by Violet Paige
Chapter Six
My heels echoed in the hall outside the lecture hall. I took at least four deep breaths. Public speaking wasn’t for everyone. And it was one of the reasons I had opted out of trial law. I didn’t like it.
But I had convinced myself teaching wasn’t the same as public speaking. That now seemed ludicrous faced with a class of fifty students.
I was also on trial. Everything I did was observed, recorded, and reported. My residency at American depended on my interaction with students and how they received my teaching methods. It didn’t matter that it was an introductory class. Some of the students were actually pre-law from the undergraduate level.
I only had to get through one class at a time. Today we would go over the syllabus and the schedule. I could drill down into our first cases later in the week.
“Professor Charles?”
I stopped at the door. There were two students blocking my entrance. It sounded strange to hear my name with professor tagged at the front.
“Yes?”
“We’re your mentees for the semester,” the girl explained. She had bright green eyes and her hair was pulled away from her face.
The guy beside her was slightly overweight and much taller than both of us.
“Yeah. I’m Gregory.”
“And Jessie,” she elbowed him.
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were coming to class.”
“We’re supposed to follow you everywhere. Class. The clinic. All of it.”
“All of it?” I hadn’t heard that part of the mentor program. I was surprised. And not prepared.
Jessie nodded. “We will sit in class and observe, but we can help with anything you need. Anything.”
“Oh. All right. Thank you.” I looked at each of them before walking inside.
“Nice to meet you,” they echoed behind me.
I felt unnerved. There were parts of this program that didn’t make sense to me. How was I supposed to be a mentor, when I was still getting my own footing? How could I guide and lead when I needed my own person?
Students were mumbling to each other and setting up their tablets and laptops when I walked in the room. Luckily, it was a small auditorium. I took a few seconds to unload the materials I had prepared and slow down.
I only needed a few brief seconds to frame my perspective. I remembered my first day in law school. I didn’t know the professors’ backgrounds or where they attended school. I didn’t know how old they were or how many years they had practiced law. Later, I found out some of them never had. It didn’t matter. I was too wrapped up in my own journey. My own reasons for being there.
And I was 99 percent sure these students had the same approach. They didn’t care about anything that had happened to me before I crossed that threshold. They had one motivation: pass law school. As long as I helped them do that, the rest was just interference.
I exhaled and smiled.
“Good morning.” I gathered the syllabi in my arms and walked toward the first row. “I’m Professor Charles. Welcome to your introductory trial class.”
I counted out the sheets and passed them to a student on the end.
“Don’t worry. The syllabus is also online, but sometimes it’s nice to have something you can reference if you need to make notes.”
I walked to the second step and counted another section.
“Let’s get started with the expectations for the semester and then you’ll have a chance to ask questions about the papers and exams.”
I walked to the front of the auditorium. Jessie and Gregory both smiled.
I realized there was something empowering about having all eyes on me. They weren’t intimidating. They were listening.
“Please look at page one.”
Chapter Seven
The next week I walked into the office and Addie adjusted her glasses to the brim of her nose. It had taken her three days to return to work. She said she caught a nasty stomach bug. In those three days, I managed to set a record for the most clients seen at the clinic. Not to mention, I brought her mentees onto my team while she was out. They had no one to help them. It felt as if I were running my own law firm. A very mini-non-profit law firm. But I loved it.
Addie did not.
“Meg says you have the files on Haskins, Tate, and Bomstand.”
“Good morning.” I smiled. “Yes, I have those. Do you need them?”
“They are supposed to be my cases, so yes.”
I walked behind my desk and opened the top filing cabinet. “I thought maybe since you missed the first meetings you would be ok with me working on those. There are plenty more out there, Addie.”
She held her palm out to me. She wasn’t the kind of woman who discussed things. She didn’t chit-chat. She didn’t share personal stories. There was no morning coffee together, like I had with Meg.
“I was only trying to help.” I placed the files in her hands and she swiveled in her chair.
My phone buzzed. I looked at the screen and saw my favorite picture of my brother flash.
“I’m going to take this outside,” I announced. “I’ll be right back.”
I wanted her to go easy on the students. It wasn’t their fault she had been out with a stomach virus.
I jogged out of the office and down the hall to the bathroom.
“Garrett?” I answered, out of breath.
“It’s not working. It’s not working.” He was frantic.
“What’s not? What’s happening?”
“They’re making me sick. All the meds they put me on. Tell Mom to stop it. Can you do that?”
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. “Take a big breath for me and tell me what is going on. What are the meds? Are they something new?”
I heard him pause on the other end. I think sometimes that was the hardest part. Garrett listened to me. When he shut everyone else out, he listened to me. And I had left him behind, making his circle even smaller than it was.
“It’s the same stuff,” he groaned.
