Chapter 11
Jake
Ihad never been this uncomfortable in my entire life.
I tried to focus on my phone, mindlessly scrolling social media.
Photoshopped bodies, clickbait, cat doing something funny, someone saying something outrageous for attention.
I gave up and put it back in my pocket. My knee bounced as I glanced around the waiting room of Dr. Hall’s office.
I got here way earlier than necessary. I just couldn’t sit still at home anymore and now I was regretting that decision.
A stack of old celebrity magazines sat on a coffee table, there was a water dispenser in the corner.
Some generic, hotel-looking artwork on the wall and a half-dead plant in the corner.
The urge to get up, go back to my truck, and just start driving was strong, but I forced myself to stay in my chair.
I needed this. Natalie sacrificed a lot for this.
The thought just added pressure to the situation.
I needed to get better, and I had to do it fast. The downside was that once I was better, I’d have to let her go.
Letting her go would be even harder after the day we spent together.
Every time I got close to her it was like two wires coming together and creating a spark.
I didn’t have to guess how she wanted to be touched.
I could read her like a book, and I knew if we ever got to be together—really together—the sex would be explosive.
“Jake?” A head popped out of the office and gave me a genuine smile.
I pushed all thoughts of Natalie to the back of my mind.
It was finally time to face this. I got up and followed Dr. Hall to his office.
The wall was covered with certificates, degrees, and diplomas and my shoulders relaxed marginally.
In theory, this guy knew what he was doing.
And then the interrogation began. That was what it felt like anyway.
Symptoms? When did they start? How long did they last?
What triggered them? What didn’t? My palms started to sweat, and it was impossible to sit still.
“Have you ever been in an accident?”
“No.”
“Has anyone you loved passed in an accident?”
“No.”
“Has anyone in your family suffered from anxiety, depression, or any mental disorders?”
“No.”
A dull pain started in my temple and throbbed there distractingly. It felt like the guy was looking for an excuse for my feelings. Searching for some reason why I was struggling besides just being too weak to stay in the job.
“Do you have a support network, Jake?”
The question caught me off guard. He was poking and prodding at all these areas of my brain I hadn’t explored.
Men didn’t talk about this stuff. The guys at the shop seemed to be getting softer about feelings and home life since they started finding the loves of their lives and having babies, but still.
I got up, went to work, bought groceries, fried bacon, did maintenance on my truck, raked leaves, went to bed, and did it all over again.
Well, that was life from the outside anyway.
Inside, I was a mess. Laying my head on my pillow brought up images of what I had seen.
Not just what I had seen but what those accidents must have done for the families left behind.
Things had changed in that regard recently.
The faceless families had been replaced with my own.
The cars in the accidents in my nightmares were some I had seen firsthand but also Natalie’s car.
What would I do if something happened to her?
Technically, we were married, but her family didn’t even know I existed.
Would a police officer show up at my door if something happened to her?
Was I her emergency contact? Or would I just be left to text and call and panic until I saw something about an accident in the newspaper?
“Jake?” the doctor prompted.
I sat and thought about the question. My parents and brother lived in Ontario.
It was common for people to find their way west after high school and that was the direction I headed.
Originally, I worked in Alberta in the oil fields, where there was good money to be made.
Eventually, I found that BC suited me better.
Did my parents support me? Sure, I saw them once a year or so and called my mom on Mother’s Day.
Would I tell her about all of this? Hell no.
She would bake me cookies and hug me and I would feel better for the moment but then I would get back in my truck and nothing would have changed. My thoughts shifted to Natalie.
I hadn’t known her long, but I’d spilled my guts to her about this entire thing. Not only that, but I had let her help me. There was a vulnerability in sharing this part of myself, that I hadn’t really thought of before. “I have my wife, she’s my support system.”