by Lisa De Jong
“Well,” he asked, changing the subject, “what have you been up to lately?”
“Just busy with work. I got a new client this week, so I’ve been busy with intake stuff. And, of course, Alexis keeps me burning the roads with school and dance. The busy life of a teenager. She keeps me on my toes.”
“I bet,” he said, sounding genuinely interested.
“How about you?” I asked. I wondered if he’d start spouting off about the number of women who’d thrown themselves at him this past week. It was all over social media.
He suddenly sounded distracted as he rambled, “Eh, I’ve been busy. We play shows three to four nights per week. It’s rough sometimes, and this rat trap tour bus sucks ass sometimes…shut up, Jeremy…but we manage. Sorry, my asshole drummer is annoying me.”
I could hear Jeremy in the background making lewd remarks.
I laughed, reminded of my own younger brother and the way he used to pester me while I was on the phone. “You sound like brothers.”
He laughed. “Oh, we are. And I’m getting ready to kick his ass like the big brother that I am,” he said pointedly at Jeremy. “Go away, dude.”
I heard Jeremy through the phone, “Who are you talking to?”
“It’s Salem.”
“Salem?” Jeremy asked. “Does Salem want your dick the way Amanda does?”
“Shut the fuck up, bro,” he snapped.
“Amanda?” I teased, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Chris sighed. “He’s just being a dickhead. There is no Amanda. He’s just messin’ with you.” Turning his attention to Jeremy, he growled, “Get out of here, asshole!”
I heard Jeremy’s muffled laughter as Chris tried to move to a more private area to talk.
“Sorry,” Chris apologized. “He’s already drunk. We have the night off, and he’s just getting started.”
I remembered my college days and how much fun we had partying on Thursday nights. Wow, to have that kind of freedom again. I wasn’t sure at my age if that would be a good thing or a bad thing though. I guess, in some ways, both.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I understand. You live the ultimate party scene as a celebrity rock star.”
Sounding bored by it all, he said, “Yeah, things can get kinda crazy around here sometimes.”
I chuckled, just in case I’d misinterpreted his tone. “I bet so. I remember my college days well. Now I just lead this boring life, day in and day out.”
“I think that’s why I envy you.” His voice was low, soft and personal.
It shocked me. “Envy me? There’s nothing spectacular about my life. I can assure you.”
He sounded wistful with his response. “Yeah, you’re settled down. You have a steady job, a house, a home-cooked meal every night…That sounds like the fucking life.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. I have bills I can barely pay. I never go anywhere except work and home, and occasionally the grocery store. I have to cook and clean, do laundry, scrub toilets. Oh, it’s definitely the life.” My voice was heavy with sarcasm. Grinning, I continued, “I’d much rather have room service, meals I don’t have to slave over, and so much money I don’t know how to spend it all.”
“Trust me. This life is not all that glamorous.” The hollowness in his voice indicated how empty he felt. “I mean, yeah, I have all that stuff which is nice, but I also have crazy men with cameras following me around all day, documenting my every move. I almost never spend the night in the same bed twice, except on this tour bus with this wood composite bed and paper thin mattress. I miss home, family, and people far away, who I’d much rather be spending time with.”
My breath lodged in my throat. Like me?
He continued, breaking my heart with how lonely he sounded. “I’m not kidding, Salem. It’s been a rough few months. From bumping into Kaitlyn again recently and all that stemmed from that, to being back on the road on this never-ending tour, then bumping into you again in Charlotte. My head has been a mess. I’m a fucking wreck. Sometimes I miss those days when I could just sit in your office and talk.”
“Sometimes I miss those days too…” my voice trailed. Because in some ways I did miss those days, but in other ways, I didn’t. That seventeen year old boy was special to me, but now…It still scared me to let myself think of the possibilities of what could happen between us.
“I think I respected and trusted you more than anyone in my life. When no one else in my life could even begin to get through to me, you always did. Finding someone like you was a blessing. I moved around a lot in school, so I never really had a lot of friends. My kid brother was exactly that—a kid. I had my mom, but you know how moms are. And I had my dad, but he was locked away in prison.” He paused, and for a moment I could almost feel the heat of his breath through the phone. “Then there was you.”
Whoa. My eyes closed, and I inhaled a staggering breath. My emotions were all over the place. I felt a pull so strong from our past that it was so easy to reconnect like this, talking and laughing as if it were yesterday. But at the same time, I found myself withholding a feeling deep inside—one I couldn’t quite put my finger on…or was afraid to, really. Something about it felt wrong because he was once a client, so I bottled it up and tried to ignore it.
Chris kept talking, unloading as if it were a speech he’d been preparing all these years. “I made a connection with you that I never expected. You always listened to me. You never judged me. You always had the right thing to say. You were always there when I needed you. There will never be anyone who could fill your shoes.”
I swallowed hard against the tickle in the back of my throat. “Thank you, Chris,” I rasped. “That really means a lot to me.” His words blew me away. I never expected to hear all of this tonight, but I couldn’t help the knot that formed in my stomach when I did.
Continuing, he murmured, “It’s hard not having someone in my life like you were to me all those years ago. I mean, juvie sucked, but you always made me smile. And still, just thinking back—about you—I still smile.”