“Ok, then you know you need to take them regularly. The same time. Every single day. That’s the only way your body is going to find balance. You haven’t given it a chance. You’re on. You’re off. Let the medicine help you.”
“You don’t know what it feels like.” I could hear his breaths becoming more erratic. “They make me tired, like I’m looking through a bubble of glass. I hate them, Elliot.”
I sighed. “I know you do. But how are things going to get better if you don’t try what you have to try?”
“I’m doing this on my own.” He cleared his throat.
“What?”
“I’m moving out. I’m going to detox this crap out of my system.”
I shook my head. If I were with him, I’d shake him. “No, no, no. Just six months. Try six months of staying on a schedule and then if you don’t like how you feel we can try something else, but don’t do this, Garrett. Not like this.”
“I’m tired of fighting with Mom. Dad doesn’t give a shit. I have a buddy who is thinking of going into business with his cousin down at the beach.”
“Business? What kind of business?”
“Setting up a repair shop. Boats, cars, whatever.”
I tried to control the trembles that had started. “You don’t have a background in mechanics. What are you going to do there?”
“Graphic design of course. I’ll do the marketing. The website. They want me to do the logo.”
A woman walked inside with a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five. I tried to smile at them as I slipped out the door and outside. I didn’t want to be too far away from the office in case Addie started searching for me, but I couldn’t leave Garrett in the middle of this.
He was in the middle of one of his highs. A high I had experienced way too often. And I knew what was coming next—the low. But when? How many days or weeks would it take?
“Just listen to me for a minute. I don’t think you have to pick up
and move to work on this opportunity. It’s great they see how talented you are. Because you are an amazing graphic designer. But why not stay at home where you can focus on recovery and then if you have free time, you can freelance for them?”
“No, sis. I’m all in.”
Damn it. I knew that’s what he would say.
“Can we at least talk about this tonight when I get home from work? I want to know who these guys are. Have you looked at their business plan? Where is the shop? What beach? The details are important here.”
He laughed. “Well, here’s the surprise.”
I cringed.
“I’m in the car. Already packed. I’m driving right now.”
“Holy shit. Does Mom know you left?”
“No, but I did leave a note this time so she won’t freak out and call the police.”
“Damn it, Garrett,” I seethed into the phone. “You have an illness and you have to take care of yourself. You’re going to break her heart.” I left out the part about how many times he had broken mine. I had scars that were jagged and deep.
“She’ll be fine. She’s Mom.”
Meg poked her head out of the door and waved me in. I knew the waiting room was full by now.
“Listen, drive carefully. Take your meds, and I will call you tonight.”
“I’ll do two out of those three.” He was laughing. He never took my worry seriously.
“Garrett, please.”
“Stop worrying. Don’t you think if there were something really wrong, you’d feel it? You know that psychic twin connection you always said we have?”
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. I pulled my finger away, smudged with mascara. I did feel it. It was terribly wrong. He was driving off a cliff. Over the side with a smile on his face because he thought he had found freedom. He thought he had broken free from his prison. He always forgot the prison was freedom. He couldn’t exist in the world without medical help.
In two weeks he’d be huddled in the corner of his room, crying and begging his friends to help him hurt himself. He’d call me at all hours of the night, wanting me to get him. His personal detox of whatever stabilizing drugs were in his system would take him to the brink of insanity. He’d stop eating. He’d drink. He’d use any drugs someone offered him to erase the pain.
Last time it was heroin. Before it had been cocaine. He would end up in the hospital, strapped to a bed, being forced sedatives and anti-anxiety medication.
Meg’s arm movements got bigger and bigger. I had to go before she tried to drag me in the building.
“Garrett, we will talk. I love you.”
I hung up and trudged into the building. The women in here counted on me to help them and right now I didn’t know how to help my own brother.
Chapter Eight
I didn’t have the energy to make dinner or even order pizza. Greer texted that she had another late night at the Capitol and was going to spend what was left of it with Preston.
I couldn’t blame her. If I’d had someone, I’d do the same thing.
I made it to the top floor, kicked off my shoes, and flopped onto the couch. I extended my legs to the end of the cushions, massaging the underside of my calf.
Garrett ignored my calls and my texts all days. I tried twice before I left the office, but his voicemail was full.
I closed my eyes for a second and remembered the brother he used to be. He was three minutes younger. Three full minutes that I used to hold over his head. It was hard to think about him that way anymore. All I could see was the illness. And I hated myself for it. There was more to him than that, but he couldn’t get out of his own way. He wouldn’t accept help. He wouldn’t accept his diagnosis. That’s what it always came back to. He rejected that he was bi-polar and manic. Until he was willing to stick with treatment the vicious cycle would never end.
For tonight he was safe. He was on one of his peaks. He had something he looked forward to. He had an outlet for his art. He had friends. It was what was coming next that worried me.
I peeled myself off the couch to pour a glass of wine.
