Page 75 of Four Letter Feelings

“Where do people come up with this stuff? I mean, who even decides what cool is?” he could hear her chuckling and imagined her shaking her head. “You want to catch me up on how you’ve been and what’s happened?”

For the next two hours, as he cooked, he put his therapist on speakerphone and busied about the kitchen finishing the dishes. He brought her up to date on his life and everything that had happened over the last few months, starting with the death of his parents and finishing with AJ’s suicide attempt. He went into painful detail, pausing only when she had a question, fearful that if he stopped to take a moment, he wouldn’t be able to get everything out. By the time the double therapy session was over, he felt exhausted, drained and hot from spending so much time in the kitchen but the counter was covered in an expansive array of delicious food. He felt lighter, too. Talking to Sheila had helped clear some things up in his mind. He’d booked in with her for next week and had given her his word that he’d at least commit to a once weekly session with her for the foreseeable future. She had confirmed to him that the process of grieving wasn’t in fact linear. That expecting to progress through the gauntlet of grief in any kind of systematic fashion would only lead to frustration and disappointment. She told him that life didn’t abide by any such framework of ‘stages’ and confirmed his fear that everyone, and everyone’s grief, is different, so recovery isn’t ever as simple as posting a flow chart on his refrigerator and ticking stages off as you go. Sheila emphasized how some people often experienced two ‘stages’ of grief at the same time, which sounded like what Jeremy had endured over the last few months with anger and depression, and that each person’s journey was unique to them. She impressed upon him numerous times how there was no shame in grieving, even for a long period of time, which was something Jeremy was certainly feeling, a pressure within himself to move forward.

When he asked her about acceptance and how he could ever be ‘ok’ with the loss of his parents she clarified to him that acceptance doesn’t mean he’ll be ok. She explained that this stage is about accepting the reality that his parents are physically gone, forever, and recognizing that his new reality is permanent. Talking to her had lifted some of the load he had been carrying. He felt as though telling her how lost and afraid he felt, while feeling foolish, had helped. She had soothed his inner chaos somewhat with the fact that he wasn’t alone and that what he had been going through was completely normal. Hearing it from an external source, a professional, made it sink in just a little bit more than reading it on the internet or hearing it from Chelsea.

“Ok, did you cook everything we had in the house?” AJ asked, wandering into the kitchen in only a pair of shorts. “This all smells incredible, Jer. Is it for us? 'Cause if it’s not for us, you’re gonna have a fight on your hands.” He picked up a burrito, unraveled a piece of the foil and sunk his teeth into the tortilla, moaning in satisfied approval.

“It’s for us. I made way more than I’d expected. I called Sheila and chatted to her while I cooked. Time went faster than I realized and cooking helped keep me focused and not a crying mess. Win-win I guess.”

“So,” AJ began, taking another bite of his breakfast burrito and looking like he’d gone to his happy place as he chewed and swallowed. “I feel like we need to talk. I know you’re pissed at me and you have every right to be, but I feel like we need to clear the air. You’ve been tip-toeing around me since The Incident and if we keep letting this,” he gestured between them with his burrito, “fester, we’re both going to explode.”

“I’m not pissed at you, man.” Jeremy answered as he grabbed himself a plate of mac and cheese and sat at the table. “I’m pissed at myself. I knew I wasn’t ok, but I shoved that shit down, ignored it and poured whisky on it. I picked fights for no reason and punched walls. Dude, that shit isn’t normal and I friggin’ knew it. I chalked it up to grief and convinced myself that it would all just go away by itself. I was sure that was the answer to my problems. I isolated myself, pulled back from all of you and when I realized that wasn’t working, I didn’t know how to make it stop.”

AJ grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured two glasses before returning the milk to the fridge and sitting across the table from Jeremy.

“And you,” he continued. “I don’t even know what to say to you. I feel pretty awful, man. I abandoned you and I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m ashamed to admit that I didn’t notice how far gone you were, either.”

“Wait—” AJ interrupted as he finished his burrito and poured himself a bowl of potato soup. “I can’t let you sit there and beat yourself up over not being there for me when I needed you when you saved my goddamn life, Jer.” He held a hand up to silence Jeremy’s protest. “No. You were. You were there when I needed you most, because I was dying. I did that. I took those pills, I wrote that damn note and I wanted it all to end. I wanted to stop feeling every little thing. I did that. But what you did, you… you saved my life, Jer. I can’t ever repay you for that. I feel bad you felt you needed to research how to act in case of an overdose, I really do, but I also feel grateful as shit that you did, man. You have every reason to be angry at me for what I did, hell, I’m angry at myself, but I’m going to try and work through it.”

Jeremy sighed. “I’m going to be honest with you, ok?” he looked AJ straight in his eyes as he swallowed some soup and nodded. “You’re right. I am angry at you. I know I shouldn’t be. I know your brain chemistry was off, I know now that you were off your meds. I know you were feeling hopeless and alone and I know you probably didn’t want to actually die so much as you wanted to stop feeling, but I’m mad. I’m mad that you were going to leave me.” He stopped talking and took a drink of milk in a bid to steady himself. “You are all I have left, man. You’re it. You’re the only family I got, and you were just going to leave me. So yeah, I feel a bit betrayed and abandoned. I get that it’s irrational. I get that it’s selfish and I’m going to have to work through it all with Sheila 'cause it’s probably not even connected to you and it’s probably because my mom made me eat vegetables when I was a kid or something, but I’m mad. I’m mad that you thought it was ok to leave me, even though I know you were probably not even thinking at all when you did it. How fucked up is that, man? How can I blame you for something you didn’t have the presence of mind to know any better about at the time?”

