Knowing that my parents don’t trust me makes me feel like yet another failure. How can you earn the trust of two people who are terrified that you’ll commit suicide as soon as you’re alone?
Well, I have no idea. All I know is that I have to keep going to therapy and take my medication.
Daniel follows me. "It's not that, honey-bee."
"Then what?" I retort.
"We're just worried about you."
I know, and I'm sorry to make them worry so much. I just want to be in control of my emotions and apologize, but I can only shrug carelessly. "I'm twenty-one."
He nods. "I know, but you’re still our son, and a lot has happened to you in the last few months. You’ve faced so many changes and strong emotions, honey-bee. It's normal to worry and it's normal that you are more fragile than before. We just want you to be safe."
"I'm tired of going to therapy. I'm tired of everything."
He wraps an arm around my shoulders as we walk the halls. "You don't have to go forever," he comforts me.
I roll my eyes, not believing his words. "I've been going my whole life," I retort, fed up.
"You need it."
I know, "That doesn't mean I'm happy to go. I can't take it anymore."
My father runs a hand through his reddish hair, moving a few steps away as soon as we stop in front of the classroom door. "Vincent... Therapy’s there to help you. It's not an easy process, I know, but I know you can do it. Maybe if Nov-"
I interrupt him before he can finish. "I'm not going to put her through my mess again. She has enough problems already."
She has already taken care of me enough and I’m no longer her problem.I no longer want to be a problem in her life.
I want to be the one who takes care of her and make her feel at least a quarter as special as she made me feel special from the moment she told me that I was the only one who knew the secret of the hole in her teeth.
I want to be the special friend she can trust, the shoulder to lean on. I no longer want to be the guy who made her cry.
I didn't leave Seattle's top music program to go back to being the terrified kid I was when I came here from Russia.
Nova Marshall's friendship was what kept me alive every time I thought about letting go completely, and I can't burden her again.
Not anymore. I have to face what happened with her. I know it's not the right motivation, but that's enough for now.
I show my father a tugged smile before opening the classroom door. "I want to go to Steven's bakery on the subway today."
"Vincent..."
"Please? I have an appointment with a possible roommate."
He sighs, uncertain. "I don't know, honey-bee."
"Trust me. I can do this on my own," I try to convince him. I can hear the gears moving in his head as he thinks of a thousand reasons why he should say no to me but finally, when he gives in, I smile softly.
I show him a thumbs-up like I used to do as a child and close the classroom door behind me. As soon as I cross the classroom threshold I’m surrounded by a group of five-year-olds. They have radiant smiles on their lips and wear colorful pinafores.
Their teacher, Mrs. Grayson, smiles at me from afar, and I nod to her in greeting. I place my backpack and guitar on the floor because I know what’s coming. They each hand me a drawing before jumping on me and saying, "Vincent!"
I giggle to myself. Maybe taking this job wasn't such a bad idea. "Which one of you wants to hear a new song?"
I lead the group to the center of the classroom and seat them in a circle on the sun-shaped carpet.
I take my place between Paul and Cindy, slinging my acoustic guitar. The children are all attentive to my actions, staring dreamily at me.
