12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Lennox
I got exactly two hours of sleep last night.
Roxie getting a real look at how fucked up my life is right now rattled my brain too much. My thoughts ping pong between embarrassment and resignation.
Maybe I’ll never be able to get over what happened with Tennison, and I need to accept that this is my new normal. If the look on Roxie’s face is anything to go by, I’m worse off than I realize. It’s terrifying.
A knock at my door has a sense of déjà vu running through me.
“I just got back from dropping off Ivy and am ready to start our session whenever you are. No rush.” Her muffled voice doesn’t convey anything other than professionalism.
“I’ll be out in a second.” My gravelly voice barely has volume, but I hear her walk away, letting me know she heard me.
It takes me longer than I want to admit to get up and running for the day. My usual uniform of basketball shorts and a long-sleeve shirt are in place before I hobble on my crutches to the living room. At least I’m getting better with the damn crutches.
Roxie is sitting on the couch with a book in her hand, legs curled up underneath her, and I see a flash of what could be. What my life could look like if I wasn’t so fucked up. But being delusional never solved any problems. And Roxie sure as hell isn’t mine.
“Hey, you ready?”
Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I nod, heading to the dining room. I’ve come to learn the dining room chairs are preferrable to the couch while getting worked on. They have more support, with the perfect height for my long legs.
“Okay, so today, we’re adding to what we’ve been doing. You’re making great progress, and I want to add some flexion. I’m wanting to add ten degrees every week, but we’ll see how it goes. We’re going to start some weight-bearing too. My goal is complete weight-bearing and bending at a ninety-degree angle in the next four to five weeks, okay?”
Nodding, I brace myself on the chair as she starts to work.
Ten minutes in, my teeth are gritted, and I’m struggling to keep my composure.
“Still okay? It isn’t supposed to be comfortable, but I don’t want you in a ton of pain either,” Roxie says.
“Yep,” I push through. In truth, I’m not sure how much more I can take. Sharp pain radiates from my quad, making my entire leg ache. Every muscle in my core is being worked harder than they have since the incident, and I’m starting to feel those too. Everything is clenched so tight, I may pop, given enough time like this.
She finishes helping me bend my knee before she sits back with a smile on her face. “That’s great progress. I know it sucks, but you’re doing great. Next, I’m going to massage some of the scar tissue.”
She’s too peppy, too bright when all I feel is miserable right now. I’m thankful she’s helping with the worst of the scars on my bad leg, but what she doesn’t know is they are probably the lightest of my scars. My torso and arms are worse, and it’s the sole reason I wear a long-sleeve shirt at all times. I realized she was going to have to see my leg for PT, so I gave up trying to hide those, but everywhere else will continue to stay hidden. I’ll feel splayed open all over again if she gets a look.
She digs in without preamble, and my entire body tenses again. I thought I had gotten used to these evil massages, but this one feels so much worse than usual. When I grunt as her fingers dig into a particularly sensitive area, she pauses and looks up.
“I’m good,” I barely get out.
She continues her torture, and I last five more minutes before I’m at my limit.
“I need to stop.” Weak. Pathetic.
“Okay, we’ll take a break.” She sits back on her heels, pulling her tablet from the table and documenting how fucking useless I am, probably.
Failure. The word is on repeat in my head. I can’t shake it.
Taking a deep breath, I focus on finishing out the session no matter what it takes.
“Okay, I’m good.” I look anywhere but at her, trying to think about animals in the woods so I stay distracted and focus less on the pain.
I last ten more minutes before I’m ready to jump out of my skin.
“I’m done,” I grunt, shifting my leg out of her grip.
She immediately drops her hands and stands up. “Okay, we can take another break,” she says gently.
“No. No more breaks. I’m done.” I can’t hide the anger and pain in my voice, and it makes me panic. I struggle to reach for my crutches and lock my brace back up. Roxie rushes to help me, but I recoil.
“Let me do it,” I lash out, taking all of my anger at myself out on her. I’m panting with exertion, with the pain that’s overwhelming my body.
She stands abruptly, shock all over her face.
Grunting and shifting, I finally reach my crutches, getting them under my arms before standing up and booking it to my room. It’s probably comical if you’re looking from the outside in because I know my version of booking it is slow as molasses right now.
