Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Chapter 17

“YOU DON’T HAVE to wait for me, you know. You didn’t even have to come,” I tell Jake, Monroe, and Max who are all sitting in the waiting room of the Wellness Center with me.

“First off, we told you that we’re in this with you. Second, we had a feeling you were going to try to self-sabotage yourself and blow this off so we’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Jake responds and goes back to flipping through some magazine that was lying around the waiting room of the Wellness Center.

“I promised your sister I’d make sure you got your ass in there.”

“I just wanted to hear what happened with Sloane after she picked you up last night. Don’t leave anything out, sunshine.” Monroe says and pockets his phone giving me his undivided attention.

“You do know it’s my choice if I don’t want to do this right?” I ignore his inquisition about Sloane and try to get them to leave. If I had more fight left in me I probably would’ve dug my heels in and either flat-out refused or quit the team when Coach demanded that I give therapy a shot.

It’s not that I don’t think counseling can help people, I know it can. I’ve seen the good it’s done for my sister. I just don’t think anyone can help me.

I’m too exhausted to give it, or me, the attention it needs. I’ve heard B say that therapy is only an hour a week, the rest of the time is up to you to make the changes you need for yourself. I just don’t care about myself enough to do that. I’m not worth the effort. It’s easier to just coast. Flip on that autopilot mode. It’s kinda become the only way I can get through the day now.

“You’re doing this. You need it. You’ve been like this for months now and it’s time to get some help. If I have to drag you to every single session I will. I know what depression is like and I know that this can help you sort it out.” Jake says and holds out his fisted hand for me to bump.

“Come on, man, give it a shot. What’s the alternative? Getting kicked off the team? Feeling miserable every damn day?” Max adds and his fisted hand joins Jake.

“You can do this, brother, we know you can. We’re right here with you.” Monroe holds out his fist and the three of them wait, giving me a moment to agree. I hold my fist out and they enthusiastically smash our hands together.

A second later I’m called back into a private office to meet my new therapist. I rise from the plastic chair I’ve felt stuck to and wipe the sweat off my hands. The three of them stand and clap me on the back. It’s all probably overkill but I appreciate them showing up, making sure I got here, and believing in me when I clearly don’t think any of this is worth a damn. Even so, I don’t wanna let them down.

I’m nervous. Really fucking nervous. My hands are still sweating and my mouth is bone dry. My fingers are shaky as I twist off the plastic cap of the water bottle Max brought me and take a sip. The cool liquid is hard to swallow around the lump that’s lodged in my throat. I don’t know if I can do this.

A younger woman with a warm smile meets me at an open office and introduces herself. She leads me into her office and motions for me to take a seat.

She starts off with some basics about the office, scheduling, and Coach’s call. ’m trying to listen but it’s fucking hard when all I can think about is the mountain of shit there is to shift through.

Do I tell her that I’m adopted and have significant fears of being abandoned that I didn’t realize were even there until recently?

Should I tell her that I’ve let my sister down and as a result she’s been brutally attacked twice?

What about my obsession with said sister”s best friend?

Or maybe I should tell her that I hate myself. That’s always a great fucking way to lead off a conversation.

“I can see you thinking awfully hard over there,” she says and eyes me through her glasses.

“I don’t really know what to say,” I tell her and shrug my shoulders.

“Start with why you’re here today and we’ll take it from there.”

So I do. I end up telling her everything. I let it all fucking hang out. I don’t stop once I start and it’s like some form of verbal diarrhea.

Ninety minutes later I’m walking out the door with an appointment for Monday and head toward home. I’m too mentally wrung out to go to class and I need to run. I’m fucking desperate for it.

I start to jog down the paths of campus and force myself out of Havenwood and onto the sidewalks of town. I run for ninety minutes straight. One minute for every minute of therapy.

When I make my way back home I’m a hungry and exhausted mess. The adrenaline rush of the morning is crashing down on me and I just want my bed.

No one’s home, but that doesn’t stop me from moving around the house as quickly as I can. One of them is probably assigned to check in on me soon. I love those assholes, but I can’t share anything else today. I’m all talked out.

I make four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, grab some bananas, and as many water bottles as I can carry and head upstairs. I nearly drop it all when I open my bedroom door and am hit with the undeniable smell of lemon and disinfectant. What the fuck?

My entire room is full of bright sunlight. The blinds on my two windows are pulled up high and each window is open, letting fresh air pour in. My bed is made and looks clean. The piles of clothes on the floor are all folded in the laundry baskets that are usually full of garbage or flipped over as makeshift surfaces for me to stack dirty dishes on.

All the trash has been taken out. My desk is organized and looks like it’s been wiped down. There’s two plug-ins stuck into outlets on either side of the room and I can see my carpeted floor which looks like it’s been vacuumed. Holy shit.

This has B written all over it. I place my food and water bottles on my desk and dig my phone outta my joggers. I didn’t want her to see how bad things had gotten. I didn’t want her to feel like any of it was her fault.

ME:

Thanks for what you did in here

It must have taken you all morning to clean up my mess

B:

Max and Drew helped

I want to do more for you, let me help you

ME:

You’re the best sister in the world you know that?

B:

And YOU don’t have to go through this alone anymore, DO YOU KNOW THAT?

That’s what family is for Chase

I carefully lower myself down on top of my fresh bed, not wanting to disturb the fresh and crisp comforter. I feel like I’m laying on a cloud. I’m engulfed by the plushy blanket and stare at my ceiling for a while, letting the high emotions of my morning sink into the cotton along with some damn tears that leak out of my eyes.

My sister’s last message is vibrating through me even though our text messaging has stopped. That’s what family is for Chase.

And how have I shown her that I’m deserving of being her family? By creeping on her best friend? By hurting her over and over again? She still came in and cleaned up for me. She showed up for me. A dragged me into the shower and made me breakfast. He showed up, too.

During therapy, we talked about what was important to me. I didn’t hesitate when I listed off my siblings and parents. My boys too. My family.

She talked about the importance of leaning on my support system and letting people in. Accepting help and being good to myself. I know what she means, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know how to forgive myself. I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to fucking do any of it.