Chapter 6 Aubrey
chapter
six
aubrey
i had always been a dedicated student. I was the weirdo who enjoyed writing research papers and staying up until four in the morning cramming for an exam. But my passion, my enthusiasm, for counseling, my chosen career path, had waned.
Knowing that the people who had championed you were questioning your dedication and abilities had a way of shaking you up.
I sat in Dr. Lowell’s office one weekday afternoon, waiting for her to finish with her class so we could have our first one-on-one meeting since I had received my official reprimand.
I was dreading it.
I looked around her familiar space, noting how different my feelings were about being here than they used to be.
I still felt nothing but respect for my adviser, but there was an awkward tension that had never been there before.
Nothing like ruining someone’s perception of you to fuck up a relationship.
I fixed the wide cuff bracelet on my wrist, fingering the engraved silver. The small infinity symbols were rough on my skin, and I wondered what had possessed me to wear that particular piece of jewelry this morning.
I remembered how excited Jayme had been to give it to me for my sixteenth birthday.
She had been working all summer at the local frozen custard stand to save up for this present.
We had been at the mall almost six months before, and I had seen the cuff bracelet in the window of a small shop.
I had loved it, but when I saw the price tag, I knew there was no way I could afford it.
So Jayme, who was only fourteen, had taken it upon herself to make sure I had it. That was the way we had been together. We would have gone to the ends of the earth for each other. We never fought. We were best friends. Which is why it had hurt so much when all of that had changed.
Because eventually, and rather suddenly, our relationship had soured and she had stopped caring what I thought about anything.
Strangely, over the last month, it had become easier to remember the good times with Jayme rather than wallowing in the bad memories.
I still felt her loss as acutely as ever—that was the sort of pain that never really went away.
But somehow, I had started to readjust my mind to allow for more room to focus on the happy memories.
After everything with Maxx, I realized that concentrating only on the negative would slowly destroy me.
I had experienced more than enough destruction for one lifetime.
I needed to reacquaint myself with the better parts of my past.
I smiled as I thought about the way Jayme’s eyes sparkled as I unwrapped the gift. If I concentrated hard enough, I could still hear her laugh when I tried it on and did a dorky little dance in my excitement.
My mom had taken our picture as we hugged, and then my dad had called us into the kitchen to eat some cake. Mom had ordered my favorite, chocolate buttercream with raspberry filling.
Mom had framed that picture and given it to me a few weeks later. I had left it behind when I had gone to Longwood, thinking rather idiotically that by leaving it at home I could escape the memories.
Now I wished I had brought it with me. I had purposefully not taken any pictures of family when I had left.
Remembering it now, I knew I had been incredibly shortsighted.
I realized what I wanted, more than anything, was to look at my sister’s face again and to remember her for the way she was before the drugs. Before Blake.
Before having to identify her body on that cold morgue table.
That birthday had been significant in so many ways.
It was the last one I remembered where my family was happy together.
That September when school started, Jayme met Blake, and nothing would ever be the same again.
I hadn’t picked up on the subtle changes in Jayme’s personality that now, looking back, I could see so clearly.
Hindsight and all that. But for that moment, things had been perfect.
And it was that moment I was content to focus on now.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Dr. Lowell’s voice took me out of my memories and threw me solidly back into the present.
I sat up a little straighter in my chair and smoothed my skirt nervously before tucking my hair behind my ears.
“No. Not long,” I said, lying. I had been there for over twenty minutes already. But no sense in pointing that out.
Dr. Lowell acknowledged my answer with a nod.
She made herself a cup of coffee, and I noted how she didn’t offer me one.
This one tiny omission hit me hard. It epitomized everything that had changed between Dr. Lowell and me.
She walked around her desk and sat down in her chair, reaching for a manila file that sat on top of a stack of papers.
There was no polite exchange of pleasantries. No easy chitchat or questions about my week. Only cold silence and grim anticipation. I picked at the skin around my fingernails anxiously, unable to curb the obsessive tic. Habits were hard to break. I knew that only too well.