I slam my bedroom door once I’m there and almost trip over some clothes on the floor. Collapsing on my bed, I reel at the pain and the vulnerability I’m feeling. I’m not sure what was different about today’s session, but it was so painful I could barely breathe.
I lie there trying to catch my breath, but by the time I feel more regulated, the backs of my eyes burn. I dig the heel of my hands into them, willing the tears to stay put. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, but it seems, at every turn, I keep falling back into the pit of depression in some way. And now the worst voice speaks in my thoughts:
You’re alone out here because no one loves you.
You think your siblings don’t resent you? You’re the reason your parents are dead.
Tennison’s haunting words echo in my head, causing me dry heave over the side of my bed. I’ve been actively blocking out his voice for the last few weeks, but it’s like he’s forcing himself into my brain.
“FUUCCKKKKK!” I scream, not even thinking about Roxie being in the house still. Pulling at my overgrown hair, I gasp for air, shoving all memories of that fateful day deep down into the recesses of my mind. Nothing’s working, though. The memories pop up, unrelenting in their mockery.
“Please let me come in,” Roxie implores, sounding pained through the door.
“No,” I whimper. She’s already seen too much .
“Lennox, please,” her pleading twists my insides in knots.
“Just leave, Rox.” I barely get the words out through the panic at the thought of her seeing me like this. Saving face is all that matters right now. I’m grateful Ivy isn’t in the house too.
What sounds like her hand sliding down the door makes me hold my breath, and when I hear her footsteps walking away, relief hits my chest.
Then the exhaustion comes. I’m used to this cycle, but it doesn’t make it any easier on my body. I end up falling asleep to echoes of Tennison’s words, a few hours full of fitful sleep that does little to help my mood.
I wake up to the sound of giggling. Confusion swirls in my head.
No one who would be in my house would be giggling, and then it hits me like lightning: Roxie and Ivy. For a minute, I forgot about everything that’s happened in the last week. How they now live in my cabin.
I run a hand over my face, trying to come to terms with what happened earlier. I owe Roxie one hell of an apology, but I don’t even know where to start. Sorry I’m so fucked up that I bottle up all the pain and then break? Sorry this isn’t the first nor the last time this will happen? Sorry I’m a lost cause and can’t even begin to claw my way out of this?
What a mess I am. Maybe giving up is the best option.
“Ivy, no. Not tonight. You can ask him another time, okay?” I hear Roxie’s voice getting louder, closer .
“But I want him to read my story to me! The one where her friends make her happy. It could help him.” Her little voice is so innocent and genuine that it breaks my heart.
The fact that she wants to read a story with me just to cheer me up brings tears to my eyes, and I have to cover my mouth to stop the sob that wants to bubble out.
Knock. Knock.
“Ivy. Not tonight,” Roxie whispers harshly.
“Lennis? Mr. Hutton? Would you like to read a story with me?” Ivy asks anyway.
I clear my throat in an attempt to shove down the emotions. “Give me a minute, Ivy, and I’ll come read with you,” I say then hold my breath. I have no idea what I’m thinking. I’m the worst thing for that little girl, but her optimism and hope are infectious.
I want to be happier. I want this story, this one moment in time with Ivy, to be the thing that clicks and starts the upturn I’m so desperate for. I may never have a chance to be a father, but fuck does this little ball of sunshine make me wish I could.
“Go wait in your room, Ives.” Roxie pauses for a second before her voice gets louder. “You don’t have to read with her. I promise she’ll be okay if you don’t. Just… Please let me know if you need anything.”
I clamber out of bed and grab my crutches, instantly feeling the soreness from our earlier PT session. Cracking the door, I see Roxie looking at me with worry. No, not worry—apprehension. It fucking kills me that the easiness that was building between us has disappeared so quickly.
“I’d like to read with her if that’s okay.” I’m not even sure if Roxie wants me around her daughter after the events of the day. I wouldn’t blame her if she told me no .
When she bites her lip, I can see every possible option show on her face. It makes me admire her more, that she’s putting her daughter first while also trying to help me to the fullest. She’s not dismissing me, and honestly, it makes me feel … worthy. If I were in a better headspace, I might also dwell on that lip she’s biting, but I’m in no position to even think that way right now. Not only does my body hurt, but the emotional toll of the day and Tennison’s words are the only thing filling my head up.
