31. Malcolm
“How are you doing today?”
“Fine,” I say, which is the truth. I’m fine. Aside from the fact that I spent multiple hours of my day yesterday looking at sparkles and lace, then I had to endure a tiny woman poking me with safety pins to get things just right, I am peachy. “Today is fine.”
I sit across from Dr. Ford in this sterile room full of muted tones that are probably meant to be soothing for troubled minds like mine. But I just find it annoying. Get a plant or something, lady. I fidget with a loose thread on the chair, feeling a little on edge as the clock ticks by overhead.
Alright, maybe I’m not fine. If I’m being honest, I woke up distracted, grappling with emotions I can’t quite pinpoint.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She doesn’t look up from her notepad. She rarely ever does. Her demeanor is much harsher than Ellie’s, which is probably why I get along with her so well. If I have even an inkling of self-pity, Dr. Ford sets me straight, reminding me that pity is usually self-induced and projected onto others. And the only person I have to blame for those feelings is myself.
Do I pity myself? Unfortunately, yes. I’m hung up on a woman who views me as a friend. I’m just as much an option to her as Bill is. And I keep thinking about the loss of Brennan. He’s been gone for eight years, but the memories are fresh and raw. Most of my days I can get through without thinking about him. Most days, I feel at peace with the loss. But then, on the rare occasion, I’m triggered by a sound or a smell, and it feels like I can’t escape it, like my brain truly is my own worst enemy, and I’m suffocated by the memory of my friend. His laughter echoes in the corners of my mind—a gutting reminder of his life cut too short.
You can fight in a million battles, coming out the other side, but there are still wounds from it. Some you can’t see. And some never leave, surging forth with new intensity when you least expect it. I’ve grown to accept that the wound of losing Brennan might never fully leave me, and even after all these years, the memory of him will always be lingering in the back of my mind, waiting to be triggered and let loose. I’ll probably be eighty years old, sitting in my recliner for my afternoon nap, and it’ll hit me—tormenting me, clawing at me to be relived. That’s just the way it is.
“Not really,” I finally respond.
She eyes me, speculating, probably aware that I just had a mini therapy session in my head. That’s usually how this goes. Prying me for information never goes well, hence I don’t see Ellie for this sort of thing. I’m also pretty sure that’s a conflict of interest, no matter how often she tells me she can be professional.
“Do you know what today is?”
I didn’t expect to be quizzed on the date when I walked in here.
“It’s Thursday,” I grumble. She looks at me over her glasses, waiting. “Uh…the 18th?” Her eyes soften as she pulls her glasses off, letting it sink in. April 18th.
The anniversary of Brennan’s death.
Eight years.
Dr. Ford’s voice is a distant murmur as I drift further into the memory, watching the helicopter collide with the ground, engulfing itself and its one passenger in flames on impact. I can feel the heat burning my face and neck, the breath in my lungs constricting, my heart racing. Everything around me starts to spin. I can see Dr. Ford’s mouth moving, her posture changing, but I can’t make out what she’s saying to me.
Slamming my eyes shut, I breathe in for three and out for three, just as instructed in the past. It does nothing, and now my head is pounding. I feel my chest heaving as Brennan’s face flashes in my mind, his dorky smile and kid-like stature. The image is haunting and suffocating. I try to breathe again, a little longer this time.
I hear Dr. Ford’s voice become clearer, her words ringing in my ear. “Focus on something else, something peaceful.” She lists off the typical peace-inducing scenes—a waterfall, a river, meditating in the green grass. In theory, they would work, but my mind focuses on something else.
Kate’s face flashes into focus like a beacon, dissipating the darkness swirling around me. Her dark-brown eyes flicker at me, pools of warmth and understanding, anchoring themselves to me and holding me stable. Her gentle hands hold me as I tremble, confidently and without fear, like seeing me this way doesn’t scare her. “You can get through this,” she whispers to me. Looking into her eyes, I know I’m not alone. Everything that haunts me fades. The ghosts of my past lose their power when she’s near.
