Chapter 19
Charlotte
Ari walks into our shared room a few minutes after I do and immediately plops down beside me on my bed. She wraps her stick-thin arms around my shoulders and leans our heads together.
“How did it go?” she asks.
Jesus. What do I say? I know she’s specifically asking about the trial, but my head is still so spun up over what happened thirty minutes ago in the parking lot. My lips still burn from the all-consuming kiss. Why did he do that? Why did I do that?
Sure, Dr. Turner is attractive – I’m sorry, Jensen. I have eyes. That man is built, and his toned muscles are proof of a lifetime of dedication to fitness. The silver streaks along his temple only add to the allure of the man who makes sweater vests look like lingerie. I never thought I had a Mr. Rogers kink, but fuck me, Jensen is undeniably hot. He may be pushing forty or maybe fifty, but the man could still get it, in another life.
In this life, it’s fucking wrong. Set aside the power dynamic and age gap. My head is already fucked by two boys. One who doesn’t deserve to be in my thoughts after the shit he put me through. And the second is someone who I don’t deserve for the same reasons.
But I can’t help the ache in my heart when I think about those smokey eyes that day in the pool when he tossed both of us in with our clothes on, kissed the shit out of me, and asked me to be his girlfriend. No one has ever looked at me, inside me , like that .
But he betrayed me. He took the love I was offering, set it on fire, and then roasted s’mores on the flaming carcass of my heart with Jade by his side.
I wish I could use a magic wand to pull those memories from my brain. I don’t want to think about Jason. I’ve tried so hard to move past him and the feelings he invokes.
Did I though? Or did I just get high about it?
For fuck’s sake. Maybe I need to talk about this in therapy…
Except, oh wait! I fucked that up, too, by making out with my fucking shrink.
Why am I so goddamn broken?
All I’ve had is time in this shit hole to think about all my many, many, many failures in life. I have plenty of regrets. But I’m tired of begging to be someone’s first choice. I won’t throw away a chance to be truly loved.
When I get out of here, I am headed straight to Zach to ask him to give us a real chance. He already told me he loved me. I want to believe him. So badly. I want to be worthy of his love.
He deserves nothing less than my full attention. My full, sober attention. It’s time to move on. Forget the past. I probably only have these residual feelings about Jason because I gave him my virginity. This is exactly why guys don’t like to be the one to pop a chick’s cherry. They linger. Fucking lingerers.
It’s not real , I tell myself.
It’s just my hormones messing with my version of reality.
Zach is real. Zach is my now. Zach is my future. I can love Zach… Yeah, I can do this.
My eyes close, and I shake my head back and forth, “Girl. Do we have some shit to discuss…” And I tell her everything. The trial, the angry girl, the verdict, and the spit swapping with our resident hottie therapist.
Ari, being the true friend she is, doesn’t lecture me or question my choices. She simply listens, rubbing soothing circles along my back while I spill my guts.
“When is the sentencing?” she asks when I finish my recap of the day.
I shrug a shoulder, “They set a date for April. ”
“But that’s almost three months away!” She huffs in annoyance.
I nod, “Yep. But the good news is he stays locked up in the meantime. My lawyer said with the charges he was found guilty of, I don’t ever have to worry about seeing him without bars between us for the rest of my life.”
“Good. Fucking jerk.”
I bark a laugh at that. Ari is not big on cussing, so when she does, it always sounds strange—like a newborn speaking in full sentences.
“What am I going to do without you? I can’t believe you’re finally getting out of this place in less than two days,” she laments as she squeezes my arm tighter, “I’m going to miss you so much. Charlie, you’ve become my best friend. You’ve given me a reason to stick around.” She looks down at her bandaged wrist, the attempt on her life still fresh in her memory.
The agony of the recollection plays across her delicate features. I turn to face her and gather her in my arms, crushing our bodies together in the snuggest of hugs.
