Progress (The Progress Series) (17 page)

“What is this?” She held up the smallest piece on her side.

“That’s called a pawn. He’s the weakest piece. He can only move forward one square, except for his first move. Then, if you want, you can move him two.”

“Okay, got it.”

“The game is won when a player takes out his opponent’s king.” He pointed at the piece.

Piece by piece, Jesse went through their names and how to move them. Charlie concentrated on his words and asked a few questions. After a few minutes, Jesse made the first move.

Charlie worked slowly and constantly checked Jesse’s expression to make sure she had it right. He gave small smiles at first, but then made sure he gave nothing away. He certainly wasn’t going to let her beat him the first time she played.

“Who taught you how to play this?” she asked.

“Lily.”

Charlie nodded and looked back at the board.

Tell her. C’mon, Jesse. Tell her.

Charlie was concentrating and biting the inside of her cheek, trying to figure out the next few moves. She began tugging at her lip with her thumb and index finger.

Tell her.

Charlie made her move and waited anxiously to see if her prediction was correct.

“It started when I was ten,” Jesse said.

She ripped away her concentration on the game and shook her head, trying to switch gears on the conversation. Once she recognized the look on Jesse’s face, she urged him on by staying expressionless. She didn’t want him to retreat and crawl back into the hole in his mind.

“I wasn’t always like this. I used to just be…smart. I used to be able to focus and keep thoughts from escaping through my mouth. I used to be polite, kind, and good. I used to be good.”

Charlie softened and never left Jesse’s eyes.

“I used to get good grades, I had a lot of friends and I never rubbed people the wrong way. I used to be able to read books without needing to read the same lines over and over, and I used to have a family…that I loved.” Jesse’s eyes darted around the room, not looking at anything; remembering.

He could tell she wanted to ask questions, but she stayed silent.

“Then, when I was ten, it all went to shit.”

Charlie looked into his eyes and waited for him to see her.
Really
see her. She wanted to show him that she was listening and wanted to know more. In Jess’s haze around the room, he stopped at her face but was looking straight through her, still trying to summon the memories from their conceptions.

“My little sister meant everything to me. She was so small. So innocent. She was perfect,” he managed to say after some time.

“What happened?” Charlie couldn’t resist the urge to ask. She looked hungry for the answers.

“I was supposed to be watching her.”

Charlie couldn’t tell if his eyes were welling because of his long stare, or for another reason.

“She was taken.” His head fell down below his shoulders and he breathed in slowly.

“What happened to her?” Charlie whispered.

“Mandy…she was found a few
miles from our house. She was only five years old.”

Charlie couldn’t speak. Not only
could he feel it, but Jesse actually saw her heart sink as her shoulders went limp.

He could see her mind racing. He didn’t care. There was nothing more he wanted to say about his sister. He’d never sleep if her face crept back into his head; he would see nothing else for weeks.

“My mind cracked. My parents couldn’t forgive me. Things got really hard. I stopped making sense. I stopped playing baseball, reading books, speaking to my friends. I stopped speaking to anybody. There was nothing I could do to stop the erratic thoughts, to rebalance my…equilibrium.”

“You were only ten,” Charlie managed to choke out.

“I just couldn’t…bargain with rationalization.”

Jesse finally looked up, breaking his train of thought, and looked Charlie in the eyes.

“That’s when I entered the system and became a foster child.”

Charlie nodded.

“But, that’s a story for another day.”

Jesse realigned from the distraction and made his next move in the game. He moved his rook and took out her pawn.

*

He
didn’t know if it was Charlie’s intention to distract him from his despairing hiatus, but he found himself thankful for her that afternoon. They played two games of chess, and he would forever vow that he “allowed” her to win the second one.

On their way up the stairs, a small silver object caught the glare from the overhead light and it made him turn to look. It was Charlie’s silver teddy bear necklace she had been wearing that first evening they spent chatting at The Crimson. She had been fiddling with it, awkwardly. That thought made him smile a little. A quick thought passed through his head, and when Charlie had her back to him, he swiped the necklace and stuffed it in his pocket. He needed something of hers just to keep her close to him; to remind him of her, of that afternoon.

“Will you…What are you going to do tonight? I just want to make sure you’ve got company if you want it,” Charlie asked, walking Jess to her front door.

“I need to get some sleep. I haven’t been doing much of that lately.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Call me, if you need to.”

He went for the door handle then stopped.

“Oh, um. What are you doing on the twentieth of September?” he asked.

Happily surprised by the question, she smiled. “Oh gee, let me check my schedule.” She paused and looked around her entryway. “Yep, just what I thought – nothing.”

“Good. I know it’s a few weeks away, but I have this thing I need to go to. It’s a kind of family reunion. A lot of people, stuffy, annoying—“

She laughed. “Well, you’re certainly making it sound irresistible and worth my while.”

“You don’t have to go, but I usually bring Jake and we get drunk and smoke in the corner, but he’s busy with Julie that night--”

“I’d love to go.”

He nodded uncomfortably and without another word walked out the door.

He hesitated before starting his car; sat in the driver’s seat as he watched her shut the front door.
I just want to stay. Stay with Charlie. Silent. Stay in her room, with the weak smell of her perfume that lingers on her pillow. For her to be there when I wake up. If I wake up. She can keep me. Keep me in that basement bedroom forever. I’d never need to leave. I’d be fine with that, I think.
He fumbled with his keys, trying to put them into the ignition.

I’m tired.

