“I’m glad you called me,” he said.
Okay. That was… surprising. Why did I always just assume I was a nuisance to him? “Are you?”
“I saw you spiraling, and I wanted to reach out, but I know how I react to ‘help,’ and you and I are, sadly, very much alike. So I figured you’d come to me when you were ready.”
“What made you think I’d come to you? We’re not exactly close.”
“We’re closer than you think.”
I didn’t understand what he meant by that, and Jake didn’t explain.
“I mean, who better to talk you through this than trauma central himself, right?” Jake hiked a foot onto the table and leaned back. “Hit me, little brother.”
“I’m just going to jump right in,” I replied. “How do I move past this, Jake? How do I get back on stage? How can I give Jess what she needs emotionally when I’m a mess? Most importantly, how can I get to where you are without it taking seventeen years?”
“I’m not sure where you think I am. I hate to break this to you, Quinn, but I’m nowhere near healed. It took me seventeen years just to get here—at the fifty percent mark. If you think there’s an easy fix, you’re going to be very disappointed. The only way I’ve found to punch holes in the trauma is by talking about it, dispensing small bits at a time.”
“Who do you talk to—Casey?”
“God, no.”
“Why do you say it like that?” I asked, wondering how much of what I was going through I could share with Jess.
“The things I have to say… I don’t feel...” Jake stopped himself and looked away. “Look, for me, the damage just runs too deep. If it takes me another seventeen years, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk about the worst of it. But I’ve learned to function… even thrive… on that fifty percent. And you will too.”
“Well, that isn’t very comforting.”
Jake shrugged. “Sometimes there are no easy answers.”
“But that’s what I want.”
He chuckled. “That’s what you’ve always wanted, Quinn. An easy fix. There isn’t one. You have to know that by now.”
It was one of those Jake aphorisms that, in the past, I’d internalize as derogatory and allow to simmer. But I was hearing him with fresh ears tonight. And he was right. I always took the path of least resistance, only forging new ones when I was backed into a corner. Well, I was backed into a huge fucking corner now, and if I didn’t do the work required, I was never getting out of it.
“I do know. I just don’t like to hear it coming from you.”
He smiled. I smiled back. An unspoken understanding passed between us. We really were so similar.
“I feel weak.” I sighed. “Like I should just get over this and move on. I feel like I’m letting Jess down. Letting Noah down. How can they count on me when I can’t even count on myself? And seriously, Jake, how am I supposed to support my little family if I can’t get back on stage?”
“Why can’t you get back on stage?”
“Uh, perhaps you haven’t been watching the news.”
“I know what’s going on. You’ve got to stop being afraid of the stage. What’s the worst thing that can happen up there?”
I gaped at him. “Um… getting fucking shot!”
“Exactly. And now you can cross that off the list. Next?”
“How about dying on stage? That sucks too.”
“Not sure I agree with you on that. The dead don’t suffer like us lifers do. Do you have any idea how much easier it would’ve been for me to have just died in that basement seventeen years ago? All the suffering I’ve done since. The suicide attempts. The nightmares. The ghosts that took up residence inside my head. It’s mind-numbing. Do you think I did all that shit for me? No! I did it for Mom and Dad. I did it for Kyle. I did it for Casey. And then…” His voice broke. “And then I did it for my kids.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Have you ever done it just for you?”
There was a long sigh.