After a few minutes, Dr. Lowell looked up from the folder and pushed up the glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She smiled. A tight caricature of what I was used to from her.
“How are you?” she asked gruffly.
I blinked a few times, wondering how honest I should be with the woman who had been my mentor. Dr. Lowell crossed her hands in front of her and leaned forward. “You look as though you haven’t been sleeping,” she observed.
I cleared my throat and twirled the bracelet on my wrist as though it were a talisman of some sort. And strangely, it did help calm my twisting stomach.
“I haven’t been, really,” I admitted, having a difficult time making eye contact.
“And you’ve lost weight,” Dr. Lowell continued, her hawkish eyes taking in every detail. She was entirely too observant for my peace of mind.
I cleared my throat again, wishing I had a glass of water. “Yeah, I guess so,” I said.
“I’m concerned about you, Aubrey,” she remarked, her voice softening marginally.
“Concerned?” I asked, not exactly sure how I was supposed to take her proclamation.
“I know you’ve been through a lot in the last few weeks. You’ve lost your way. Veered off course. Am I using the correct euphemisms?” Her lips quirked into a more natural smile, and even though I appreciated her effort, I couldn’t reciprocate.
It was disconcerting to be read so clearly. “I suppose I have,” I said softly.
“How did you get to this point, Aubrey?” Dr. Lowell’s question was startling in its straightforwardness.
I knew exactly what she was doing. She was shrinking me.
She was looking at me as a patient. A client.
It was mortifying to know that the strong, competent exterior I had been developing for years was nowhere to be found.
I wasn’t fooling anyone anymore, least of all Dr. Lowell.
What had led me to this point? Christ, I had been wondering the same thing since I had watched Maxx fight for his life on that disgusting bathroom floor.
A thousand unanswered questions had flitted through my mind in that small space of time. In the split second it took for me to realize the man I loved was dying because of his own demons and my inability to see them, I had realized that I really didn’t know myself at all.
I rubbed the cuff bracelet with a bit more ferocity.
“I’m not sure, Dr. Lowell,” I answered, trying not to be vague, but only honest.
Dr. Lowell rubbed a red spot on the bridge of her nose from her glasses.
She looked as though she had a headache.
I knew my actions had affected more people than just me.
That she, being my adviser, had most likely received a lot of flak for not picking up on the situation.
I had put more than my future at risk by making the choices that I had.
And I had been too selfish and self-absorbed to realize that.
But then, at the time, nothing had mattered but the love I had discovered with the worst possible person.
“You’re a smart young woman, Aubrey. You have a lot of potential.
I’ve always appreciated how open and honest you’ve been about your history.
About the ways in which your sister’s death has affected you.
But perhaps we’re here through failings on my part.
I put you in a position where you would be opening yourself up to things that could possibly trigger you.
It was unfair of me to put that kind of pressure on you.
I saw the red flags. Kristie had brought to my attention some incidents that I was too quick to dismiss.
I think that at the end of the day, I’m just as culpable in this situation as you are, Aubrey.
” Dr. Lowell looked tired and sad, resigned.
“Dr. Lowell, that’s not true. You’ve been nothing but supportive. I can’t thank you enough for putting faith in me in the first place. I’m the one who messed up, not you. I did something I knew was wrong and hid it from everyone,” I said, glad I was able to get that out without crying.
Dr. Lowell sat back in her chair and looked at me over the rim of her glasses. “And that, right there, is what sets you apart, Aubrey.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t undo what happened. The only thing I had hoped was for you to take responsibility.” Dr. Lowell took off her glasses and slowly put them down on her desk.
“I remember reading a quote back during my undergrad years that said, Adversity is the first path to truth. Over the years, I’ve found this to be the truest statement I’ve ever heard.
You have to go through the hard stuff to find exactly where you need to be.
And I believe that how we react in our bleakest moments is a testament to the person we really are. ”
Dr. Lowell smiled again, and this time it was genuine and maybe tinged with something that looked like pride.
“You’ve impressed me, Aubrey.”