Light in the Shadows

by A. Meredith Walters

  “You are my last appointment of the day, so we’re in no rush. We’re going to take all the time that we need. Have a seat, Clay. You make me nervous when you stand about like that,” Shaemus joked, waving his hands in the direction of another chair. Maggie looked at my therapist in surprise, clearly taken aback by his candor. It was true that Shaemus took some getting used to. I was still adjusting to his personality. But he hadn’t set off the bitch slap reflex yet, so I suppose we were doing pretty well.

  I met Maggie’s eyes and gave her, what I hoped, was a reassuring smile. Hers was wobbly, but genuine as she made herself comfortable. Shameus took his place in the love seat across from us. He picked up a pad of paper and clicked his pen a few times.

  “Have the two of you had a chance to discuss what you hope to get out of the session together?” Shaemus asked, getting right to the point. Maggie and I shared a glance and I grimaced.

  “No, not really,” I said. Shaemus nodded, obviously not surprised. He clicked his pen again.

  “Maggie, have you ever been to therapy before?” he asked her. Maggie cleared her throat and shook her head.

  “No, I haven’t. My parents wanted me to…uh…see someone a few months ago. But I never did.” I looked at her in surprise. This was news to me. I started to chew the inside of my lip. God, how bad had things been for her if her parents were suggesting therapy?

  Shaemus looked between the two of us again. “This was after Clay left?” he asked for clarification. Maggie’s face began to flush and I knew this was hard for her to admit.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. I wanted to reach out for her hand again. Should I touch her? Would she let me? I didn’t know what to do. This new information had thrown me.

  Shaemus made a noise in his throat. “Can you tell me a little bit about why your parents would think you needed to see someone? Just so I can get an idea of how things were for you.” He didn’t look at me once; his entire focus was on Maggie.

  She squirmed in her seat and shot me another look. This one seemed full of apology and this time I took her hand. Doubts be damned, I needed the physical connection. We needed it.

  Maggie cleared her throat again. “I was depressed. After…everything.” Shaemus interrupted her.

  “It’s okay to say what happened. One of the things Clay and I are working on is facing his choices, his behaviors, head on. We don’t have to dance around them in here. This is a safe place. It’s important that you feel comfortable in voicing your feelings and concerns. These four walls are meant as a sanctuary. But if at any time, you are unable to talk about something, you just need to say so. Communication is essential.” I watched Maggie’s throat move up and down as she swallowed. Her fingers gripped mine painfully.

  “Yeah, so I was depressed. Really depressed after I came home from North Carolina. After Clay had tried to kill himself.” My gut twisted at the reminder of my actions that came from her lips. It wasn’t an easy thing to talk about but to hear her say it made me want to hide under my chair.

  “I wouldn’t leave my room. I had a hard time sleeping. I lost weight. I was pretty pathetic. Anyway, my parents talked about me getting counseling. I knew they were worried. I hated that they were worried, but I couldn’t snap out of it.” A betraying tear slipped down her cheek and I had to look away.

  “What changed for you then? Since you never sought out professional help, I can only assume something did.” Shaemus lifted his pen and made some notes on his pad of paper.

  “I don’t know. I guess I just got sick of feeling sorry for myself. I told myself that Clay wasn’t coming back, that he was trying to get better. And me moping around wouldn’t help him or me.” She looked over at me and her eyes were glassy from tears.

  “And then I got this letter from Clay telling me to move on. That he didn’t want me to wait around for him. Something inside me snapped and I became angry not sad. So, I suppose that helped.” I started gnawing the inside of my lip again. Hearing this was more difficult than I imagined. I bit down hard enough to draw blood, the copper taste oddly soothing.

  Shaemus stopped writing and looked at me, obviously picking up on my anxiety. “And how does this make you feel, Clay? To hear how hard things were for Maggie after your suicide attempt?” Shaemus asked matter of factly.

  Wow, dude wasn’t pulling any punches.

