“I know that seemed like a smart ass question.” Ya think? Okay, she swore, so she’s not being perfectly professional. That’s one point in her favor. “But, so many times, when we have bad break ups, we try to push that person out of our minds as though they have been exterminated, removed from the planet. If we refer to Noah in the present tense, it will be easier to come to terms with the fact that he will continue to exist, and he will move on. It won’t be as much of a shock to your system if you unexpectedly run into him or hear someone mention his name. Your relationship may be over, but Noah isn’t. Does that make sense?”
I nodded and unshed tears burned my eyes. I blinked as fast as I could and looked down at my hands, wringing themselves lifeless. It never occurred to me she might make me cry the first day.
“Gracie. Tell me why you are crying.” She tapped the end of her pen on her hand that held the legal pad.
“I’m not crying.”
“Gracie. We don’t play games in this office. You are here to get better, to talk through the things that brought you here, and to heal. Those things don’t happen without flushing your system of all the pain. Think of it as a plugged-up toilet. The water can’t run smoothly until the shit is out of the way. Right?”
I laughed and nodded, and she handed me the tissue box. That’s two points for Dr. Sylvia Watts. Maybe she would grow on me.
“Tell me what’s making you cry,” she pressed.
I didn’t like being pressed. “My emotions are all over the place. I feel comfortable with Jake, but little things like compliments bowl me over. It’s like he hands me something I don’t know what to do with.”
“Did Noah compliment you?”
I had to think about that for a while. Tears streamed down my face when I formed my answer. “I don’t remember any that weren’t followed by some kind of jab.”
“Tell me more about that.”
“Well, once he told me how stunned he was when he walked into work—that’s where we met—and saw me. He said, ‘I couldn’t believe how hot you were, but then I saw there was barely anything under your shirt. Made me wonder if you were really a guy.’ I guess I eventually started holding back my reactions to his compliments so I could brace myself for the insult.”
“So, in some way, Jake is handing you something foreign.”
I nodded. How pathetic was that? Something as harmless as a compliment could strip me bare.
“How does Jake compliment you?”
“He tells me I’m beautiful all the time.” I rolled my eyes and she jotted something down.
Shit.
“What do you see in your mind when he tells you that?”
“A pathetic girl who let someone walk all over her and hurt her so deeply, she is irreparably broken. I can barely look him in the eye when he says those things.”
“So, Noah taught you how to view yourself.”
I choked out a sob. “I’m sorry for crying so much.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I should be stronger than that by now.”
“Gracie, crying doesn’t make you weak. It’s the strong people who are brave enough to let it all out. Those who keep from crying aren’t capable of processing what is going on inside their minds and in their hearts, so they don’t let themselves feel the depth of their pain. Those who cry are strong enough to take it all in, feel it, and then let it all out. And the friends that walk away from people in your current situation think they’re walking away because you’re too high-maintenance. But they’re actually walking away as a selfish means of self-preservation. They can’t handle the pain. Your tears prove that you can.”
Sylvia stunned me with her words. All these years, I felt weak because I cried almost every day. Sylvia spun that notion and made me see it a different way. Crying was evidence that I was strong. Me. Strong.
“So, let’s move along. What is it about eye contact when Jake compliments you that makes you uncomfortable?”
I never actually thought about it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to process her question as best I could. “I guess part of it is that wall I learned to put up for Noah’s insults after his compliments. But I guess I worry, if Jake looks long enough, he’ll see all the ugly I do. I don’t think I’ll ever see myself the way Jake does.”
“Never say never, Gracie.” Sylvia smiled and jotted some more notes on her tablet.
“When was the first time Noah hurt you in any way?” She pulled her purple frames from her nose, folded them up, and placed them quietly on the side table next to her chair. The rest of the hour, she had me give her a timeline of all the shitty things Noah had done. She said she didn’t want details yet, she just wanted a list of all his offenses. Well, just that list took the rest of the hour.