I realize, with sudden clarity, that she is the reason I’ve made it this far. Not the only reason, but one of the biggest reasons I’ve found any sort of healing at all. Dr. Ford is great and all, but Kate has been a lifeline in a sea of thundering emotions—a glimmer of hope, as cheesy as that sounds.
My breathing stabilizes, and my heart slows. “Kate,” I whisper, almost to myself. “That’s my peace. She is my peace.”
Dr. Ford sets down her notepad, a different look on her face than I’ve seen before. She waits again, assuming I will expand. I rub my knuckles against my chest and sit up a little straighter, grappling with the truth I haven’t let anyone hear yet.
“For the longest time, I thought she was a distraction. Annoying as hell sometimes. A little too quirky all the time. But it was enough.” I shrug, and Dr. Ford keeps waiting. Damn this woman, wanting me to expand on my feelings. “It wasn’t at first. I actually didn’t see it coming.”
“Didn’t see what coming?” Dr. Ford asks, setting her pen down.
“This fireball of a woman wedging herself in. I thought she would drive me nuts.”
Dr. Ford laughs. “But she does, yes? Drive you nuts?”
“The woman is maddening.”
“And how is that helpful for you?” She clicks her pen, preparing to write down my answer.
I let out a huff and hesitate with a response. “I don’t know. It just is.” I don’t have as many nightmares with her around, I don’t think about Brennan as much, and the fear that I might never get through my grief has dwindled a tiny bit. I exhale and finally say, “Things just started to change the more she was around, so I forced myself to hang out with her more—a kind of distraction from the things I didn’t want to deal with. She’s a gorgeous woman, so it wasn’t like it was miserable or anything. But over time, I realized she’s not a distraction.”
“I see, and what is she, then?”
“She’s a safe place.”
When these haunting thoughts have nagged at me, she’s pulled me out of it. She hasn’t erased the memories—I don’t think anything ever will—but she’s made them bearable. The truth settles the roaring anxiety inside me, calming it like a damn hurricane. In this silent war against myself, I’ve had an ally, anchoring me in ways I didn’t realize I needed. “I obviously haven’t fully healed, or I wouldn’t be here, Doc. But Kate gives me the strength I can’t summon on my own…” I pause, wanting to punch myself in the throat as realization washes over me. “And she doesn’t even know it!”
Frustration swells inside me as my thoughts come flooding in—what Kate is to me, what she’s done for me. I know I’ve loved her for a long time. Even when she accosted me about a chicken five years ago, I knew I would love her. But the depth of that love was never this weighty. It was never so intricately woven within me that it would be impossible to extract it. My love for Kate isn’t something I can move on from. I can’t sit here and watch her ride off into the sunset with someone she met on some app. My chest squeezes at the thought—the thought of doing any part of my life without her.
I close my eyes and settle into the quiet of Dr. Ford’s office. Sometimes therapy is just this, me listening to the clock tick by until I talk. I’m grateful. Not that I can’t elaborate my feelings, I just don’t think they’re important all the time. Words carry too much weight, and if I don’t think through them clearly, they might not have a point, and I could end up drudging down a dead-end road.
My lips tingle as I inhale slowly, the taste of toothpaste and smell of lavender seeping their way into my brain for some reason. Where is that coming from? My head spins at a memory trying to break through, but it’s still too unclear to focus on. I hate when that happens. Instead of dwelling on what I can’t remember, I take another slow breath and focus on the things I can.
I am madly in love with Kate.
I miss Brennan.
These two things are weaved together in my brain. I don’t know why. Probably never will. But I do know that any sort of healing can be a long process, and I just need to accept that. But I don’t have to do it alone anymore. I can do it with Kate. I can share these things with her, and she can share her things with me.
“So, Kate is a safe haven for you?” Dr. Ford reiterates.
“Not just that.”
“Then tell me, Malcolm, what is she to you?”
“She’s everything.”