MY MEMORIES TRICKLED BACKin fragments until the entire puzzle fit together over the following weeks. Each new memory was like experiencing it all over again. None of them affected me as bad as remembering the reason why Maverick disappeared from my life so suddenly. I think it hit me harder learning about it the second time, because I didn’t have the rest of the memories to go with it.
Maverick and his crew were busy with storm cleanup so I kept myself busy tearing down walls a bit at a time. Each day started with excitement that I would discover the item that would set Elijah free but ended in disappointment when it wasn’t found. Still, it kept me busy and my mind off the one thing I hadn’t let myself think too much about.
The accident.
My car was totaled and I had received the total loss settlement from the other driver’s insurance company a few weeks prior, yet I didn’t replace my car. At that point, it had been a little over a month since the accident and I wasn’t ready to drive yet. I had been cleared by Dr. Pastori to resume all activities, which include driving and work.
I shook every time I thought about getting behind the wheel of a car again. Riding in the passenger seat made me physically ill, so I couldn’t imagine how bad I would react to driving. I would be a hazard on the road until I got my shit together, but I was terrified and then ashamed of how I felt. Yes, I had nearly died – well technically I had – but I survived. I couldn’t let fear make me a prisoner in my home, because the home I loved would start to feel like a prison and instead of hating it, I would resent it.
I knew Maverick was aware of my feelings, even though I had never spoken them out loud. He was in tune to my every need and much more perceptive than people might think. He understood immediately that I was afraid to take Madge with us on the few occasions I would get in his truck. He also knew that Madge was hurt by being left at home when we left, because she went almost everywhere with us. Hell, he even let her ride in the backseat of Lola a few times.
I just couldn’t. She wouldn’t have survived that crash and I would’ve hated myself. Madge loved me and trusted me to care for her and losing her that way would’ve crushed me. Anytime the thought occurred to me, I reached for her and petted her silky ears to comfort myself that she was still there. Maverick, my fix-it guy, came up with a solution to that problem at least. He bought Madge a doggie car restraint. It was a sturdy harness that connected to the seatbelt and would help keep Madge safe. Madge got to go with us and I was assured that she was as protected as she could be in a vehicle.
It was time to return to all aspects of my life and I could only do that by getting over my fear of driving again. I needed to talk to someone objective so I called Jennifer and asked her if she could make time for me. I knew she would be sympathetic, but also shoot me straight and not give me a bunch of platitudes. I needed some tough love and for whatever reason, I knew Jennifer would be the one to get it done.
She came to my house and we chatted on the porch swing while drinking coffee. It felt like two friends talking rather than doctor-patient or co-workers. I felt a level of comfort with her that I didn’t feel with Justin. I assumed it was because Justin and I had a personal relationship that we later tried to turn into a working one. Justin had checked on me several times during my recovery, but Jennifer was the one I turned to when I needed a bit of counseling for myself. I was grateful that I had. It wasn’t an overnight miracle, but I was ready to give it a try after a few conversations with her and encouragement from Maverick after I finally acknowledged my fears to him.
“Take your time, Noah.” He placed his large, warm hand on the back of my neck and lightly massaged me as I sat in the driver seat of his truck. “You’ve got this, babe.”
“I know.” I nodded my head in agreement and dropped the gear into drive. “Let’s get some ice cream.”
That was how I got started driving again. A few miles at a time; a couple days a week. The trips got longer and more frequent until I was able to get behind the wheel and not feel tense or afraid. My first day driving to work felt like a real victory to me. The staff threw a small party for me and the patients seemed just as glad to have me back.
The first few weeks back to working full time took their toll on me and I was too tired to do much when I got home, except eat and make love to Maverick. I’d have to be dead not to reach for him, but probably even after death I’d still yearn for him. Those thoughts made me think of the dream – as I referred to it – about Octavius that I had in the hospital before I regained consciousness. I felt like I had let both he and Elijah down when I backed off the search. Really, I couldn’t work an hour for them each night?