“Aurelia, you are an amazing human. You are kind and forgiving, even when you shouldn’t be. You are a beautiful soul, inside and out. Never let someone make you feel less than the badass queen you are. I love you so much. I thank the universe every day for bringing us together, even in this fucked up place. I need you, Ari. The world needs you. Stay.”
She pulls back and frames my face with her hands. Her eyes flood with tears as they pierce into mine, “Ditto, Charlie. Fucking ditto.”
* * *
I shake off the nerves twitching in my arms as I raise my fist up and knock on the door. “Come in,” a clipped voice answers from the other side.
Twisting the knob, I press the heavy wooden door in and take in Jensen’s office space, the very empty office space. What the fuck. I close the door and spin around, taking in the mostly empty shelves of his bookcase. The office box on his desk, with his diplomas and nameplate inside, edges sticking out haphazardly .
Jensen is rummaging through his desk drawers, pulling out pens, notepads, and other office supplies.
“W-what…” I start, but the words fade off my tongue. I don’t really know what to say. He has yet to look at me, though he is clearly aware of my presence. “Jensen, what’s going on?” I manage.
His shoulders stiffen, his head snaps up, and his eyes are void of the softness I’ve come to expect from him. “Dr. Turner.” He grits out in correction.
“Okay,” I drag the word out, tentatively taking a step toward the studious but currently feral beast on the other side of the desk. “Dr. Turner, what is happening here?” I try to keep the hurt out of my voice, but the slumping of his shoulders tells me I wasn’t exactly successful.
He hangs his head, his forearm pressing against the top of his desk, holding his weight up. He speaks to the desk, but the words are for me, “I crossed a line, Miss Johnson. A line I never should have remotely approached.”
“I can’t stay here. I won’t let a momentary lapse in judgment demolish my career.” He protests.
Um, ouch. I also agree the kiss was a mistake, but fuck did he have to say it like that?
He doesn’t wait for me to interject, “I have a standing offer at a clinic in California, and I’ve decided to take them up on it. Today was my last day at Starry North.”
“But, who’s going to do my mandatory therapy? You were supposed to be my person for the next six months, remember?” I chastise, my feelings a little more hurt than I care to admit.
Dr. Turner flings a business card across the desk at me, and it lands at my fingertips. I put my finger to it and turn to read the writing across the front: Margaret Thitters, PHD PSYC.
“What the fuck is this? Can you just talk to me?” I toss the card back in his direction. It misses him entirely and flutters to the ground under his desk.
“I can no longer help you, effective immediately. Dr. Thitters is a colleague of mine and is willing to take you on for the duration of your court order and after if you so choose. ”
I fold my arms across my chest, rage bubbles in my stomach, marching its way up my body. I bristle at the clear rejection, “So, that’s it then? You kiss me, now you’re running away like a little bitch instead of having a conversation like a fucking adult?”
His eyes widen in anger, and he storms around the desk and stands toe to toe with me. His hands tightly fisted and bouncing off his thighs, “What aren’t you understanding? I can’t be here anymore. I can’t be around you, Miss Johnson. If I were more of a man, I would resign. But this has never happened to me before. I’ve never crossed a line. Ever. I’ve never been tempted to. But you,” his voice softens as his hand lifts like he wants to reach for me.
I instinctively pull back from him. He sighs and drops it down with a smack against his thigh.
“I’ve developed inappropriate feelings for you. I should’ve recused myself as your therapist long before now, but I’ve been selfish. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. I know it’s wrong, fuck, I know–” His hands fly to the top of his head and run through his perfectly combed hair in frustration.
Dr. Turner bends down to meet me at eye level, the gentle features I’ve become accustomed to back on his face, “Charlie, I need you to understand that this isn’t about you. This is about me. You did nothing wrong. This is my fault.”
I want to tell him he’s wrong, but he’s kinda right. Did I kiss him back? Yes. Did I think he was hot? Also, yes. But I didn’t pursue this. He’s beating himself up enough for the both of us. So I’ll give him this. I’ll play the part he needs me to.
