“What are we watching tonight?” I ask, planting myself in the spot I’ve claimed on the couch.
I’ve seen all theStar Warsshows before, including most of the animated ones, but watching them with Jay is an original experience.
Jay scrolls through the selections of shows we haven’t watched yet. “Obi-Wan‘s next on the list. I’ve watched it three times, and every time I discover a hidden gem I didn’t see before.”
“Cool,” I say, grinning. “Out of all the shows, this one’s my favorite.”
We binge, pausing between each episode to chat about our favorite parts and things we didn’t catch in our previous watches. As we get closer to the last episode, Jay’s becoming rigid and uneasy. I know what’s going to happen, and I realize the confrontation between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader—the intense face-off and the painful betrayal—might impact him in a way he’s not ready for.
Before the big finish, I make a suggestion. “Hey, it’s pretty late. We could just watch this tomorrow.”
Jay whips his head around to look at me in surprise. “What? No, we can’t stop watching now. It’s not like either of us has somewhere to be tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? The last episode is pretty intense.”
He shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m fine.”
“Alright,” I say, backing off and letting him decide what’s best for him.
I keep sneaking looks at him to see how he’s taking the powerful scene unfolding on the screen. It’s pretty clear how Jay’s feeling, and I’m worried about the repercussions of him watching it.
“You okay?”
He just nods without looking at me, still watching.
Once the show’s over, Jay flips off the TV. Usually, we’d spend an hour hashing out the complexities of the characters and the foreshadowing for the movies that follow, but Jay’s just sitting there, stiff and wringing his hands.
“I’m gonna go to bed,” he finally says, getting up and not looking at me.
“Sounds good. Mind if I crash on the couch tonight?”
I want to be here in case he needs something.
“Yeah, of course.”
I don’t sleep well, getting up several times to listen at Jay’s door. I hear nothing wrong, but I keep checking anyway. Around seven, I hear Ronda head out for work, but I just pull the blanket over my head and drift back to sleep after a rough night.
We both wake up late, groggy and in desperate need of caffeine. Jay looks rough, with black circles under his eyes.
“Sleep okay?” I ask while we’re pouring our coffee.
He shrugs. “Not really. Had a bad dream, then didn’t sleep much after that.”
“Sorry. That wasn’t the best thing to watch right before going to bed.”
Sitting at the kitchen table, he lets out a deep sigh. “It’s my own fault. I wanted to power through. I didn’t think it would bother me, but it did.”
“Give yourself a break,” I say encouragingly. “You’ve been through a lot, and you never know what’s going to be a trigger.”
“If only I could wave a magic wand and fix myself,” he says, sounding defeated.
Grasping his hand, I give it a good squeeze. “It’ll take time, but you’ll get there.”
On a beautiful spring morning, we pack the sandwiches and the small snack boxes Ronda made for us into a backpack, then head to the Gorge.
The April rain has finally eased, leaving the air clear and crisp; the sun peeks through ragged clouds, and everything smells like wet pine and stone.
Ronda’s got Jay using warm compresses, special creams, and a blend of vitamins, and his bruises are improving. He’s moving with less stiffness; the soreness in his ribs and back is easing, so he only reaches for over-the-counter painkillers when he really needs them.