With that last thought, he started his car and backed out of her driveway, upset at his keys for tempting to take him away from her. He didn’t have the energy needed to figure out how to explain to Charlie why he wanted to stay with her.

At two o’clock in the morning, two days later, Jesse finally emerged from a much needed rest. His emotions still raw and bared, he stumbled down the steps at the sound of Jake’s video game.

Jesse hadn’t taken his medication regularly in two weeks.

Despite a slight anticipation of seeing his friend, the room was empty. The video game was in its menu mode and the music was repeating the same sounds every twenty seconds. After a quick decision to turn off the television, in fear of the music driving him further insane, he walked to a stash of books that had been packed away in the entertainment unit.

After twenty minutes, and two pages of a book by H.P. Lovecraft, he resigned. He couldn’t concentrate and found his head swimming with morbidity and melancholy. His eyelids were still heavy and the thought of the amount of energy that would be required for anything was exhausting.

I should just go back to bed.

He didn’t bother putting the strewn books back in their place as he headed back upstairs.

“Hey!
Where are you goin’?” Jake asked, coming through the front door.

“Upstairs.”

“Hey, wait! I saw Charlie tonight. Damn! How much weight has she lost? Have you hit that shit yet?”

“No.” Avoiding the conversation with Jake, he retreated to his room for the evening.

*

After sleeping for another six hours, Jesse awoke to the sun crawling across his bedroom. He tried to cover his face to keep the day away, but he had a shift that morning and had to muster up the energy to get into the shower. Defeated, he wiped the crust from his eyes and crept to the bathroom.

The hours of his days had been long and inched slowly, from the sun entering his bedroom in the morning to the glow from the moon in the evening. He continued working, but found himself going to the restaurant on days he wasn’t scheduled, and missing the days he was. Soon, his employment was in jeopardy.

With a dull headache and a hollow stomach, Jesse arrived at work. His shoulders slouched and his eyes moved slower and out of sync with the rest of his body.

“Hey Jesse, can we talk a minute?” Ben asked.

Jesse ducked his head down and followed Ben to the office in the back. Opening the door and trying to clear spaces for the two of them to sit, Ben gestured for Jesse to sit across from him at the desk.

The room was small and getting smaller by the minute. The walls were slowly moving toward each other and Jesse began feeling miniature.

“Look, I realize you’re going through some shit right now. I get it. I see it. It’s none of my business really, but if you need to talk--” Ben’s demeanor was calm and cool.

“I’m fine. I don’t need to talk to anybody.”

“That’s cool. But I’m here, if ever you decide you need to. But that brings me to my next subject. Now, normally I would just wait for this thing of yours to pass, but Lawrence is starting to notice your erratic behavior. You missed two days last week, and called in sick the week before…” Ben was trying to get his attention, but Jesse kept his head down.

“I’m not going to write you up today. But it will go down on your file that I’ve given you a verbal warning. You just gotta pull your shit together enough to remain unnoticed. However long this funk is going to reign is your business. But…I
do
give a shit. So, just lean on whomever you need to right now and get through this. Call Charlie, call a doctor, someone. Everything can be fixed; nothing is permanent, including your current problem.”

“Can I open the door?” Jesse was still fixated on relieving his claustrophobia.

“Um, sure. I guess. I just need you to sign here, confirming that we spoke today.” Ben gave a hesitant smile and handed Jesse a pen. “Maybe you
should
see a doctor--” Ben murmured.

Jesse scribbled his name and walked out to punch in.

*

A lonely and draining routine kept him in a horrible state. With no motivation to ride, no will to speak, and no overwhelming urge to spend money or enjoy things anymore, Jesse just lay in bed or moped around the house.

His body was heavy and nothing seemed real. Neglecting himself, he didn’t eat, didn’t shower or brush his teeth. He was trapped. Self-loathing and remorse were illuminated by the copious amounts of alcohol he was consuming. With not a hint of light at the end of the tunnel, he continued his routine: Wake, drink. Nap, drink. Work, drink. Sleep.

He visited a psychiatrist once, for about two months, and hadn’t completely written off the experience as fatuous. He’d had to visit the doctor once a year to update his dosages, but never really invested himself in the process. So upon Ben’s suggestion,
and fearing for his job, he made an appointment but hadn’t decided yet whether or not he would disregard it.

He found himself outside the doctor’s office the next day, not remembering if that was the time he had scheduled the appointment. Time had been bouncing from slow to fast for days. As it was, he couldn’t even remember if it had been a few days or weeks since he had seen Charlie.

He pulled on the handle and sluggishly made his way inside.

The waiting room was small, too small. The carpet was gray, the walls white. Stepping to the desk, he said his name, and after he was handed a booklet of forms to fill out he found an uncomfortable seat in the corner.

“Jesse?” a man said, peeking his head around the corner. “Follow me.”

He directed Jesse to an office with a large window where the sun shining in was too bright. Jesse didn’t like the light, but didn’t want to feel like he was boxed in, either. He realized that these two thoughts alone were more than he’d required his brain to compose in weeks.

“So, what can I do for you? It’s been only six months since I saw you last. Need an adjustment in your meds?” the doctor asked, gesturing for him to take a seat. “You said on the phone that you have been having difficulties at work and in your personal life?”

“Yes.”
Jesus. What else did I tell them?

“Look Jesse, these things can be difficult. You’ve been coming to my office for ten years now, wanting refills on your meds. But you have a serious condition. Can I try to convince you that psychotherapy may benefit you as well?”