On Solid Ground: Sequel to in Too Deep (6 page)

Whatever. This
may
not last. I shifted in my seat, and she looked down her nose at me over her half-glasses with their striking purple frames. I just needed to get it over with so I could tell Jake I’d given it a shot, but it just wasn’t going to work out.

“I’m not sure what you want to know. Like health history and stuff?”

“Tell me a little about you and why you’re here.”

“Well, I’m Gracie, but you knew that. I’m twenty-one and just finished my junior year. I’m a Social Work major. I transferred here from the UT Martin campus Spring Semester of my sophomore year. I just had a terrible break up last semester and then immediately fell in love with my best friend, Jake, who just happens to be my ex’s former roommate.” There that should keep us busy for a while, and I didn’t even have to say Noah’s name.

“I see. And how is the new relationship going?”

“Jake is amazing. He’s the reason I had the strength to leave my ex in the first place.”

“So, without Jake, you wouldn’t have left your ex?”

“I like to think I would have, but I’m really not a very strong person.”

“So, you get your strength from Jake.” Her one eyebrow raised just enough that I knew this was the part where I was supposed to have an ‘aha’ moment.

“Yeah, I do. He sees things in me I don’t. He knew I could do it.”

“Gracie, what worries me about that notion is that you are relying on someone else for your own strength. We need to get you to a point where you realize your strength comes from within.” She jotted something down. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Sure, and I hope to one day be there, too, but, without Jake, I don’t know up from down. I can’t imagine starting this process without him.” I motioned with my hand, signaling that the process I was referring to was all the shit that might happen in her office...if I came back.

“I see. So, tell me a little about your ex. What is his name?”

Dammit.
Her hand hovered over the yellow legal pad she had in her lap, poised to diagram the mess I brought that day. It never occurred to me she would be taking notes. Notes on how fucked up I was.
Shit.
Five minutes in and my chest was tight, and I was sweating.

“Um...” I cleared my throat. “Noah. His name was Noah.”

“Was? His name
is still
Noah, correct?”

I nodded. What the hell? She was going to go all smartass on me? I didn’t have to deal with this.
Don’t sit there in your Vera Wang outfit and make me look stupid, lady.
Suddenly, I was aware of what I was wearing. My over-sized, sleeveless, red flannel shirt was draped over a black graphic t-shirt with bright yellow lettering that spelled out I’M WITH THE BAND. I had on black leggings and my favorite girly combat boots. Dr. Sylvia Watts was perfectly put together and probably never suffered a day in her life, and the attitude she sported had me on the defense. I wiggled my fingers to keep from forming fists.

“I know that seemed like a smart ass question.”
Ya think?
Okay, she swore, so she’s not being
perfectly
professional. That’s one point in her favor. “But, so many times, when we have bad break ups, we try to push that person out of our minds as though they have been exterminated, removed from the planet. If we refer to Noah in the present tense, it will be easier to come to terms with the fact that he will continue to exist, and he will move on. It won’t be as much of a shock to your system if you unexpectedly run into him or hear someone mention his name. Your relationship may be over, but Noah isn’t. Does that make sense?”

I nodded and unshed tears burned my eyes. I blinked as fast as I could and looked down at my hands, wringing themselves lifeless. It never occurred to me she might make me cry the first day.

“Gracie. Tell me why you are crying.” She tapped the end of her pen on her hand that held the legal pad.

“I’m not crying.”

“Gracie. We don’t play games in this office. You are here to get better, to talk through the things that brought you here, and to heal. Those things don’t happen without flushing your system of all the pain. Think of it as a plugged-up toilet. The water can’t run smoothly until the shit is out of the way. Right?”

I laughed and nodded, and she handed me the tissue box. That’s two points for Dr. Sylvia Watts. Maybe she would grow on me.

“Tell me what’s making you cry,” she pressed.

I didn’t like being pressed. “My emotions are all over the place. I feel comfortable with Jake, but little things like compliments bowl me over. It’s like he hands me something I don’t know what to do with.”

“Did Noah compliment you?”

I had to think about that for a while. Tears streamed down my face when I formed my answer. “I don’t remember any that weren’t followed by some kind of jab.”