  I stared down into my lap, the hand that still held Maggie’s felt foreign and disconnected. I could barely compute that she was still there with me. I was left alone with my guilt.

  “I feel like shit, alright. I was a selfish dick, is that what you want to hear?” I was getting angry. I wished I wasn’t because anger had never helped me.

  Maggie squeezed my hand and I tried to calm down. I took several deep breaths. “I feel angry. At myself for doing that to her. I feel sad and regretful for all the time I missed. I feel guilty for causing her pain. And mostly I feel like a failure. Because I failed Maggie. And I failed myself,” I whispered.

  I heard Maggie’s soft intake of breath and I looked up at her. Tears fell steadily down her cheeks and her lower lip trembled. Shaemus handed her a box of tissues and she took several Kleenex, wiping her face.

  “Maggie, what do you feel, hearing about Clay’s pain?” Shaemus urged. Maggie never took her eyes from mine as she answered.

  “I feel sad. But I also don’t want him to feel guilty, or ashamed, or any of those things. He’s not responsible for what happened. He was sick.” I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “You don’t think Clay is responsible for his behavior? That he isn’t ultimately culpable for what happened to him?” Shaemus asked her curiously.

  When I opened my eyes it was to find Maggie glaring at my therapist. Her chest heaved with her erratic breathing. “How can you blame him? He couldn’t control himself! He has been suffering from bipolar and Borderline Personality Disorders most of his life! What kind of person would that make me if I blamed him for something he that wasn’t his fault?” Maggie’s voice was getting loud but Shaemus’ neutral expression never faltered. I recognized the look. He was getting ready to shrink her.

  “I’d think you were normal. Human. How can you not blame him for putting you through that? What I’m hearing right now is a young girl who was put in a horrible situation. That’s a lot for someone so young to deal with. No one would blame you for being angry with Clay.”

  Fuck me; this was like ripping your fingernails off. I felt like interjecting something. Perhaps defend myself. But I realized that this session was just as much about Maggie as it was about me. That it was about the fundamental dysfunction of the relationship we had had. Getting Maggie to identify those things were important. Even if it hurt like hell to hear.

  Maggie dropped my hand and covered her face. I shot Shaemus a look but he just held up his hand, watching Maggie closely. Her shoulders shook and I felt horrible for bringing her here. This was beyond messed up. How could I put her through this shit all over again? Making her relive one of the most gut wrenchingly painful periods of both of our lives.

  “Yes, I’m mad at him. I’m furious at him for hurting himself. For leaving me behind and cutting off all contact. But more than that, I love him. And I think…no I know that outweighs everything else.” Maggie wiped the tears from her face and I could see the determined set of her jaw.

  Shaemus smiled. “And that, we can work with. But don’t make excuses for him or for yourself. Denial hurts more than it helps,” he warned.

  We spent the next hour talking about how we communicate with each other. We talked about my jealousy issues and Maggie’s insecurities. I was shocked to hear how little she really thought about herself. And I recognized that I hadn’t done anything to make that better for her. In fact, I had made it ten times worse.

  We discussed what had occurred in the cafeteria yesterday. Shaemus proved to be an excellent sounding board to deal with the way were treating each other. I felt mostly to blame for the problems between us, but Shaemus pointed
out the ways both of us could work on communicating better.

  By the time our session was winding down, I felt like I had run a marathon. I was exhausted. Looking at Maggie, I knew she was as drained as well. Shaemus handed Maggie a notebook.

  “I recommend you to start journaling. It’s great in helping to identify feelings and motivations you perhaps didn’t know you had.” I tried not to roll my eyes. Therapists and their fucking journals.

  Shaemus followed us out of his office. “You both did well today. That was a lot to share. I’d really like for you both to meet with me again. Clay comes twice a week. Maggie, perhaps you could come every other week. What are your thoughts?” Shaemus suggested.

  Maggie was holding my hand again and she peered up at me and my heart stopped. There was real happiness in her eyes.

