Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Abby
I know that technically I should be prepared for this eventuality, but when the professor starts talking about childhood abandonment issues in class the next day, I forget all the hardening I’ve done on my heart.
“—and of course, outside of serious legal consequences, childhood abandonment can have many psychological consequences as well,” he’s saying.
I squirm in my seat, remembering the text from my father that morning and thinking to myself that things might have been so much simpler had he just kept on with the whole abandonment thing instead of barging back into my life.
“And this doesn’t strictly refer to actual abandonment,” the professor goes on. “When a child is emotionally neglected or ignored, it can lead to feelings of loneliness or insecurity, and sometimes really long-term psychological effects.”
My heart rate quickens, my breath coming a little shorter as I slink down further into my chair in the lecture hall. I feel sick with self-loathing; if I can’t even listen to these things, how on earth can I expect to help others with issues like these?
“People who come from situations of being abandoned as a child can grow up to have a serious mistrust of others,” the professor is still saying.
“Oftentimes, children that come from these situations grow into adults who are constantly finding reasons not to put their faith into those around them—too afraid that those people might abandon them much the same way that the prominent figure in their earlier life already did.”
I close my eyes and count to five, trying to calm my breathing.
I can’t remember the last time I felt like this; my hands are sweating, and my chest feels too tight, and I can’t help but feel like everyone’s eyes are on me, like somehow they know that the professor is talking about me specifically.
Which, I know he isn’t, I know that—but it doesn’t stop my heart from pounding.
Doesn’t stop my throat from feeling like it’s closing up just a little.
“Another common side effect of childhood abandonment can be a fear of letting go of relationships that aren’t exactly healthy for a patient,” my professor says.
“Sometimes patients will cling to toxic relationships out of the fear of being without them. As if any relationship is better than none at all.”
That one stings the most. Mostly because I know it’s true.
Here I am, clinging to this toxic thing with my dad out of some misguided reasoning that one day he’ll come around and be an actual dad—and it’s all laid out there in our textbooks, just how stupid that is.
It’s like everything I’ve been doing is right there on display, a shining beacon of my own idiocy.
And suddenly I can’t listen to it anymore.
I’ve never left a class early in my entire college career, but when I abruptly stand and give the professor a mumbled excuse about not feeling well, he thankfully gives me a brief nod and excuses me without pressing me on it.
I know I’ll have to ask to borrow someone’s notes—something that will be even more of a pain, since I don’t exactly have friends in this class—but that’s a problem for tomorrow me.
Right now I just need to get out of this fucking room.
I stomp down the halls at double speed until I’m bursting out the building doors, taking in thick lungfuls of fresh air as my heart continues to pound behind my ribs.
It’s strange that in that moment there’s only one voice I want to hear, even stranger that I don’t hear one that I’ve been fighting with for the last several months.
I dial his number with shaky hands, feeling only a little guilty knowing he most likely just got in from the airport.
“Abby?”
“Jack,” I breathe.
His voice immediately fills with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you come get me?”
“Tell me where you are.”
And he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask why, and in that moment, I couldn’t be more grateful.
I let him know where I’ll be waiting for him, and he doesn’t ask a single follow-up before promising that he’ll be there soon.
I slump down onto a nearby bench as I continue to try to collect air, realizing that it comes easier now. After talking to Jack, I finally feel like I can breathe a little.
That might freak me out if I weren’t already at a ten.
As it is, I just close my eyes as I rest against the bench, waiting for him to come pick me up and praying that my pulse decides to calm before my heart explodes.
Jack shows up less than a half hour later, slamming the driver’s side door to his car and stomping over to me with concern in his eyes before he crouches in front of me.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s stupid,” I tell him.
He reaches to brush the hair from my eyes. He looks good in his dark henley and his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, no doubt trying to be incognito.
“It’s not stupid,” he says. “You sounded really upset on the phone.”
“It was just class,” I sigh. “The topic today was childhood abandonment issues, and I just started feeling like shit the more I listened to the lecture. I got myself all worked up.”
Jack is quiet as he frowns up at me from the ground, his hand moving to cover mine. “That’s not stupid,” he repeats. “Of course that would upset you.”
