He clasped my shoulder, a first for him.
“I’m proud of you, Clay.” And the validation was something I needed so desperately that I could have cried with the relief of it. I nodded my head and tucked my journal under my arm as I headed back to my room, feeling like things were clicking into place. Just the way they should be.
Chapter Seven
-Maggie-
I sat on the cold ground stretching out my legs, bending low over my knees until I could touch my skin with my nose. Maybe I was weird but I loved to feel the burn in the back of my calves and thighs as my muscles were pulled taut. The late March afternoon was uncharacteristically cold. I could see my air puffing out in front of my lips as I tried to loosen up my body for track practice.
“Hey, Mags!” I looked up to see Daniel and the rest of the soccer team heading into the gym for their conditioning. I gave my friend a distracted wave as I got to my feet. I leaned down between my legs, resting my palms flat on the track surface and counted to ten before raising my arms up over my head.
“Need any help?” Jake stopped in front of me, giving his signature flirty grin. I cocked an eyebrow but didn’t respond. “I can get you to stretch muscles you didn’t even know you had,” he teased and I snorted.
“Please save your witty charm for someone it will actually work on.” I shot him a pointed look and reached down to get my water bottle. Jake laughed. He was never put off by my abrasive attitude. I wasn’t sure if that was comforting or just really obnoxious.
Jake came up beside me and took the bottle out of my hand and put it to his lips, taking a drink. He really had a problem with personal boundaries. Eating my food, drinking from my bottle, it was a habit I needed to break. Before I started breaking other things. Like his knee caps. “You wound me, Maggie,” Jake teased, clutching his shirt over his heart.
I didn’t bother to say anything, knowing that if I encouraged him he’d never stop and I had to start my training. There were some days I enjoyed the playful banter but today wasn’t one of them. I’d been in a horrible mood since last week.
Well, since Clay’s out of the blue phone call to be exact. I still couldn’t believe he had actually called me after all this time. Though wasn’t that what I was hoping would happen when I gave Ruby the present? Didn’t I want that to illicit a response from him in some way?
Whatever my subconscious reasons, I had still been pissed by his attempt at casual. I had found it extremely insulting that he could call me after months. After everything we had been through together and ask me how I was doing! If he had been within smacking distance I would have done just that. My rage switch had been flipped and the only thing I wanted to do was hurt him. To wound him as deeply as he had wounded me.
Clay had always made me act irrationally.
&
nbsp; So I had been bitchy and dismissive. And after I had hung up the phone I felt horrible all over again. I spent the rest of the night beating myself up for not trying to have a conversation with him. I had missed out on the opportunity to talk to him, to see how he was doing. How many times had I moaned about the fact that I just wanted to know he was okay?
But in those five minutes we had been on the phone, my pride had gotten the better of me and I had ruined my chance to restart a dialogue. To try and repair some of what had been broken.
It was too late now, though. Because I was damn sure Clay wouldn’t bother calling me again. I mean why would he?
I was such a jerk.
“My mom called me a few minutes ago and told me I got my early admission letter from the University of Virginia. It was thick,” Jake was saying. I pulled myself out of my Clay obsession. Okay, I needed to come up with a friendly and supportive response here. But I was feeling anything but friendly or supportive. Maggie “bitch face” Young was out to play and I didn’t see her taking a nap anytime soon.
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