Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Tom
My hands clamp around the edges of the bathroom sink, screaming at the top of my lungs. The cold water dripping over my face can’t cool me down.
My head bends forward. I don’t want to look up.
I do it anyway.
What stares back at me is one big fucking disappointment.
That’s not me. It’s someone else. A hollowed-out version of myself. A stranger with the same features but an empty, ugly soul. My eyes used to be softer. Now they look… lifeless. Haunted.
Nausea churns in my stomach. The longer I stare, the more I feel like I want to throw up.
The things I’d said to Yosh were dreadful, and they weren’t even about him. They’re my own insecurities coming to the surface.
He saw through my usual bullshit and I couldn’t handle it.
I can’t handle losing control. Not in fights. Not in life. Not ever.
So I did what I always do. I lashed out. I attacked. Because if I hadn’t, I would’ve had to start talking about myself, and that’s… terrifying.
I don’t even know why I reacted like that. I barely know the guy, yet somehow I feel like I do. There’s something about him that tells me he’s seen too much, just like me. And that scares the living hell out of me. Just the thought alone that perhaps he understands…
Okay. Maybe I was a little impressed by him.
I let out a bitter laugh. God, Arcadia is going to be torture, and I haven’t even started any program yet.
Maybe I never will. I fucked up, and Yosh is probably done with me.
Honestly, I’m surprised he stayed calm that long. If I’d been in his place, I would’ve knocked my own teeth out.
And since I’m already on this truth-spilling tour with myself in the mirror, I’ll just admit it: I wanted him to.
A punch to the jaw, a split lip, something to knock me out of my own head. But of course, that would’ve been highly inappropriate, so let’s just call it a figure of speech.
My reflection flickers. I see Emily, then it’s me again.
I need to apologize, except my head is a fucking hurricane right now, and if I try to talk to him in this state, I’ll probably make things worse.
I push off the sink. That’s when I notice my hands are shaking. The tremors crawl up my arms like electricity under my skin, my mouth as dry as the desert.
This is my body telling me what to do.
I need a drink. One drink to take the edge off and quiet the storm in my head.
The phantom taste of whisky burns at the back of my throat, and for a moment, I swear I can feel the comforting weight of a glass in my hand.
I push my fingers desperately into my temples. I can’t go down that road. I made a promise to myself for the sake of Effy. I need to do this for Effy. I need to stay sober for Effy.
My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms.
I need to wait it out. But fuck, it’s so tempting when everything feels like shit.
I swallow hard as I shove myself away from the sink. I don’t trust myself to stand any longer. If I do, I might walk straight to the nearest bar outside Arcadia.
Crashing onto the mattress, I wrap my body around a pillow for comfort.
I need to make this right and I need help to do that. I need Yosh to help me.
The demanding voices clash inside my head. I close my eyes and let them. Eventually, exhaustion wins, and it takes me to the land of dreams and nightmares.
A guy I recognize as a German finance bro approaches my table. He parts his lips, then nods in apology the moment he spots the blue necklace on my chest.
I give him a polite smile before he moves on to the next table.
Earlier, I snagged one of those ugly lanyards at the front desk. It signals that I’m on a silent retreat, meaning I don’t wish to speak. Not that I care about the “retreat” part; I simply don’t feel like talking tonight.
So I go on with my dinner, in silence.
Scribble a verse onto a napkin, in silence.
And meanwhile, I’m scanning the pool-side terrace for my therapist, in silence.
But he’s not here.
Usually—if I can even call it that after one day in paradise jail—a group of therapists and medical staff eat together at the long table. They’re here again tonight, just like yesterday, but Yosh isn’t with them. If I remember right, he wasn’t there yesterday either.
I find Erin at the head of that table, laughing and gesturing like as she’s scrolling through something on her tablet. She waves and smiles as she spots me looking her way.
Eagle eyes like hers need to be handled with caution. But at least her reaction tells me she doesn’t know about the little act I pulled with Yosh earlier today.
I sigh, pushing back from the table. My feet take me to the one place I might find him.
A few minutes later, I spot his familiar silhouette in the meditation garden.
He’s alone, sitting in front of the man-made waterfall, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed in deep meditation.
I grab a mat from the rack and settle down beside him.
I’m not really sure what to do, so I sit and listen to the water, to the parrots in the trees, to his deep breaths as his chest rises and falls. Instinctively, I try to match his pace, syncing my inhales and exhales with his.
He notices.
His breath stutters, a frustrated groan humming in his throat. Me trying to keep up is clearly throwing him off balance. Maybe talking is the better option.
“Yosh, I—”
“Shh.”
He lifts his hand but doesn’t open his eyes. A long exhale follows.
“I just wanted—”
“Shh.”
