Light in the Shadows

by A. Meredith Walters

  “I get it. It’s fine.” What a lie. I was feeling absurdly rejected. I had always been the aggressor in the physical side of our relationship. I suppose, I was hoping this once, I wouldn’t have to be. It was stupid and immature but when you’re in the heat of the moment, only to be denied what your body wants so badly, it’s hard to see things logically.

  “Maggie. Please don’t look like that. I love you. There is nothing in this world I want more than to make love to you. But let’s just take this slow. It will be better in the long run. For both of us.” His pleading made it difficult to stay miffed.

  I laid my head down on his shoulder, turning my face into his shirt and kissed the spot just above his heart. “Okay,” I said quietly. Clay held me tightly to his side and we were quiet. And for the time being, it was enough.

  Chapter Nineteen

  -Clay-

  Trying to fit years of work into a few short months was daunting, if not impossible. Here I was, a month out of treatment and I was attempting to run before I had even learned to walk. Sure, I was doing better. I was making strides to do things different, to break preexisting patterns. But I was a fool in thinking I was “okay.”

  Every day was a testimonial to how far I had come. But there were a thousand moments that reminded me of how stupid I was being for trying to promise Maggie, Ruby, myself, anything when I was in no position to do so.

  The dark voice in my head, while not as loud, still taunted me. It tried to tell me that I wasn’t ever going to get better. The urge to hurt myself was overwhelming. And for every smile I forced onto my face, it was followed by the fight to keep it all together.

  But I was following my treatment plan. I never missed a therapy appointment. I made sure to take my medication twice a day as prescribed. But the niggling doubts began to resurface the longer I was in Davidson.

  Did I really need the medicine?

  Come on, wouldn’t I feel so much better if I was just able to live without it? Remember how awesome it was? How I felt on top of the world?

  What could it hurt? Missing a day or two? No one would have to know.

  I was fighting an enemy every single day. And his name was Clayton Reed.

  The only difference this time was I refused to bottle it up inside and hope it would go away. Or even worse, cave into the demands of the voice inside me. I spoke with Shaemus about how scared I was. About the urges that at times seemed to eat me alive.

  He started having me journal again (just freaking fantastic). He wanted me to write down each and every time I had the desire to hurt myself. I was supposed to focus on what I was feeling, what triggered it. He didn’t try to hide from me the fact that he was worried. He shared that the likelihood of relapse for someone with Borderline Personality Disorder was huge. He suggested that the Tegretol may need to be adjusted to combat my manic symptoms.

  And then we would talk about voluntary readmission to a mental health facility. Sometimes that sounded like a good idea. Other times, not so much.

  Every day I came home to an aunt who was barely able to get out of bed in the morning. She had started to see a grief counselor, at my insistence, but I wasn’t seeing any change yet. But just like my own progress, it would happen over time. The house that had once felt warm and safe was now an empty shell.

  But there was Maggie.

  And that was both the brightest part of my day and the darkest. Because with all the journaling I was doing, it was clear my trigger hadn’t changed. It seemed that my most negative emotions were somehow still tied to the girl who loved me.

  I had lost it during my last therapy session. I had ripped the pages out of my journal and thrown them away. I had wanted to grab the pair of scissors on Shaemus’ desk and cut myself wide. The tears had been furious and intense.

  Shaemus didn’t bat an eyelash. Thankfully he was like Dr. Todd in that way. He had simply told me to take deep breaths, to focus on something else and walked me through pulling myself together. It had taken awhile and I had gone over my session time by twenty minutes.

  When my tirade was finished, he started talking about my returning to Grayson. He had spoken with Dr. Todd and they could arrange for a place for me in two weeks.

  “I know you want to be here, for Ruby, for Maggie. But what good are you to either of them when you are in pain? They wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your health for them,” Shaemus had asked me gently. I hadn’t been able to argue with that.

  I had left my therapy appointment feeling defeated. I was a failure. Convinced that I couldn’t be in this town a moment longer. But I had gone home to find Ruby curled up on the couch, fast asleep, clutching Lisa’s coat in her hands. The evidence of her drying tears on her worn face.