The bottle glugged as the crimson liquid filled the oversized glasses Greer had bought. I wandered to the deck and stooped to turn on the lights.
The first sob came from my shoulders, but the next one from my stomach.
I tried to simultaneously drink the wine while I cried. It was a pathetic attempt. I just needed something.
I’d never experienced loneliness like I had here. The isolation was unbearable tonight. I dabbed at my tears and tried to take a steady breath. I wanted more wine and walked back to the kitchen.
Garrett made me feel helpless. Part of me resented that about him. He made me unable to act. Kept me from being able to help. Prevented me from doing what he needed. It was twisted and unbearable.
He wasn’t thinking about how he affected Mom or me. We were an afterthought. That part always hurt. He wasn’t my afterthought. But maybe this was the consequence for moving so far away. This was his way of shoving my choices in my face. I couldn’t drive to him. I couldn’t stop him. And we both knew it.
I jumped when I heard my phone ring. I rushed to answer, praying Garrett had finally changed his mind, or at least was ready to talk about his new life plans. I only needed to catch him in a moment of clarity in order to reach him. He would listen to me if only I could tap into the sliver of reason I knew he carried with him. It was still there. He was still there.
“Garrett?”
I jerked the phone to my ear without bothering to check the number. I felt frantic.
“No, it’s Vaughn.”
My chest tightened. “Vaughn? Oh.”
Disappointment crested into confusion. I didn’t know what to say. It had been a week since I had made my one attempt to call him. His call was out of place.
“I guess you were expecting someone else.” His voice had a different weight to it, but I had been crying and nothing sounded the same.
“M-my brother, actually.”
“Everything all right?” he asked.
Nothing was all right. It hadn’t been for a long time. I didn’t think I could hold it together any longer. I was too upset about Garrett to sort through why Vaughn had called at this particular time.
“N-no,” I whispered. “Maybe we could talk another time.”
Whatever the instant connection I had felt to him was, it had unraveled over a week of silence. It couldn’t have meant the same to him as it did to me or I would have heard from him. I knew that much about men.
“Are you home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Stay where you are. You don’t sound very good. I’m coming over.” His voice was confident and firm.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” I tried to sound stronger than anything that was a reality.
“I do. I wanted to talk to you, anyway. Tell you where I’ve been all week. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Ok?”
I nodded. “Ok.”
Vaughn hung up and I wondered what had prompted the call. What prompted me to let him back in? We had no ties. No commitments, but his sudden absence at the beginning was a clear sign. I hadn’t even mentioned him to Greer. We had one date. A second date was worth dissecting, but no call after a first date was not.
I had a history. A history of going for the wrong guy.
The unavailable and emotionally removed were my type. And no matter how many therapy sessions I attended, or journals I scribbled in, the type didn’t change.
I swore under my breath every time I wouldn’t make the mistake again. I’d assess the red flags from the beginning and if they were there, I’d end it. Somewhere in the past few days when I hadn’t heard from Vaughn I had made that decision.
It was a big city. Other than a phone number I didn’t know where he lived or where he worked. I could go the rest of my life and never see him again.
But he called.
I walked to the bedroom to assess the dama
ge the crying had done to my makeup.
I splashed water on my face and started reapplying concealer and mascara. I stepped out of my suit and changed into a tank top and a pair of yoga pants. I didn’t bother with a bra. I returned to the deck with my glass of wine and sat to wait.
I left the sliding door open. When I heard Vaughn’s knock I paused for a minute. This was a man I had deemed a red flag. But I felt the rush of jitters in my stomach. I walked slowly, unlatched the lock, and opened the door.
“Hi.” He smiled.
“Hi.” I stepped back for him to walk inside. “Glass of wine?” I offered.
“Sounds good.”
He followed me to the deck.
I handed him a glass and he stepped to the edge of the roof, gazing down to the street. “I still can’t get over the fact that you two have this apartment.”
I nodded, guzzling the glass.
Vaughn on the roof did something to me. It was a big open space, but he captivated me in a way that should be a sin. I could think of nothing else than his lips or his strong hands. The way his shirt fitted the contours of his shoulders. I thought I had remembered those details, but something had happened in the past week. I had forgotten how gorgeous he was in person.
“Greer found it. Not me.”
He turned to face me. “The roommate who is never here?”
“That’s her.”
He nodded. “Seems like that would be a good thing. You have the place to yourself most of the time.”
“It can be quiet.” I didn’t want to open up to him about all the things I felt today. How the loneliness almost choked me when I walked into the empty apartment.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I realize it’s probably a surprise I called or showed up after disappearing for a week.”
I stopped him before he embarrassed me. “You didn’t make any promises or break any plans. You don’t need to apologize.”
He moved closer and I felt the tingles zing through me.
“Actually, I do.”
I didn’t know if I had the energy for this now. It was one more layer of emotion and confusion on top of a heart-wrenching day.