My heart leapt in my chest. The idea of him thinking about me made me smile too. Then, I remembered those days I’d walk down the halls of Fairbanks, barely able to function under the weight of my depression, and Chris would flash me that smile that always warmed my heart.
“You made me smile too, Chris. Those years at Fairbanks were some of the best years of my career. I miss it sometimes.”
“You ever hear from Malik or the other boys?”
I sighed, remembering the other boys. “No. For the most part, when any of you left, I never heard from or saw you again. It was hard at first, but I learned to accept it. It is what it is. Life.”
“I always regretted never keeping in touch with you,” he admitted. “But, like you said, life happens. I was young and immature, and once I got out of there, I hardly gave Fairbanks another thought.”
“I know…” I said sadly, remembering what a fleeting moment I was in many kids’ lives—a very influential moment, but a fleeting one nonetheless.
“I’m sorry,” he said regretfully.
“Don’t be. I’m happy for you. If you had dwelled on Fairbanks then you would have landed yourself right back in there again. I’m glad you kept moving forward. I mean, look at you now.”
“Thanks,” he said. His voice cracked, so I knew he was smiling through the phone. “I just want you to know how much you meant to me back then.”
“Same here,” I admitted, feeling that connection between us snap tight, despite the distance between us, wherever he was, how long it’d been, or how many years had passed. It still felt real, and now it was becoming something…more.
I heard him sigh, soft and satisfied. “Well, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep Jeremy locked out of here. I guess I’d better let you go for tonight.”
I silently groaned. Okay, stop. Don’t let yourself get too attached. “Okay. Have great night.” I could already hear Jeremy
banging on the door in the background, and it made me laugh.
“It was so good to talk to you again. It was great to hear your voice,” he said wistfully.
I wished he was sitting in my living room right now, not in some hotel room far away. “It was great to hear your voice too.”
“Goodnight, Salem. Sweet dreams.” The way my name rolled off his tongue sent shivers up my spine.
“Goodnight, Chris,” I said.
I ended the call and nearly squealed with giddy excitement, but I quickly reined in my emotions. Don’t get your hopes up, Salem. Let it go.
Chapter Eighteen
SALEM
I could barely sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed. Thoughts of Chris and the deep sound of his voice infiltrated my mind. An early morning call jarred me from my semi-lucid state.
“Hello?” I asked as I held the receiver to my ear and glanced at the clock. 4:28AM
“Salem? It’s Jack,” he sounded formal and business-like.
My boss? Why would he be calling me so early?
“Hey, Jack. What’s going on?” I asked, sitting up in the bed, suddenly overcome with dread.
Jack sighed. “It’s your new client, Shelby Blaine. She attempted suicide last night. Her boyfriend found her before it was too late. She’s at Washburn Memorial. She’s asking for you.”
“Oh my god,” I gasped with horror. “I’m glad she’s all right. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thank you for calling me.” I was already out of the bed, pacing the floor.
I hung up the phone, threw on some fresh clothes, and slung my hair up in a ponytail. I needed to get Alexis up and let her know I had to head into work early. I knew she could call Olivia to have her mom, Grace, swing by and pick her up for school.
“Alexis, honey,” I gently shook her shoulder to wake her.
“Hmmm,” she groaned, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up over her head.
I jostled her again. “Alexis, wake up. I need to go into work early. There’s an emergency.”
“What’s going on?” she asked groggily.
“It’s one of my clients. I need to head in early, so you’ll need to call Olivia and ask her mom to swing by and pick you up for school.”
I knew it wouldn’t be a problem since Olivia just lived a few streets over from us. Grace was a single mom too, so between the two of us, one of us was always swinging by to pick up someone for school.
“Okay, Mom,” she said with a yawn.
“Call me if there’s a problem, okay?”
“Okay,” she sighed, closing her eyes again.
I checked the clock again. “Go back to sleep. Your alarm is set, right?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled, rolling over and pulling the blanket over her head.
“Love you,” I whispered, blowing her a kiss.
“Love you, too,” she murmured, quickly falling back to sleep.
I locked up the house and hopped in the car, eager to get to Shelby at Washburn Memorial.
****
The electronic doors slid open and the stale scent of hospital air blasted me in the face.
“Can I help you?” a white-haired lady behind the desk asked with a pleasant smile.
“Yes. Could you please tell me which room Shelby Blaine is in?”
The woman tapped a few keys on the computer then looked back at me. “Room 316,” she said with a wide grin.
“Thank you,” I said in a rush and headed toward the elevator.
When I reached Shelby’s room, I could hear the beep of the heart monitor through the crack in the door. I knocked quietly.
“Come in,” her weak voice squeaked over the resounding, rhythmic tone.
Pushing the thick wooden door open, I peeked my head in. “Shelby?”
Her frail looking body lay under the stark, white hospital blankets. Her bleached, blonde hair with dark roots was pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head.
“Mrs. Honeycutt,” she croaked. “I’m so glad you came.” Tears pooled in her bright, blue eyes and fell down her already tear-stained cheeks.