I bob my head up and down in acceptance, “I understand. Thank you, Dr. Turner,” I bend down and grab the discarded business card of his colleague, tucking it safely inside my notebook and make my way to the door. Before leaving, I turn back to him, “You’re a good man, Jensen. I know bad men. I know users and abusers,” I shake my head vehemently, making sure he knows I mean every word, “That’s not you. You are good. I hope you have a great life in Cali. Hit some waves for me.” I smile sadly when our eyes stay locked together until the closing of the door breaks the spell.
* * *
Though I’m absolutely not going to miss that place at all, I miss Ari already. When I was walking out, I caught the Fugly Five –Roman, his lackey, and the tres twatsickles – watching me with sneers on their faces. It took everything I had not to charge into their group and kick Roman in the nuts again as a parting gift. If they mess with Ari, I will make my way back here and fuck shit up.
I’ve spent the last hour watching the trees go by in a blur as Mary takes us on the two-hour journey back to River View. She’s tried to make small talk, but I’m just not in a talkative mood. I’m anxious as hell. I haven’t seen Zach in over three months, and the last time we spoke, I was hospitalized, in and out of consciousness, and withdrawing until I got on a dose of Suboxone.
I wasn’t allowed any non-familial visitors or phone calls. Mary was the only exception to that rule since I am technically an adult, I told them she was my mom, they couldn’t prove otherwise. Still, I refused any visitors except for the trial. I sure as shit didn’t want to see Grayson, and I just couldn’t bring myself to face Mary.
Seeing the disappointment on her face would be almost as bad as seeing it on my momma’s. The first two months were rough. Between struggling to come to terms with what’s happened in my life in the last year or so, the drugs, Priest, Jason, and Zach. It took the nurses a while to get a good medication dosage and type to bring me a semblance of normality, headspace-wise.
I’ll never be “fixed”. I know if I’m not diligent with medication and therapy, I can slide right the fuck off the sanity wagon and dive back into the deep recesses of depression and drugs.
Things aren’t all sunshine and rainbows, but I have something that’s always been a little foreign to me. Hope.
The metal disk sits heavily in my palm, another token of my sobriety. Ninety days. Joe sought me out yesterday and presented the medallion to me with another copy of the meeting list.
He also reminded me that the real work begins in the outside world. It’s easier to adhere to abstinence when you don’t have access to temptation.
I’ve never been happier to see the crappy, rust-spotted, beige four-door jalopy than right now. I’m sure Mom could’ve replaced it at any point over the years, but she was bound and determined to “ride it until the wheels fell off,” and now, so am I.
I thank Mary for coming to get me and toss my bag on Savvy’s bed. Thankfully I had the forethought to shower this morning and since I was being discharged, they let me have my entry outfit back. A simple pair of jeans and a tye-dye 70s band tee.
I don’t care what I look like, and I’m pretty damn sure he won’t, either. I’m so giddy to see Zach that I completely forgot to grab my cell from Savvy’s dresser, and it only occurred to me once I was already on the way to Sky Ridge.
Pulling into the long gravel driveway of the Morris estate feels surreal. Excitement floods my body. I am going to kiss his fucking face off. And then fuck his brains out. We have a lot of time to make up for.
I get out of the car, trying to tamp down my grin so I don’t scare the poor boy away. I lift my hand to knock on the door and do a little happy shimmy as I await the answer.
A gorgeous woman with sandy-blonde hair in a super cute floral sundress opens the door with a warm smile, “Hiya darlin’, how can I help you?” Oh my God, she’s just so cute. I want to stick her in my pocket and take her home with me.
“Hi, Mrs. Morris. My name is Charlotte. I’m here to see Zach,” I tell her, giddiness weaving through my words.
Her smile falters just a little, enough to sink my heart. She opens the door wider and gestures for me to come in, “Let’s have a chat, honey.”