  How could I leave her? Not when she was like this.

  I hadn’t called Maggie that night. Worried that just the sound of her voice would either reinforce my desire to stay or make me want to get the hell out of there. How could my love for her be so fucking conflicted? It wasn’t fair to her. Not after everything.

  But when I had woken up in the morning, I felt good. Happy even. The events from the day before a hazy memory. And I had picked Maggie up for school and just being around her put any thoughts of leaving firmly out of my mind.

  How many times in my life had I convinced myself that everything would be fine? It seemed that some things really hadn’t changed.

  Particularly where Maggie was concerned. Becoming consumed by her was dangerous territory. One that I had traversed before with horrific results. But it was such a beautiful way to fall.

  Maybe it was time to get Maggie to come with me to therapy. I was sure that this was a proactive way of taking control of my life.

  “Do you think you could come with me to Shaemus’ office tomorrow after school?” I asked Maggie as we walked into the cafeteria for lunch. I had taken to eating with her, Rachel and Daniel again. And so far, it hadn’t been completely awkward.

  Rachel and I had developed a bond of tentative respect since working together at Bubbles. She no longer avoided me and even tried to engage in conversation when we had our breaks. I knew her efforts had more to do with Maggie than it had to do with me, but I appreciated it nonetheless.

  And Daniel. His antagonism had surprisingly died down. I knew he still watched me, waiting for the moment he had to intervene. But thankfully there hadn’t been a need. Despite my inner craziness, outwardly I was working my ass off to show the world I was a changed man.

  It was exhausting being two separate people. I was beginning to wonder which was the “real” Clayton Reed.

  Maggie stopped just inside the doorway to the overly loud lunch room and looked up at me. Her eyes were soft and I knew she understood how hard it was for me to open this part of myself to her. I hadn’t been able to do it last time, but this time, I would.

  “Sure. I’ll just switch my shift at the coffee shop with someone.”

  “If it’s too much of a hassle, we can do it another time,” I assured her. Maggie gripped my forearm, her fingers digging into my skin.

  “No, I’ll be there,” she said emphatically and I leaned down to kiss the top of her head. I felt the sensation of eyes on me. When I looked up I saw that fuckwad, Jake Fitzsimmons staring at us. He looked extremely unhappy at seeing Maggie and I together.

  Maybe it was juvenile, but I couldn’t help but sling my arm around Maggie’s shoulders and smirk at Jake, who had yet to look away. I felt a flash of sadistic satisfaction at the way his jaw tensed up right before he broke eye contact. That’s right asshole, she’s mine. Get that through your thick fucking head.

  “Clay?” I realized that Maggie had been talking but I had been so fixated on my testosterone show down that I hadn’t heard her. She followed my line of sight and gave a frustrated snort.

  “Really, Clay? Do you want me to hold my leg out so you can pee on it? How about tattoo your name on my forehead? Leave Jake alone, okay?” She moved out from underneath my arm and I felt my paranoid anger resu
rface.

  Why was she defending him? Was there more to their relationship than I realized? It was irrational but I became suspicious. I grabbed her arm. Not hard, just firmly, so that she couldn’t move away from me. She looked down at my hand gripping her arm and I saw her face go pale.

  I quickly realized what I was doing and dropped my hand. Shit. What was wrong with me?

  “Sorry,” I muttered, running my hand over the spot I had just held, maybe too harshly. Maggie’s arm was tense and I moved back a fraction. “I don’t have any reason to be jealous. I’m being dumb,” I said quietly, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

  “Yeah, you were. I’m not having this conversation about Jake again. It’s stupid.” Maggie hurried off toward our normal table and I wasn’t so sure I should follow. I watched as Daniel and Rachel greeted her and I was relieved that neither of her friends had witnessed our altercation.

  I clenched my hand into a fist and felt like smashing it into the concrete wall beside me.