“You can read with her, but if you need to leave, take a break or whatever. I’ll be right there, okay?”
“Thank you,” I murmur. It’s the only thing I can say without my fucking eyes leaking again.
We walk side by side down to the other hallway, where I find Ivy wrapped in a dozen blankets with just her head peeking out.
“So, what are we reading?” I feel Roxie sneak away, but she returns as Ivy tells me where the book she wants to read is. I find it easily and am grateful when I turn around and find Roxie with a dining room chair in her hand. I bow my head to her, wordlessly thanking her for being so thoughtful, before taking a seat.
“I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty at this. Am I reading the whole thing, or are you reading it to me?” I ask the sweet little girl who looks so much like her mother.
“I can’t read yet, silly. I’m trying, though. Mommy and I do the short books when I get home from school evewyday.”
I smile at her fierceness. “I will read, then.” I carefully open the book and start reading the first page when she stops me.
“I like when Mommy does voices. Can you do voices?”
“Umm, sure.” I clear my throat and attempt a voice for each character.
By halfway, Ivy is a mess of giggles.
By the end, I have a smile on my face, the first genuine one I’ve felt in far too long.
“Thank you for letting me read with you, Ivy,” I tell her quietly as her eyes start to droop. I stand up, maneuvering myself to her bookshelf to put the book back where it came from, and head out the door.
Lingering in the hallway, I hear whispers of good night before Roxie joins me with the chair she brought in.
“She really enjoyed that, thank you,” she tells me as we make our way to the living room.
“No need to thank me. I got way more out of that than she did.” And that’s the truth. Her childlike wonder and sheer happiness make my mind wander to things I haven’t considered in far too long. All thoughts of Tennison have quieted down, replaced with the echoes of giggles.
“Well, I’m going to head to bed soon, but if you need anything, call me or text me so you don’t have to stand up.”
I concede and make my way to my room. Once I’m behind the closed door, I take a hard look at the evidence of what my life has become in the past few months. I may not be super mobile yet, but starting small feels like the best approach for me right now anyway. Living in my own filth is just surrounding me in depression longer.
Hobbling over to my trashcan, I set it in the middle of my room and start cleaning up the trash that’s taken over too much square footage of my room.
Once I’m done, I sit on my bed, more exhausted but determined.
Step one of moving forward starts now.
This is a terrible idea.
Ridiculous.
Reckless.
Exhaustion is so high right now, yet I can’t fall asleep. I’ve tried everything, but my mind won’t shut down.
It’s how I find myself outside Roxie’s room.
Raising my hand up, I knock just loud enough for her to hear if she’s still up. I tell myself I’ll count to five. If she doesn’t come to the door when I hit five, I’ll go back to my room and stare at the ceiling until the sun comes up.
One.
Two.
Three—
“Lennox?” The worry in her voice makes me feel worse.
“Umm.” I stumble on my words. I may have thought about doing this, but I sure as hell didn’t think about the logistics of it actually happening.
“What do you need?” She scans my body like she’ll find a bone sticking out, but nope. That’s just my soul, crushed into a pit, begging to find a way back to life.
“I can’t sleep,” I grit out. The pressure in the back of my eyes tells me I’m dangerously close to losing it again. “I thought…” Fuck. What did I think?
“How can I help?” No hesitation. It breaks my hesitation .
“Can I just … sit in your room? I can’t be alone right now. My thoughts—they’re too much.” My chest starts to tighten. Waiting to see if she turns me down spikes my panic.
“Of course.” She opens the door to let me in without pause.
Using my crutches, I clumsily enter and very quickly realize there isn’t a separate place to sit. There is only a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand.
You’re a fucking idiot.
“There’s no chair, but you can lie down. I’ll grab a pillow to elevate your leg, and we can…” She looks around and spots the decorative pillows that Willow put on this bed at some point. “Make a pillow wall!” She turns to me triumphantly.
My lip twitches, wanting to smile, but I’m so far from a place mentally to make it happen. “You can get under the covers, and I can stay on top,” I offer. My arms start to shake with the strain of holding myself up.
It’s like an out-of-body experience. I watch her help me into bed, making sure I’m situated, before she walks around to the other side and climbs in under the covers.
My body relaxes for the first time all day, and my brain quiets.
Fatigue hits me hard, and before I can say another word, I fall blissfully asleep.