“No comment.” I let her fuss with my hair for a few more seconds before I reach for her hand, and, smiling to soften the blow, I say, “I think the hair is good,” and step back, dropping her hand.
“Looks good through the lens,” Auz calls out from across the room, in bro solidarity I’m sure. “Let’s roll before the light fades.” For sure bro code. I’m grateful.
Callie rolls her eyes and steps back, too.
I lean against the heavy bag and fold my arms over my chest, crossing one ankle over the other.
Auz starts snapping, telling me to tilt my head this way or shift my eyes that way. After about ten clicks, he says, “I think we’re good. Wanna go grab a beer, some food?”
“Nah, I’ve got work, but you guys go ahead. Pete’s expecting you. What time do you guys head out tomorrow?”
“Early. Probably won’t see you.” Auz extends his hand to shake mine.
“Okay, well, thanks for making the trip to me. I’ve had too much going on to get down south.” I smile and grip his hand.
“M-hm,” Callie mumbles. “Well, you can’t avoid it forever. The ASH anniversary is coming up and you’ll have to come to the party.”
“Fuck, Callie. Give it a rest,” Auz scolds as he packs his camera and equipment.
“Just saying.” She shrugs and punches me lightly on the bicep.
“I’m aware.” I force myself to look her in the eye, my features schooled into cool composure. The mention of the party sends a cold searing pain to my chest, but I ignore it. This isn’t today’s problem. “Thanks, again. Safe travels.” I turn to gather my towel, bag and water bottle. “If that’s everything, I’m going to hit the shower. See you guys soon.” I turn on my heel and don’t look back. Taking the stairs two at a time, I begin stripping off my clothes once I hit the second-story landing and don’t stop until I step into the shower and crank the water. The icy spray jolts me at first, but I welcome the tiny electric shocks. I let the water pelt me until it turns hot, then I duck my head and let the heat pummel my shoulders and neck. I try to clear my mind and find my happy place. I’ve been working with Dr. Carver on a new one lately—one that doesn’t involve cloud-gray eyes and chestnut brown hair.
Speaking of Claire Carver, it’s almost time for our video appointment. I rush through lathering up and sit down at my desk just in time to log in to our Zoom call. When her face fills the screen, she smiles,her eyes crinkling at the corners behind her glasses. Her background is different, filled with pines and blue water. “Julian. You look . . . refreshed.” She laughs softly, taking in my wet hair.
I smile back politely and change the subject. “Where are you?”
“Oh, we’re doing the family thing in Tahoe this weekend.”
“Should we reschedule? We can reschedule.” She’s already shaking her head before I finish.
“Nope, we’re good. I would’ve said if I needed to cancel. But Julian, you deserve to have people show up for you, on time, like they say they will. You’re worth someone making time for you.”
I nod my head, but she tracks me well. She knows I’m going through the motions, nodding in agreement because that’s what I’m supposed to believe. The truth is—
Her voice cuts off my train of thought. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“Uh, I guess that not having people show up for me feels better—not better, normal. More normal than when they do.”
Her turn to nod. “Recognizing the pattern is the first step to breaking it. Proud of you.”
“I know. I mean, thank you.”
She smiles. Her smile soothes me. Her porcelain skin and dark eyes, framed by an equally dark bob of silky hair and her pixie features, invite you in and make you want to share your secrets. She curls her finger around her ear, trapping a lock of hair behind it. The simple diamond stud on her earlobe catches the sunlight and winks at me. “Do you want to talk about why you feel more comfortable with people bailing on you?”
“Do I ever wannatalkabout it?” I use quote marks when I say the wordtalk.
“Yet, you’re here. So you must want answers.”
I shrug my shoulders with a heavy sigh. “I mean I guess it’s my parents never being there for me. It feels familiar to not have anyone to depend on?”
Her smile and slight nod tell me to brace for the analysis that’s incoming. “That’s the easy answer, yes. Do you ever ask yourself why it feels . . . You said familiar? I’m going to say comfortable. But also, why was that a question? Are you unsure if it still feels familiar or comfortable?”
“I don’t know, Doc.” I throw my hands out to my sides, palms up. “Can’t you just tell me what I feel and we can go from there?”
Her short peal of laughter raises one corner of my mouth.
“Julian.” The soft rebuke is evident in her tone.