  See, this is what I was afraid of. The longer I was in Davidson, the closer I came to being that other Clay. It was as though everything I had learned in treatment was being lost in the day to day effort to be normal. Maggie looked up and caught my eye. She didn’t look happy. I couldn’t blame her. I had been a certifiable asshole. A crazy jealous boyfriend. And over what? Because some dude was staring at my girl? How insecure was I that I couldn’t handle that?

  I made a conscious choice then to not run from my gigantic fuck up. I bought my lunch and walked with purpose to the lunch table shared by Maggie and her friends. She didn’t look at me as I sat down beside her. Rachel and Daniel wore similar expressions of distrustful wariness.

  “I’m sorry, Maggie,” I said sincerely, loud enough for her friends to hear. I wasn’t going to hide what I had done. I wasn’t going to act like nothing had happened. I wouldn’t manipulate her into forgiving my shitty behavior. I would own up and hope that she forgave me.

  “I got jealous. I know you and Jake have been close. Especially since I was gone. And he’s always looking at you. And yeah, it pisses me off. But that never gives me the right to put my hands on you. To restrain you or to make you afraid. My feelings have to do with me, not you.” I sucked in a breath and waited for the crucifixion.

  I looked from Rachel to Daniel, ready to accept the stones they wanted to throw. Daniel’s eyes were cool as he assessed me. Rachel looked sad.

  “Do I need to remind you of the fact I will take you out at the kneecaps if you fuck with her, man? Seriously. We are not going to sit around and watch you do this shit again,” Daniel growled and Rachel put a hand on his arm in an effort to calm him down.

  I met his hard gaze and nodded. “No, I don’t need the reminder. I know damn well what you will do. And I’m okay with that. I was a jerk,” my voice cracked and I felt my throat tighten up.

  Maggie shook her head and didn’t say anything. We ate our lunch in uncomfortable silence and I was sure I had screwed everything up all over again. But when Maggie got to her feet she looked down at me, her face heavy with emotion.

  “I’ll meet you after school tomorrow for your appointment. But I’ve got to go.” And with that she left. I didn’t say anything more to Daniel or Rachel. I picked up my tray and left the cafeteria. I didn’t follow Maggie. I thought about leaving her a note in her locker, the way I had done way too many times before.

  But that was something the old Clay would have done. The new Clay had to break the pattern. Even if it was reaching out to strangle me.

  ***

  I waited by my car after school on Thursday. I hadn’t talked to Maggie since yesterday. I knew she was taking a step back. And for once I gave her space. I didn’t stalk her like a psychopath. Though I had tried to call her last night. When she didn’t answer, I simply left her a message telling her that I loved her and left it at that.

  I had met with the guidance counselor again at lunch time. He was really pressing me to make some decisions about after graduation. I was really uncomfortable doing that. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and commit to some idealization of what I wanted for my life. But right now, with things being held together by a thread, I didn’t think that was the smartest idea.

  While goals were important, therapy encouraged them in fact, I just wasn’t ready to put them to paper. Right now, I had to try and get through this vicious backslide I was finding myself in.

  When I saw Maggie walk across the parking lot toward me, I felt like I could breathe again. My heart went into overdrive and I felt almost weak with relief. I had been terrified that she wouldn’t meet me. Not that I would have blamed her if she had turned her back and run as far away from me as she could get.

  But yet here she was. And it reminded me that I had love and support and I was damn lucky. I pushed my hair back off of my forehead, my palms sweating.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d show,” I admitted as she stopped in front of me. She looked beautiful in jeans that fit her narrow hips in a way that put very inappropriate but very hot thoughts in my head. Her teal sweater hung low around her neck and I tried not to be a total pig and peek down her shirt.

  I was a guy after all. I’d have to be dead not to notice how amazing she looked.

  She pulled her hair out of the collar of her jacket and gave me an unreadable look. “I wasn’t so sure I’d show either.” I swallowed thickly.

  “Look if you don’t want to go, I understand. What I did was fucked up,” I started but she cut me off.