“Tell me more about that.”

“Well, once he told me how stunned he was when he walked into work—that’s where we met—and saw me. He said, ‘I couldn’t believe how hot you were, but then I saw there was barely anything under your shirt. Made me wonder if you were really a guy.’ I guess I eventually started holding back my reactions to his compliments so I could brace myself for the insult.”

“So, in some way, Jake is handing you something foreign.”

I nodded. How pathetic was that? Something as harmless as a compliment could strip me bare.

“How does Jake compliment you?”

“He tells me I’m beautiful all the time.” I rolled my eyes and she jotted something down.

Shit.

“What do you see in your mind when he tells you that?”

“A pathetic girl who let someone walk all over her and hurt her so deeply, she is irreparably broken. I can barely look him in the eye when he says those things.”

“So, Noah taught you how to view yourself.”

I choked out a sob. “I’m sorry for crying so much.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I should be stronger than that by now.”

“Gracie, crying doesn’t make you weak. It’s the strong people who are brave enough to let it all out. Those who keep from crying aren’t capable of processing what is going on inside their minds and in their hearts, so they don’t let themselves feel the depth of their pain. Those who cry are strong enough to take it all in, feel it, and then let it all out. And the friends that walk away from people in your current situation think they’re walking away because you’re too high-maintenance. But they’re actually walking away as a selfish means of self-preservation. They can’t handle the pain. Your tears prove that you can.”

Sylvia stunned me with her words. All these years, I felt weak because I cried almost every day. Sylvia spun that notion and made me see it a different way. Crying was evidence that I was strong. Me. Strong.

“So, let’s move along. What is it about eye contact when Jake compliments you that makes you uncomfortable?”

I never actually thought about it. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to process her question as best I could. “I guess part of it is that wall I learned to put up for Noah’s insults after his compliments. But I guess I worry, if Jake looks long enough, he’ll see all the ugly I do. I don’t think I’ll ever see myself the way Jake does.”

“Never say never, Gracie.” Sylvia smiled and jotted some more notes on her tablet.

“When was the first time Noah hurt you in any way?” She pulled her purple frames from her nose, folded them up, and placed them quietly on the side table next to her chair. The rest of the hour, she had me give her a timeline of all the shitty things Noah had done. She said she didn’t want details yet, she just wanted a list of all his offenses. Well, just that list took the rest of the hour.

A quiet chime reminded us that our time was up. Dr. Sylvia smiled at me and leaned forward with her elbows on her pad of Gracie Jordan notes. “You are a survivor, Gracie. You have survived an abusive relationship. What Noah did to you was emotional abuse. You probably forget who you used to be, and that’s because you have spent the last two years trying to mold yourself into someone who wouldn’t piss Noah off or make him stray. We are going to find you, Gracie. I promise.” She held her hand out and I instinctively gave her mine. “I survived a
Noah
, too, Gracie. The planets aligned when you called for your appointment. The counselor you were supposed to see went into labor last night and I had a cancellation. We have connected for a reason, and I feel so blessed to be working with you.”

She just sank a three-pointer. I was in awe. In one hour’s time, Dr. Sylvia Watts went from a way-too-organized Vera Wang mannequin to someone I would probably never lose touch with. She was right, there was no happenstance; we were meant to find each other.

“Now, I’m going to give you some paperwork to fill out for me.” She walked over and rifled through her filing cabinet, pulling papers out and setting them aside.

“Could Jake come with me some sometime?”

“I think that’s a great idea, Gracie. I’ll give you two sets of paperwork, and you can have him complete a set and just get both back to me when we see each other next.”

I stood, and she handed me the stack of papers. “Do I come back next week?”

“We will schedule you on an as-needed basis. Here’s my card. Call me when you need to see me. Do you keep a journal, Gracie?”

“I do, always have. I love to write.”

“Good. Writing can be the best therapy. Bring your journal with you when you come next time. We can slowly walk through your relationship with Noah and unpack all the—for lack of a better term—shit. We’ll make more room in your heart for Jake.” She smiled sweetly and rubbed my arm.

“Thank you, Dr. Watts.”