“Oh, honey,” I cried as I rushed toward the edge of her bed and reached out to her. She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed into the crook of my neck.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you down,” she cried. “I was doing so much better.”
I pulled back, gently brushing the hair off her face. “Shelby, honey, you didn’t let me down. I just want to know what happened.”
She shook her head, wide-eyed with fear. “I’m not sure, really. One minute I was putting Jayce in his crib and the next minute I was in the bathroom taking a handful of pills. I called David at work before I passed out, but I don’t remember what I said. I can’t really remember much of anything, except Jayce’s crying.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as her hands flew up and covered her ears. “I can still hear him screaming through the monitor. I just couldn’t take it anymore, Mrs. Honeycutt.” Lowering her hands, Shelby gritted her teeth and clenched her fists by her side. The feeling I had when I sank into the deep water of the bathtub to drown out Alexis’s crying came barreling back to me as if it had just happened yesterday.
Words tumbled out of Shelby’s mouth as though someone had pulled the wrong block from an unsteady Jenga tower. “I’m not fit to be a mother, Mrs. Honeycutt. I love my son with all my heart, but some days I hate his guts. There’s something wrong with me. I shouldn’t feel like this. I have zero patience. I hate my life. I hate being a mother. I can’t take the constant crying.”
I knew that feeling of hopelessness. I understood the plight of feeling unworthy to be a mother. I empathized with her thoughts of hating her life. I remembered everything all too well.
“Shelby,” I smoothed her hair, consoling her. “You’re a great mother. I’ve seen you interact with Jayce. He’s such a sweet and happy little boy. We all have moments where we need a break or wish things were easier. There’s nothing wrong with that. But sometimes, hormones and chemical imbalances play a factor in our thoughts and feelings, and some mothers need just a little extra help coping with the birth of a child. I know I did.”
Shelby looked at me, wide-eyed with surprise. “You struggled too?” she asked.
I nodded. “Every day for the first six months.”
“What did you do?”
“I sought treatment. I visited a counselor and got on the right medication to help me. The pregnancy care center can help you do that.”
Tears slid down Shelby’s cheeks. “I don’t want to hate my life. I want to be happy. For Jayce. He deserves a good mother. One who doesn’t dread having to deal with him every day.”
“I understand your feelings, Shelby. I’ve been there. I want to help you. I can tell you this. After I got the help I needed, I was a completely different person. I was happier and healthier. You can be, too.”
Shelby nodded. “Thank you. I just wish I had talked to you about this sooner.”
“Me too,” I told her. “Me too.”
I sat by her bed, holding her hand until her boyfriend, David, arrived. He held a sleepy Jayce in his arms.
He rushed to Shelby’s side. Grasping her hand, he looked at me. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I know you didn’t have to be at work until eight, but thank you for dropping in sooner.” David said. “It really means a lot.”
I nodded, humbled by his words. “You’re welcome. I don’t see this as just a job. My clients mean the world to me. I want to do everything I can to help them.” I looked at Shelby. “They will probably transfer you to a psych ward for a few days just to monitor you. Once they feel you are stable enough, they’ll refer you for further treatment, but you’ll be allowed to go back home.” Glancing back at David, I continued, “The best thing you can do when she gets back home is help her out as much as possible. Let her get some good solid sleep, at least on the nights when you don’t have to work the next day. If Jayce gets really fussy, take him for a walk. Get him out of the house for an hour or so and let her h
ave a break. It’s crucial for you to help her as much as possible right now. Okay?”
“I will,” David promised, “I just want her to feel better. I want her to be happy.”
“I just don’t want Child Protective Services to take Jayce away from me,” Shelby said, frightened.
“They won’t, as long as one parent can take care of him.”
David nodded. “I’ve got mom and dad to help out, too,” he assured me.
“Great. Then everything should be fine. Take care of yourself, Shelby. I’ll be in and out to check on you.”
“Thank you Mrs. Honeycutt. Thank you for everything.”
I smiled, squeezed her shoulder, and headed out the door toward my car. I could see a little bit of myself from fourteen years ago in Shelby—that frightened mom who was overcome by feelings she didn’t quite understand—feelings that should have consisted of overwhelming love and joy, but were instead blanketed by resentment and frustration.
I drove away from the hospital thankful that I’d finally found the courage all those years ago to call a therapist and get the help I needed. I was grateful for the chance to talk to Shelby. I hoped that I’d helped her in some small way.
****
A week later I got another text from Chris. After the wonderful conversation we’d had, I’d kind of expected it to be sooner. I was pulling my hair all week. The endless phone checking interrupted my entire week, my job, and my time with Alexis. I was distracted, daydreaming like a teenager with a crush. I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed with each passing day.
Chris: It’s been a busy week, but I just wanted you to know that I can’t stop thinking about you.
I nearly giggled when I read his text, and suddenly a week felt like nothing—until I was standing in line at the grocery store and saw all those tabloid pictures on the magazines.
Chris had been photographed with several different girls. One photograph was taken mid-hug, and in another he was holding one girl’s hand while they walked. What the hell? I slammed my grocery items on the conveyor with such force that the cashier gave me a funny look. Don’t take it out on the produce, Salem.