  “Stop it, Clay. I’ve thought about this long and hard. That’s all I’ve done for the last twenty-four hours. I’m sick and tired of obsessing over you. I was really hoping we’d be past this. But I think I’m just being naïve, and a little unfair to you. I can’t expect you to morph into super Clay so quickly. It’s only setting you up to fail. While what you did was not cool, I committed to taking this journey with you. And I won’t go back on that. If there’s anything I can do to make this easier on you, then I’ll do it.”

  She stepped closer and narrowed her eyes. “But if you ever touch me like that again, you’re going to find yourself missing a few fingers. Are we clear?”

  I nodded, finding any words inadequate. Maggie took a step back and her face relaxed.

  “Let’s get going,” she said and went around to the passenger side door.

  I hurried so I could open the door for her. I know it was old fashioned but opening her car door was the very least I could do. I went through a few of those super-duper, handy calming techniques as I made my way to my side of the car.

  The air in the vehicle felt thick with tension and I didn’t know what to do to get rid of it. I had always been ill equipped to handle uncomfortable situations. Because they were usually a result of something I had done. And now was no exception.

  For once, Maggie didn’t put on any music, so we rode to Shaemus’ office in complete silence. The rumble of the engine seemed loud in the quiet. I pulled up out front of the non-descript two story brick house with the sign reading “Blue Ridge Mental Health Services.”

  I jumped out of the car and went around to open Maggie’s door. She looked up at the building that held Shaemus’ office. And without saying a word, she reached out and took my hand. Squeezing lightly, she walked with me to the front door.

  We walked into the brightly lit waiting room. His receptionist, Holly, sat at her desk, typing on her computer. She looked up and smiled when she saw us. “Hi, Clay. Just have a seat. Shaemus is running a few minutes late.” Holly had to be in her mid-forties and at least seventy pounds overweight. But she was nice enough. I gave her a slight smile and led Maggie to a small couch in the corner.

  “This is…nice,” Maggie offered, looking around at the worn furniture and off color walls.

  “Not what you were expecting?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “No, I was picturing something more, clinical I guess. You know hospital white walls and chairs that make your back ache. More like an eme
rgency room. This is almost like being in someone’s house.” Her observation was spot on. In fact, there was even a small TV off to the side and fish tank by the window. Sure the features were a little shabby, but it was anything but cold and impersonal.

  We hadn’t been there long when the door in front of us opened and a girl close to our age came out. She was heroin addict skinny, with straggly blonde hair and shrunken eyes. I knew Maggie was trying not to stare but I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. She was asking herself the standard questions. I wonder what she’s doing here? She looks like a drug addict. Is she? Or is she just crazy?

  At this stage in the game, I had long since given up trying to figure out anyone else’s issues. I had enough of my own. The girl’s eyes stayed fixed to the floor as she shuffled out of the office, giving Holly a wave as the receptionist called out goodbye.

  Shaemus came over and I got to my feet. Maggie seemed suddenly apprehensive and I was reminded that this was a lot for her to agree to. Therapy is daunting even for those who do it regularly. I should have prepared her more for what this would be like. But I had forgotten to in the wake of our argument. Yet another shitty thing to add to the growing list of shitty things I had done.

  “Clay! Hello! This must be Maggie.” Shaemus held out his hand for Maggie to shake. She gave him a wan smile and Shaemus looked between the two of us with a jovial grin. He really did look like someone’s balding uncle. When you saw him for the first time, you didn’t see shrink. I could imagine him playing bingo instead of dishing out therapy.

  “Come on back.” He waved us toward his office and I took Maggie’s hand again as we headed inside. I watched Maggie take in her surroundings again before she sat down in one of the overstuffed armchairs in front of a walled up fireplace. Shaemus didn’t have a desk, like Dr. Todd had. There was a small work table off to the side, but he preferred to sit in the middle of the room with his clients. He said that desks were too easy to hide behind and if he expected his clients to be open and forthcoming, then he should do the same.