“Please, Gracie, call me Sylvia.”

“Thank you, Sylvia.”

Eight

Jake

While Gracie was at counseling, I decided to continue my job search. Part of me hoped fate would just throw something in my lap that would help me with my future career plans, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath.

I couldn’t wait to hear how Gracie’s first counseling session went, although I had no idea what to expect. Her emotions were all over the map, and she would either say she’s never going back or that she loved it. We were supposed to meet at the Café for lunch, so I had some time before I would get her play-by-play.

It was hot, and there still were no Help Wanted signs anywhere. I walked up and down both sides of College Avenue before ducking into the upstairs restaurant portion of
Mitchell’s
to grab a drink. I saw Becki sitting alone in a booth. The familiar scent of stale beer and industrial cleaning products brought me comfort somehow. Maybe it reminded me of all the laid back nights I’d been there with Jessica or Sam and Gracie.

Becki looked up, smiled, and pointed to the empty bench across the table from her. I grabbed a water from the cooler and took a seat. She frantically made piles out of the papers spread out in front of her to make room for me to put my water down. Upstairs at
Mitchell’s
was a great place to study during the day; it was virtually empty. I assumed the majority of their income came from the weekends when bands played downstairs.

“What’s all this?” I pointed to the mess on the table.

“I changed majors.”

“No more Business classes?”

“Some. I decided I want to be a publicist, so I had to change my major to Communications but still carry a minor in Business. So, I’m taking like four thousand credits this summer. It’s gonna kill me. Mark my words.” She rubbed her temples.

“What are
you
doing here?” She grabbed my water bottle and helped herself to a sip.

“I was out job hunting and needed a drink. No one is hiring, and I’m not sure how I am going to afford daily trips to the Café with Gracie if I don’t have some sort of income.”

“You know, I was just mentioning something to Gracie that could bring the two of you some hefty cash, and she said I could be her first customer.” She winked and looked me up and down.

“I don’t even want to know.” I shook my head but was thankful for Becki and her goofball personality. She was good for Gracie. I was sure, whatever her inappropriate plan was, it would have made Gracie giggle. That was good.

“Jake, how is she, really?”

Becki’s concerned look comforted me for the mere fact that it helped me to know I wasn’t overreacting to some of the cues I was getting from Gracie.

“I don’t know, Becki. She seems fine sometimes, bright and bubbly. And then other times, she spirals downward and crumbles into a very self-conscious little girl. I get a glimmer of hope when she’s happy and doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, but when her mood shifts, it makes me wonder if she was faking her good mood for my benefit, ya know?”

“Jake, she loves you so much. You are everything she needs. She told me she feels like two different people, when she just wants to be one...a strong one.”

“She doesn’t deserve this.” I pounded lightly with my fist on the table.

“You’re right, Jake. She doesn’t. No one does. But this is her life right now, and we have to help her lose the guilt from all the things Noah did to her. She also needs to learn how to stand on her own two feet. You are the biggest support system she has, but...” Her eyes dropped to the table, and that’s when it hit me.

“But, I might be her biggest crutch, too.” I felt like every last molecule of air was sucked from my body. “All I want to do is help her heal and protect her.”

“Jake, you two are soul mates. I have no doubt. But as her best friends, part of our responsibility is to step back and let her stand up for herself.”

I folded my arms on the table and laid my head on them. I took a couple deep breaths and lifted my head. “She had her first counseling session today. I can’t wait to hear how that went.”

“Yeah, me too. Counseling was great for me when my parents got their divorce.”

“Don’t they have a support group for people like us, Becki? They have support groups for families and friends of addicts. We need to start a support group of our own. But we need a cool acronym.” I smiled to try to lighten the mood.

“Great idea, Jake.” She looked up toward the ceiling and tapped her chin. Her mouth moved like she was sounding out words, but I couldn’t read her lips to know where she was going with my idea. “How about
Fogwood
? And since our focus is not on addiction, we could serve alcohol at our meetings. So many people would come just for the free drinks, but it would look like our support group was super successful. We’d be on the news and everything. There would be
Fogwood
shirts and hats. Then maybe we could...”