"Rory if you don't feelready to discuss Cameron Foster then that is okay," he assures me."I think what your mother is trying to understand is why you feltable to discuss him with Sam Caplan, but not her, ormyself."
I open my mouth torespond.But I don'thavea response.I don't know how to explain myconnection with Sam, or how in that moment I just felt as if Icould tell him anything.I don't know how to explain howconversely, I can't talk about Cam to my mom.She knew him.Sheloved him.How can I look her in the eye and witness her own griefwhen I know I am the cause of it?
"Cam's dead."My voice islow and toneless, like it's coming from someone else."There'snothing to talk about.He's not coming back."I feel physicallysick to my stomach.It's a hard truth for me to voice, one I'mreluctant to accept, but one I know to be true.
"Rory, why don't you havea seat," Dr.Schall suggests, but I can't.I'm jumping out of myown skin.I feel cornered.Like they planned this.Like they got mein this room and tried to trick me into talking aboutCam.
"Honey, I know how hardyou're trying.I do.And I'm so proud of you.I just think if youtalked about him—"
"I don't want to fuckingtalk about him!"I wail.Why won't shejust get the fucking point?!"I nevershould have talked about him to Sam!I never should have gottenclose to Sam at all!All I do is fuck everything up!"
I'm practically blinded bymy own tears as I dart out of the office, only vaguely aware ofthem both calling after me.I ignore the receptionist's startledlook, and flee through the vestibule.Only when I'm outside can Itake a deep breath.I feel for my purse strap, and realize that inmy haste to get out of there, I left it behind.Fucking great.
Now I don't have my carkeys or my pills.In fact, I realize that it's probably the onlyreason my mother didn't come after me, since it's more than clear Ishouldn't be driving right now.
Instead, I lean backagainst the brick facade of the medical office building and squeezemy eyes shut in an attempt to squelch my tears.I count backwardsfrom ten, again and again, and breathe.I breathe in and out, in,and out.
It's long minutes beforemy breaths even out and my tears start to slow.I swipe at mycheeks with the sleeve of my leather jacket.It's then that Iremember I left a lone cigarette in the pocket, bummed from Daveseveral days earlier.
I don't want to smoke.Iknow how unhealthy it is, and the last thing I want is to develop anicotine addiction.
Well, no.That's notactually true.Thelastthing I want is to feel like this for anotherfucking moment.So I pull out the matchbook that I keep in thatsame pocket and light the cigarette.I inhale deeply, embracing thecalming effects, all the while silently lamenting over how much Ihate my life.And then I hate myself even more for myself-loathing.Because this isn't who I want to be.
"Rory?"
I'm startled by a girl'svoice.I hastily drop my cigarette and stub it out with the sole ofmy boot and wipe my eyes again.I recognize herimmediately.
"Hi Bits."I greet Sam'skid sister with a shaky voice.I've only met her a couple oftimes—once here at Dr.Schall's, of whom she's also a patient, andonce at dinner at the Caplans' house.
I watch her expressiongrow concerned as she approaches, and I add mortification to mylist of overwhelming emotions.I try hard to hide my distress, butI doubt I'm all that effective.
"Everything okay?"sheasks.
It's a ridiculousquestion.It's obvious that everything's not okay.Nothing'sokay.I don'teven know whatokayis anymore.But something in Bits's eyes expresses thesincerity of her concern, exuding an empathy reminiscent of herbrother's.An exceptionally rare degree of understanding and ananswering compassion.
Of course, Bits knows whatit's like to feel like utter shit.When she'd intentionallyoverdosed on pills last summer, after what had once been describedto me as abad breakup, it had really shaken her older brother.And it was Sam whoconfided in me about it.But pain knows pain, and I recognizedsomething kindred in Bits almost immediately.
"No," I whisper.It's thefirst time I've admitted it out loud, and there's something vaguelyfreeing about it.Bits just nods and, to my surprise, wraps me in ahug.
I lean into her, acceptingher offer of friendship.We pull away at the same time, and thoughI hate that Bits went through what she went through, it helps toknow someone has gone through hell and come out the other end okay.She certainly seems okay, anyway.
"I know it doesn't feellike it right now, but you're going to get through this.And oneday, maybe not as soon as you'd like, but one day down the road,you're going to look back at all this and see it differently," shesays with a wisdom that is far beyond her sixteen years.
I don't know if it's true,of course.It doesn't seem likely.That there will be a time whenI'll come to terms with being without Sam, when I'll accept the wayI lost Cam.If I'll be able to move on from Robin.If he'll evenlet me go.Sam will move on eventually.If he hasn't already.He'llmeet a girl, and if I want to stay in his life I'll have to be okaywith it.How could any of that ever feelokay?It all feels so hopeless.Ifeel the ache in my chest and the emptiness in my gut as sharp asever.
But it lifts my pitifulmood to hear that at least for Bits, her depression is in the past.To see her looking genuinely happy.
"Sure hope so," Imutter.
Bits smiles faintly inreassurance.And then I nearly panic again.
"Shit, Bits, please don'ttell Sam about this.I don't want him to think-"
"Don't be ridiculous."Shesays a line her brother has dropped so many times."SammyonlythinksItell him everything," and she smiles wryly.
From absolutely nowhere, asmall laugh makes its way up my throat, and in its wake a small,barely-there smile.
The door opens behind meand my mother emerges from the vestibule, holding mypurse.