Fucking hell. I’m trying to have a serious conversation to make things right, and he has the audacity to shush me?
I push myself up, ready to leave, but before I can get to my feet, his hand grips my arm. He yanks me back down beside him.
“Stay.”
“What am I supposed—”
“Follow my lead. Remain silent until you’re spoken to.”
I roll my eyes but I follow his breathing.
It takes a minute—maybe longer—but eventually, we find a shared balance. Long, deep inhales. Controlled exhales. In unison.
It’s dangerously close to connecting.
I find oxygen, hear the birds in the evening sky. Occasionally, droplets from the fountain splash against my cheek. It’s doing something to me.
And yes, It’s overwhelming, but in the best way. Amsterdam never sleeps, and neither did I. But now, the salty ocean air fills my lungs and I start to understand why he’s doing this. Why a place like Arcadia exists. And more than that: I start to understand how much I actually need this.
“Okay, one last time,” Yosh says. “Breathe in as deep as you can. Hold it for seven seconds. Then push all the air out.”
I do as he says. When I open my eyes, I find him staring at me.
“How did that feel?”
“Good.”
“Good.”
With that, he rolls up his mat and tosses it onto a nearby rack.
I trail behind him, but he ignores me. Silent treatment. Fair enough. I had it coming.
“Yosh, can we please talk?”
“Okay. Speak.”
“About this morning, I shouldn’t have said all that stuff. It wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
I rub the back of my neck, gathering my thoughts. “I really am sorry, Yosh. I hope you still want to continue working with me. If you don’t, I totally understand.”
That makes him stop, arms folded as he turns.
“I appreciate the apology, Tom, but you don’t have to wonder whether I’ll quit on you or not. I can handle it. You’re not the first one lashing out like a rabid dog and biting at anything that gets too close.”
He tilts his head slightly. “It happens. Fear does that to people. And I get it.”
Relief washes over me, before Yosh steps closer and lifts a finger in front of my nose. Suddenly his face is just inches from mine now.
“But never, ever, get in my personal space again.”
He’s probably refering to when I whispered in his ear, touched his hair, his necklace.
I nod. That shit was inappropriate.
But… isn’t he doing the exact same thing right now?
Before I can decide if it’s worth saying, the words are already out of my mouth.
“Just the way you are right now?”
His eyes flick over me, registering the space, or the lack of it.
He blinks as he quickly steps back.
The silence that follows is awkward as hell, neither of us knowing how to break it. A sudden violin solo cuts through the air.
Bollocks, that’s my phone.
I fish it out of my pocket.
“You set an alarm?” Yosh asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” I stuff my phone away. “I wanted to catch today’s sunset.”
And then, for the first time since we met, I see a real, unguarded smile on his face.
“Don’t just stand there,” he says, nodding toward the infinity terrace. “It happens fast. Come with me.”
We take a short walk past the guest studios, the sky shifting colors with every passing second. The infinity terrace is in front of us, offering an 180-degree view. We reach the railing just in time for the show to begin.
The sun sinks fast, melting into the horizon like warm caramel over chocolate.
The water catches the last of the light, turning the waves into liquid gold.
And the sky, holy fuck, the sky. It’s like someone went nuts with a paintbrush, throwing every shade of pink, purple, and orange together without a plan.
But somehow, it works, and it results in a perfect aquarelle.
I fold my arms, leaning on the railing, watching all of it.
Yosh is doing the same. He must’ve seen this a thousand times, but I guess you never get used to it.
I turn my gaze back to the water because I don’t want to miss a second of it.
It takes, what, a minute? Maybe less? One blink and the sun’s gone.
But the show isn’t done yet. The colors intensify and turn into a darker blue. The world is cooling around us, but the sky burns alive in the afterglow.
“The Caribbean lights.” Yosh sighs beside me. “I try to catch every sunset and every sunrise. In those few minutes, I go over everything in my life I’m grateful for.”
There’s something about the way he says it that catches my interest. It’s not the expected Arcadia performance. Being this mindful is part of him.
“That sounds like… a grounding thing to do.” I’m not quite sure what the right response is.
Yosh turns to me. “Tell me, Tom. What are you grateful for?”
My fingers tighten around the railing, an orchestra of crickets appearing in my upstairs chambers.
“Uhh… I’m grateful for music.”
He hums softly, waiting for more.
“And… I guess I’m grateful Jay sent me here? I mean, I do want to turn my life around. I just don’t know how.”
“That’s okay. You’ll figure it out as you go. What matters is being willing to work on yourself, the rest will follow.”
I must be staring at him like the crickets are still performing, because he chuckles and points at the lounge chairs.
“Want to sit for a bit?”
I nod, accepting what is clearly going to be talk session 2.0 for today.