  “I think I’d like that,” she said. Shaemus smiled at the both of us.

  “Wonderful. Well then you two, have a good evening. Clay, I will see you next Tuesday and Maggie I’ll see you in two weeks. It was wonderful to meet such an amazing young woman.” He shook her hand again and Maggie flushed at the compliment.

  Walking outside, it felt like we had spent days inside the office. We had entered one way and left as something completely different.

  Once we were both buckled in our seats and I was pulling out into traffic, Maggie popped a CD into the player. “Wow. That was intense. Is that how it always is?” she asked.

  I laughed, relieved that she didn’t hate me for dragging her there.

  “No, it’s not always like that. Sometimes it’s actually pretty chill. But usually the first few times can be rough,” I told her.

  Maggie tapped her fingers on the dashboard in time to the music. She stopped abruptly and pressed her hands down on the plastic.

  “I’m glad I went. I feel like this could be good for us,” she said seriously.

  I reached over and placed my hand on her thigh, just needing to touch her. I always needed to touch her.

  “Me too, Mags,” I agreed softly and then fell silent. Neither of us spoke again, letting our newfound contentment do all the talking for us.

  Chapter Twenty

  -Maggie-

  Things were pretty freaking fantastic. Better than I could have ever dared to hope for. After that horrible day in the cafeteria and then accompanying Clay to therapy, I felt like we had entered a new chapter. I was done with waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now that I was hearing, straight from Clay’s mouth, how he struggled, about how hard things still were for him, I didn’t obsess so much about being blindsided. I felt like for once all of our cards were on the table.

  I still worried about him. Hearing him tell Shaemus about how he still thought of cutting himself. That I unwittingly triggered these responses because of his deep seeded feelings of shame and guilt were damn near impossible to listen to.

  I would stare at Rachel and Daniel and wish like hell Clay and I could get to that point where we were passed the bullshit and just living our lives, with each other. Like any other normal couple.

  But that wasn’t our lot and I was learning to accept it. Life with Clayton Reed would never be sunshine and roses. It would be lots of shadows with intermittent light. And I was beginning to figure out ways to appreciate the light when I saw it. Because that darkness was still there. It most likely would always be there.

  We were working on it though, together. And that was saying something.

  So we slipped into a much better place than we had ever been before. Everyone could see the change in not only Clay but in me as well. Rachel commented on it after school one day.

  “You seem happy, Mags. So does Clay. It makes me feel good to know you’re feeling good.” Rachel was simplistic like that. I had given her a hug, which again was totally unlike me. But she had taken it in stride.

  Daniel was less convinced but for the time being he kept his mouth shut about it. If I was okay, then he was okay, and that’s what I loved about him.

  My parents were barely concealing their very serious anxiety about the situation. They didn’t interrogate me, which I appreciated. Bu they had become sneakier in getting information. Clay had been insistent in coming to see them. I knew that he felt he needed to make the effort with them. So I had facilitated their reintroduction.

  Clay brought me home after a shift at Java Madness. I knew both of my parents were home, so I impulsively asked Clay to come inside. It was probably best not to prepare him for the sit down with my parents. I knew he would have only worked himself up unnecessarily. Mom and Dad would either accept him or not. Either way this was Clay’s chance to prove that he wanted to make amends and that he was trying to change.

  “You ready for this?” I asked him, noticing he had gone a little pale. Clay didn’t say anything, only nodded his head. Going inside I found my dad reading the newspaper and my mom working on her laptop in the living room.

  They both looked up as we came into the room. They weren’t surprised to see Clay; I had warned them I’d be bringing him by. While I didn’t want to put undue pressure on Clay by preparing him for the visit, my parents needed to be warned ahead of time. It gave them time to sort out how they would respond to seeing the boy who they blamed for their daughter’s epic freak out months before.