A quiet chime reminded us that our time was up. Dr. Sylvia smiled at me and leaned forward with her elbows on her pad of Gracie Jordan notes. “You are a survivor, Gracie. You have survived an abusive relationship. What Noah did to you was emotional abuse. You probably forget who you used to be, and that’s because you have spent the last two years trying to mold yourself into someone who wouldn’t piss Noah off or make him stray. We are going to find you, Gracie. I promise.” She held her hand out and I instinctively gave her mine. “I survived a Noah, too, Gracie. The planets aligned when you called for your appointment. The counselor you were supposed to see went into labor last night and I had a cancellation. We have connected for a reason, and I feel so blessed to be working with you.”
She just sank a three-pointer. I was in awe. In one hour’s time, Dr. Sylvia Watts went from a way-too-organized Vera Wang mannequin to someone I would probably never lose touch with. She was right, there was no happenstance; we were meant to find each other.
“Now, I’m going to give you some paperwork to fill out for me.” She walked over and rifled through her filing cabinet, pulling papers out and setting them aside.
“Could Jake come with me some sometime?”
“I think that’s a great idea, Gracie. I’ll give you two sets of paperwork, and you can have him complete a set and just get both back to me when we see each other next.”
I stood, and she handed me the stack of papers. “Do I come back next week?”
“We will schedule you on an as-needed basis. Here’s my card. Call me when you need to see me. Do you keep a journal, Gracie?”
“I do, always have. I love to write.”
“Good. Writing can be the best therapy. Bring your journal with you when you come next time. We can slowly walk through your relationship with Noah and unpack all the—for lack of a better term—shit. We’ll make more room in your heart for Jake.” She smiled sweetly and rubbed my arm.
“Thank you, Dr. Watts.”
“Please, Gracie, call me Sylvia.”
“Thank you, Sylvia.”
Eight
Jake
While Gracie was at counseling, I decided to continue my job search. Part of me hoped fate would just throw something in my lap that would help me with my future career plans, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
I couldn’t wait to hear how Gracie’s first counseling session went, although I had no idea what to expect. Her emotions were all over the map, and she would either say she’s never going back or that she loved it. We were supposed to meet at the Café for lunch, so I had some time before I would get her play-by-play.
It was hot, and there still were no Help Wanted signs anywhere. I walked up and down both sides of College Avenue before ducking into the upstairs restaurant portion of Mitchell’s to grab a drink. I saw Becki sitting alone in a booth. The familiar scent of stale beer and industrial cleaning products brought me comfort somehow. Maybe it reminded me of all the laid back nights I’d been there with Jessica or Sam and Gracie.
Becki looked up, smiled, and pointed to the empty bench across the table from her. I grabbed a water from the cooler and took a seat. She frantically made piles out of the papers spread out in front of her to ma
ke room for me to put my water down. Upstairs at Mitchell’s was a great place to study during the day; it was virtually empty. I assumed the majority of their income came from the weekends when bands played downstairs.
“What’s all this?” I pointed to the mess on the table.
“I changed majors.”
“No more Business classes?”
“Some. I decided I want to be a publicist, so I had to change my major to Communications but still carry a minor in Business. So, I’m taking like four thousand credits this summer. It’s gonna kill me. Mark my words.” She rubbed her temples.
“What are you doing here?” She grabbed my water bottle and helped herself to a sip.
“I was out job hunting and needed a drink. No one is hiring, and I’m not sure how I am going to afford daily trips to the Café with Gracie if I don’t have some sort of income.”
“You know, I was just mentioning something to Gracie that could bring the two of you some hefty cash, and she said I could be her first customer.” She winked and looked me up and down.
“I don’t even want to know.” I shook my head but was thankful for Becki and her goofball personality. She was good for Gracie. I was sure, whatever her inappropriate plan was, it would have made Gracie giggle. That was good.
“Jake, how is she, really?”
