“I miss you,” I murmur.
“I missed you too.”
I cease in my spot, but my heart takes off at the familiar voice.
“Hi, Jos.”
58
DANIEL
April 28th
“I’m ready to go back.”
“You’re ready to tell me what you’ve been afraid to say?”
I nod, more sure of myself than I felt at the beginning of the month.
I’ve been talking to Jarvis, the university’s therapist, twice a week for almost a month now. She’s a sweet, fifty-something-year-old that makes you want to share all your deepest and darkest secrets, but also doesn’t fuck around. She’s patient and nice but immediately clocks my bullshit, which she calls masking.
Since we started our sessions, she’s asked me what I’m afraid of. At first, I said “nothing” but then I stayed quiet, scared to actually say it out loud. She never made me feel pressured to say it, but she said I couldn’t play until I gave her an answer. That was her and Coach D’Angelo’s ultimatum.
“I’m afraid of what will happen if I move on. Afraid to let myself be happy.”
I want to but then I feel guilty.
Jarvis has time and time again talked me through my guilt, reminding me it’s not my fault. She has helped me find coping mechanisms for the panic attacks, my depression, and my anxiety. But even though she helped me find ways to control what I’m going through, it was only doing so much to help me. So she also prescribed medication because I’m struggling with post-traumatic stress disorder from witnessing Adrian drown. I have a lot of issues that have been festering for years, and meditating and breathing alone weren’t going to help regulate them.
I didn’t want to at first, not because I thought there was anything wrong with it, but taking the medication was accepting what I’ve been trying to ignore. I knew I couldn’t do that anymore and I really want to get better.
It’s only been a month, and things haven’t magically changed. The weight of what I feel is still there, but it isn’t heavily weighing down on me like it did before.
We’ve also talked about my relationship with my dad and how we can work to establish a healthy connection.
Which has helped because I’ve been staying with my parents for a week and a few days, and while Dad and I aren’t best friends, things aren’t uncomfortable.
Jarvis tenderly smiles at me from the screen. “That’s understandable but I want you to remember something, Danny. You can move on, but that doesn’t mean you’ll forget Adrian or that you’re not deserving of what you’ve accomplished and achieved. You deserve to be happy, so let yourself be happy. Step outside the box, you’re allowed to do that. It’s okay to let go of it.”
I hadn’t realized I put myself in a box until I spoke with Jarvis. I was unconsciously caging myself in, allowing that box to get smaller and smaller. That’s until Josie happened. I unintentionally let her in, sharing and doing things with her thatmade me feel alive. And in doing so, I subconsciously outgrew the box and needed to get out, because I not only liked the space, but I needed and wanted to make it for Josie. But anytime I tried to get out of the box, the overwhelming guilt forced me back in.
And that led to everything crashing and me blacking out when I punched Bryson both times.
My lips lift slightly.
“Oh, you’re smiling? You want to share?”
That only makes them stretch wider. “You remember Josie?”
“The girl you’re constantly talking about? Yes, I remember her.”
Jarvis also happens to be a smart-ass.
“She said that to me too.” I press my lips together to stop them from trembling. “She made me happy. I don’t feel like I deserve her, but she’s someone good. Actually, she’s better than good. She’s amazing. She’s dry and a little mean but…” I chuckle but Jarvis cracks a smile that makes it sound louder. “I love it. I…” I quiet down. “I couldn’t remember what feeling alive was like until she came into my life.”
“It’s never too late.”
“I don’t know if I can fix what I broke. I hurt her, Jarvis. I don’t know how she’ll want me back.”