  Clay had dropped my hand and stuffed his into his jeans, a sure sign of his discomfort. “Hello Mr. Young. Mrs. Young.” He had tentatively walked farther into the room as though he were approaching the firing squad.

  My dad had looked at him over the top of his glasses and put the paper on the couch beside him before getting to his feet. My mother’s smile, while a little forced, was at least firmly in place as she met Clay half way to greet him.

  “Hello, Clay.” My dad shook his hand and I was relieved at the lack of posturing on his end. Mom shook his hand as well and I was pleased at how civil they were being. Score one for the parental units.

  “How’s Ruby?” my mother asked, squeezing Clay’s forearm in sympathy. Clay rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to me as though reaffirming that I hadn’t left him to face my parents alone.

  “She has her good and bad days. Well actually, her bad days and not so bad days. It’s been tough,” Clay answered truthfully. My dad’s face softened a bit and I knew that Clay’s honesty had gotten to him. My mom made a clucking noise in the back of her throat.

  “If there’s anything either of you need, please don’t hesitate to ask,” my mom told him and I could see that Clay was blown away by her offer.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Young. Ruby and I appreciate all of the food you’ve given us. It’s been nice to eat something that didn’t come out of box from the freezer.” Clay’s mouth quirked up in a painful smile. It was the smile of someone who didn’t know whether they were about to be eaten alive or not.

  “You are very welcome,” Mom said and waved him toward the couch. “Have a seat. I was just getting ready to make some tea. Can I get you anything?” she asked both of us. Clay shook his head.

  “No, thank you,” he responded in such forced politeness that I wished I could tell him to relax. But my dad had already honed in. He had sat down across from Clay, his arms crossed over his chest. My dad had always been the harder sell. Particularly where Clayton Reed was concerned.

  When my mother asked me to help her in the kitchen I had declined initially. I was more than a little worried about leaving Clay alone with my dad for any amount of time. But my mom had insisted and I could tell by the look she was throwing my way that I needed to make myself scarce.

  Clay’s expression had been bordering on panic and I could only grimace in return as I followed my mom into the kitchen. “Do you think it’s smart leaving those two alone?” I had asked my mom, casting nervous looks down the hallway toward the living room. I could hear the nondescript murmur of their voices but nothing else.

  My mom had gone about getting things together for tea. She pulled out a box of peanut butter cookies and put them on a plate. “Your da
d needs to talk to Clay, Maggie. I think it’s best to let them speak privately for a moment.” That had made my stomach flutter nervously.

  My mom had given me a reassuring hug. “He’s not going to threaten him with a shot gun. But there are things he needs to say. Things Clay needs to hear. If you plan on having a relationship with him, then your father and I are going to make certain things very clear.” I had felt the overwhelming urge to throw up and then run into the living room and whisk Clay out of the house. What the hell had I been thinking in bringing him here? I wasn’t so sure Clay was emotionally ready to deal with whatever my dad decided to dish out.

  Five minutes (that actually felt like five hours) later, we took the cups of tea and plate of cookies back into the living room. I felt the tension as soon as we entered the room and my eyes fastened on Clay in apprehension. I had been surprised to see that he looked…well…okay. Both he and my dad looked up when we placed the stuff on the coffee table. I chanced a glance at my dad and he seemed rigid but at least he wasn’t angry.

  I had been dying to know what was said, but I figured I’d have to wait until later. For the time being, conversation had drifted into how Ruby’s shop was doing. Whether it had been hard for Clay readjusting to life in a small town. My parents had asked him questions about Florida without outright demanding information concerning the facility where he had lived for three months.

  Their questions instead consisted of that sneaky, underhanded method of information gathering that they had recently adopted. Because Clay began to offer up tidbits about his time at the Grayson Center that he hadn’t even told me. He shared about how difficult it had been to keep up with school, having only two hours a day to cram it all in. He talked a bit about the people he met there, speaking at length about his roommate Tyler, who had been there for heroine abuse and paranoid schizophrenia.