“But this is the field I’m trying to go into,” I argue. “I can’t let this sort of thing get to me if I want to be able to help others with the same issues.”
“Give yourself a little credit,” he says. “You’ve been through more than most people. It doesn’t make you some sort of failure just because you had one bad reaction to one lecture. It just makes you human.”
I feel wetness at my eyes, and I reach to rub it away. “Now who sounds like the shrink?”
“You’re rubbing off on me,” he chuckles. And then he wiggles his eyebrows. “Sometimes literally.”
“There he is,” I laugh, oddly feeling better just from this short conversation.
He squeezes my hand. “Hey, how about we get out of here?”
“And go where?”
“I have a place in mind,” he tells me. “It’s a surprise.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Is this another attempt at a maybe-date?”
“Hey.” He presses a hand to his chest in faux outrage. “Does that sound like something your bed buddy would do?”
“Sort of,” I chuckle.
He raises two fingers. “Scout’s honor,” he tells me. “Friendly outing only.” He flashes me a grin then. “Besides, you did say you missed me.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you.”
“Not anytime soon, no.”
“Are you sure you have time?”
“We don’t have anything going on today,” he tells me. “I’ve got nothing until practice tomorrow. And since I’ve been spending most of my time obsessing over the upcoming second round…you’d be doing me a favor with the distraction.”
“Well, as long as it benefits you,” I say with a grin.
His answering smile makes my chest feel lighter. “That’s my girl.”
He says it casually, already helping me to my feet and obviously not meaning anything by it, but what it does to me is a little more weighted than that.
I know it’s not technically true; I’m not Jack’s girl in any real capacity, but I can’t pretend that my stomach doesn’t go off with a fluttering like rampant butterflies just the same when he says it.
Jack threads his fingers through mine, not giving a shit who sees us. It sort of worries me, because even though he’s keeping a low profile, there are still people who could point us out, and then where would we be? I can see the headlines now. Not to mention the shit Ian and Lila would give us.
I try to push it out of my mind, focusing on the warmth of his hand in mine instead.
When we’re both buckled into his car and I feel like I can breathe a little again, I finally turn to ask, “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” he tells me.
I frown. “I told you, I hate surprises.”
“Yeah,” Jack chuckles. “I know.” He grabs my hand again to thread his fingers through mine, and I sort of forget all about my dislike of surprises. “But this one will be worth it, maybe.”
Strangely enough, I believe him.
Stranger still…I might even be thrilled to go with him.
Not sure what to make of that.
“The aquarium?” I question as we stand in line. “Really?”
“Hell yeah,” he says. “I love this place.”
“Definitely not what I thought you meant when you said it was a surprise.”
Jack buys two tickets at the counter, ignoring my protests that I can buy my own.
“Didn’t want to have to drag you here kicking and screaming,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t have been that bad.”
“Are you kidding? This place screams date. I’m surprised you aren’t trying to sneak away.”
I don’t tell him that lately the idea of going on a date with him doesn’t make me as terrified as it did the first time he suggested it, mainly because that fact alone is terrifying in itself.
There’s no good reason for Jack and me to go on an actual date, because that’s not what this is between us, but still, I can’t pretend that every time he makes a joke about it lately, my heart doesn’t flutter in my chest.
Jack never lets go of my hand as he leads me inside the massive building, the entryway spilling out into a room with floor-to-ceiling tanks filled with hundreds of colorful fish swirling about.
The lighting is lower in here, the water casting reflections on our skin in a way that is almost romantic.
Jack was definitely right; this place does scream “date.”
“So why the aquarium?”
Jack tugs me over to a massive tank in the wall where the lights are shut off to highlight the bioluminescent jellyfish. “My dad took me here when I was a kid,” he tells me. “Just a few weeks before he died.”
I feel my heart drop into my stomach. “Oh, Jack.”
“Don’t,” he says with a shake of his head, not unkindly. “It’s okay. We saw Finding Nemo in theaters a few weeks before that, and I was obsessed with that movie. Begged my parents to take me here so I could see Dory and Nemo and Marlin.”