“You’re going to make yourself sick by doing too much too soon,” Maverick said when he came into our room one evening. He had been working late nights to meet a project deadline and the stress had been getting to him. I knew that worrying about me only added to his work stress, but I had to do something with my time or go nuts. “We’re volunteering for the first time at the LGBT center this weekend so you need to take the evenings off to rest.” I knew he was right, because I still tired easily and would experience the occasional headache that told me I needed to slow it down.
“I know, Mav, but…” My words were cut off when he took the hammer from my hand and kissed me with toe-curling passion.
“I have something you can hammer, Noah. I need you.” Once again, finding Elijah’s treasure was put on the back burner.
“Are you nervous?” Maverick asked me the following weekend.
“A little,” I replied honestly. “Not everyone is open to counseling, no matter how badly they need it. People tell themselves to ‘toughen up’ or ‘suck it up’ and get over whatever is bothering them. Those are phrases I hate, Mav. When someone experiences a traumatic event that’s the worst thing people could say to them.”
“You’re going to be amazing, Doc. It might take them awhile to get used to you and open up, but I’m confident that they will.” I hoped he was right, but I wasn’t convinced.
Mark, the center director, greeted us warmly. “Hey guys. It’s good to see you.” He shook both of our hands. Mark and his husband, Dylan, opened the center in attempt to give abandoned teens and young adults a place to turn to for resources. I loved the vibe of the place when we first stepped inside their building. People like Mark and Dylan made a huge difference in peoples’ lives and it was an honor to help them any way that I could. I was just nervous about being accepted.
Mark introduced me to everyone and let them know that I was a counselor who specialized in working with people who have survived traumatic events. “Rejection, assault, homelessness, accidents, and many other things can have a lingering negative impact on your life, how you see yourself, and your view of the world,” he said eloquently. “It’s not a requirement that you talk to Noah, but he’s volunteered his time and if anyone wants to speak to him he’ll be here.”
I was stunned when Maverick walked over to the group after he set up the easels and supplies he donated to the center. “Hi everyone, I’m Maverick. I’ll be teaching painting techniques to anyone who wants to learn them. I also want to say that there’s nothing shameful about asking for help when you need it. We all need help.”
“Even you?” A brunette kid asked. He looked to be in his early twenties. He wore anger and resentment like a cloak around his stiff shoulders. “What ‘traumatic’ event have you ever experienced? You ever been beat up and bullied?”
I was curious how Maverick was going to handle the question, because he wasn’t one to express himself very often. “I was beaten and bullied by my own father my entire life and I was sent to a gay conversion camp at sixteen. So, yeah, I have plenty of experiences to draw from. Noah can and will help you if you let him.”
Our first day was pretty successful. Maverick had quite a few kids interested in painting and the surly kid sought me out after I’d been there about an hour. He introduced himself as Jared and his story was sadly common. He’d come out and was cast out by his family with just the clothes on his back and without a penny to his name. No matter how many times I heard those stories, they broke my heart. So many kids turned to prostitution to survive and drugs to cope. It was much braver than people knew to open yourself up and talk about such things.
Jared didn’t talk about anything real specific that first day, which was fine. He was getting to know me, testing to see if he could trust me. I would be as patient as he needed, because it was obvious to me that he wanted to feel better and lose the anger and resentment.
“Are you coming back?” He asked in a small voice as he looked at his feet.
“This time every other Saturday,” I replied. Only then did he look at me. His eyes searched mine looking for the truth. He must have approved of what he saw there because he nodded his head. It was a huge victory, but I gave no outward display of how happy it made me. I didn’t want to spook him. “See you next time, Jared.”
“Yeah, okay.” A small smile slipped then, but I couldn’t help it. Lucky for me he had looked away and didn’t see it.
Maverick and I were both pretty quiet for most of the drive home as we both thought of our time at the center. Halfway home, Mav reached across the console and took my hand. I laced my fingers through his and looked over at him. He glanced over at me and gave me his beautiful smile.