Becki’s concerned look comforted me for the mere fact that it helped me to know I wasn’t overreacting to some of the cues I was getting from Gracie.
“I don’t know, Becki. She seems fine sometimes, bright and bubbly. And then other times, she spirals downward and crumbles into a very self-conscious little girl. I get a glimmer of hope when she’s happy and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, but when her mood shifts, it makes me wonder if she was faking her good mood for my benefit, ya know?”
“Jake, she loves you so much. You are everything she needs. She told me she feels like two different people, when she just wants to be one...a strong one.”
“She doesn’t deserve this.” I pounded lightly with my fist on the table.
“You’re right, Jake. She doesn’t. No one does. But this is her life right now, and we have to help her lose the guilt from all the things Noah did to her. She also needs to learn how to stand on her own two feet. You are the biggest support system she has, but...” Her eyes dropped to the table, and that’s when it hit me.
“But, I might be her biggest crutch, too.” I felt like every last molecule of air was sucked from my body. “All I want to do is help her heal and protect her.”
“Jake, you two are soul mates. I have no doubt. But as her best friends, part of our responsibility is to step back and let her stand up for herself.”
I folded my arms on the table and laid my head on them. I took a couple deep breaths and lifted my head. “She had her first counseling session today. I can’t wait to hear how that went.”
“Yeah, me too. Counseling was great for me when my parents got their divorce.”
“Don’t they have a support group for people like us, Becki? They have support groups for families and friends of addicts. We need to start a support group of our own. But we need a cool acronym.” I smiled to try to lighten the mood.
“Great idea, Jake.” She looked up toward the ceiling and tapped her chin. Her mouth moved like she was sounding out words, but I couldn’t read her lips to know where she was going with my idea. “How about Fogwood? And since our focus is not on addiction, we could serve alcohol at our meetings. So many people would come just for the free drinks, but it would look like our support group was super successful. We’d be on the news and everything. There would be Fogwood shirts and hats. Then maybe we could...”
“Fogwood? Like fog and wood?” I rapped on the table with my knuckles.
“Duh, Jake. No. F-O-G-W-D-D. I thought you were the smart one. It stands for Friends Of Girls Who Date Dickheads. Geez, get a clue, dork.” She cackled one of her Becki laughs and knocked some of her papers into her lap and onto the floor.
She bent down to pick them up when the head bartender, Buzz, stormed through the back door. He appeared to be in some sort of angry zone, and when he got close to our table, he yelled, “SHIT! FUCK! DAMN!”
Thud.
“Ow, you asshole!” Becki was spooked my Buzz’s obscenities and banged her head on the underside of the table.
“Sorry, hon.” Buzz rubbed her head when she sat back up. He looked around like he needed to tell someone what had him so uptight, but no one else was there. He grabbed his phone from his nifty belt holder and stormed behind the counter.
“Duke, dude, we lost another bartender. Stupid kid decided to raid the bar and make everyone a surprise drink before I got downstairs for their interviews, and four of the seven of them puked and had to go home. I told him not to come back, but now we need another bartender to fill the training class.”
Becki looked at me with wide eyes. “Jake! There’s your job! Hey, hey, Buzz, he wants the job!” Becki jabbed her finger in my direction. “Can he have the job? Buzz!”
“Shit, Becki, relax!”
Buzz held his phone away from his face and walked over to our table. “You serious?”
“I’ve been walking around town for days looking for a job, and I got nothin’. I’m totally serious.”
“Duke, I got it covered. See ya.” He hung up and turned to me as he shoved his phone back in his holster. “Training starts next Wednesday. Wait! Are you twenty-one?”
“Yep, for a whole month now.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jake.”
“Well, Jake, consider that your interview. See you next Wednesday, six o’clock sharp.”
“Thanks, Buzz. I’ll be here.” I was so stoked to be able to cross job-hunting off my list. I pulled my phone out to put the training in my calendar and noticed the time.
“Shit, Becki. I’m supposed to meet Gracie at the Café in two minutes. I gotta go.”
“Okay, Jake. Nice talking to you. We need to do it more often.” And that quickly, her attention was diverted.
“Hey, Buzz. What was the drink the kid made?”
“A Hot Mexican Hooker.”
“What’s in it?”
I was curious, so I stopped before heading out the door to hear his response.
“Tequila, Tabasco Sauce and the juice from one can of tuna.”
I didn’t even stay around to hear Becki’s reaction. Just the thought of that drink made my stomach crave fresh air and deep breathing. I made a mental note; no matter how drunk I was, I would never to let anyone buy me a Hot Mexican Hooker.
Nine
Gracie
I left Sylvia’s office, grabbed my phone from my bag, and tucked the ear buds into place. Something inside me felt stronger than it had before I walked into Student Health. I had never before opened up to someone I didn’t know. Hell, up until that point, I had only opened up completely to one person, Jake. As the music pumped through my skull, I felt drawn to The Garage again. Jake had decided to do some job-hunting, so I had some time to kill before I needed to head to the Café. I smiled at the thought of Jake and I needing jobs just to pay for everything we would eat and drink over the summer.
My slow gate fell into step with the beat of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.” I put my phone in my breast pocket and twirled the bottom edge of my flannel shirt, holding it in place as the sweet summer breeze tried to pull it from my shoulders. I adjusted the diagonally placed strap of my messenger bag so both my hands were free.
The song reminded me of my guitar teacher. He had been unorthodox and hadn’t taught me a thing about music theory or guitar basics. We had jumped right in with Van Morrison. With his weathered, wrinkled hands, he taught me the chords I needed to know, and the strumming pattern, then sent me on my way. The following week, he taught me a Tom Petty song. The next week, we mastered “Give a Little Bit” by The Goo Goo Dolls. That’s the song I was playing in the store when I had that beautiful Martin in my hands. I took
my phone out and scrolled through my music until I found that song. I hit play and put it back in my breast pocket. Before I knew it, I was walking into The Garage, but it felt more like floating.
I could hear an acoustic version of “Golden State” over my own music. It played from the iPod dock behind the counter, which was actually just a bunch of shipping palettes bolted together. I stood still for a second, trying to place the female voice. I closed my eyes to focus. Eddie Vedder’s voice blended perfectly with her twang...who was that? I was lost in the music, in the lyrics that made me smile. Natalie Maines. Her voice was mesmerizing. I remained still for another moment and soaked it all in.
I walked over to the guitar wall, pulled a Martin off the wall, and took a seat on the stool. Although I didn’t see anyone, I assumed Yaz and Van were in the back. I swung the strap of my bag over my head and let it fall to the floor so I could make room for the guitar strap. I hit the “back” button on my phone, dropped it in my lap, and closed my eyes. My breathing slowed, and that familiar, silent call to the right strings and frets had me strumming along with John Rzeznik’s voice. I was lost. My body melded with the smooth wood of the instrument in my lap, and my heart sang out as I rocked back and forth with the sway of the soft beat. I nodded my head as the words flowed into my mind. I let go of everything so I could feel every nuance of emotion. Butterflies filled my stomach, and goose bumps raised from my wrists up to my shoulders and around to the back of my neck. A tear dropped from my cheek and hit my strumming hand. My voice quivered...
My voice? I was singing? How embarrassing!
I stood quickly to put the guitar back, and my phone slipped from my lap and yanked the ear buds out, only for the music to be replaced with one word, “Wow.” But that word didn’t come from my mouth.
I slowly turned and was met with eyes the color of evergreens bordered by thick black lashes. A long curl dropped from behind his ear and bounced to his cheek. Calon, the unbelievably talented and stunningly beautiful lead singer of Alternate Tragedy, my favorite local band that had recently turned somewhat famous. He oozed sex all over the place. I had to forcibly hold my jaw in place to keep it from dropping open.
On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep Page 5