“Ok, first of all, thank you for getting that shit off your chest. I appreciate you levelling with me. Secondly, if something ever does happen to me, you’re not alone. You know my mom won’t allow that at all. You know it, I know it, in fact, she probably loves you more than she loves me at this point,” he joked with an eye roll. “Lastly, it’s not fucked up. Your feelings are valid and you need to acknowledge them and stop shoving them aside. Your therapist will help with that, I’m sure. I’m really sorry, Jer. I’m going to do all I can to make sure I don’t fall off the rails again, ok? I’m going to do better, I’m going to be better, and with any luck we’ll both live to be crotchety old men who live next door to each other with our families. You’ll feed both houses though,” he said, lifting a spoonful of soup in a toast. “'Cause this is delicious!”

***

Jeremy found the next few weeks tough. Trying to get back into a decent routine and pulling his grades up from ‘bare minimum’ was exhausting, but he felt as though he was finally getting traction on his life for the first time in months. His visits to Sheila were proving to be beneficial but exhausting. She was probing and pushing him, making him delve deep into his emotions and often left him feeling raw and exposed. But she was also helping him, he was feeling more and more stable as the weeks progressed.

Things around the house with AJ had become better, too, as they spent more time together and stopped avoiding each other. It was almost like old times. Jeremy did, however, occasionally find himself often staring at his friend wondering if he was as ok as he was leading the world to believe. He knew he had to work on trusting AJ to reach out when he was in crisis, but part of him still felt guilty for not being more present when AJ needed him, and missing the signs that he needed help.

They’d both been putting in the hard work over the past few weeks, they were both eating and sleeping better, they were training harder and playing better on the ice, and they were both paying more attention to their school work. Jeremy felt energized and focused, and while the gaping hole in his chest still ached every day, the pain was becoming less and less debilitating.

The bell announced his presence as he opened the door and stepped into the bookstore off the street. Adrianne glanced up from her computer screen and smiled as soon as she recognized him.

“Jeremy!” she exclaimed, jumping out of her chair and rushing around from behind the counter to greet him. Throwing her arms around him she gave him a squeeze. “How have you been? It’s been forever! You look good, are you good? I heard about…” she paused, unsure how to say it. He’d become accustomed to the awkwardness of people around the subject of his parents’ murders. She stared at him with the same sad, sympathetic eyes he’d also come to expect when people broached the subject.

He nodded. “My parents? Yeah…” He never really knew how to answer people when they trailed off like that and fought the urge to clam up and dismiss the entire conversation, every, single time.

“Are you doing ok?”

He shoved his hands into his back pockets and rocked back on his heels.

Awkward. It all feels so awkward.

“As ok as can be expected, I guess.” He shrugged for emphasis. He knew people didn’t mean anything negative by asking how he was doing. They were just trying to find a way to show him they cared, but his instinctive reaction was to ask how the hell they thought he was doing after having his parents taken from him by a crazed man with a gun.

He guessed she sensed it wasn’t his favorite topic, as she ushered him up to the counter. “What can I do for you today?” she asked. “I’m looking for a gift for… eh, someone. I saw on her Facebook that she likes someone called K.K. Allen. Do you have anything in here by her?”

“Facebook stalking her likes, eh?” she nudged him playfully and gave him a knowing look. “Must be serious, Jer. Oh, wow, are you blushing. This is precious!” She giggled, which only made his blushing intensify. “As a matter of fact, I have a few copies left of her new release, Through the Lens.”

“Have you read it?” he asked, taking the book from her.

She nodded excitedly. “I have, I loved it. Such a great enemies to lovers romance!”

Her voice sounded soft and hopeful and she had that doe-eyed-Disney look on her face that she’d had when he’d bought the book for Ana’s birthday so he decided to take the chance. The worst that could happen was Chelsea would hate it, or she’d already have it, in which case he’d get points for trying. He knew from her Facebook page that she was planning a weekend trip back to Alabama and he wanted to have it ready for her when she did. He was convinced he could finally get her to agree to a date with him and he wanted it to go perfectly when she did.

He had seen Jess a few times in passing. And while he could be wrong, he got the impression that she didn’t have time to deal with someone ‘broken’ right now, so she seemed to keep her distance from him, and despite missing the earth-shattering sex, he felt ok with that. He didn’t want to surround himself with friends he couldn’t count on, or be himself with. He knew what he was signing up to with her from the start and it didn’t involve complicated emotions like grief and depression. It was simply physical.

If the past few months had taught him anything, though, was that he really was ready to try for a relationship with someone. He’d been lonely. He’d slept with way too many random women and while it had been fun, he still found himself yearning for more, yearning for intimacy, yearning for that connection people talked about. The more he tried to put Chelsea out of his head and forget about her, the more she kept popping up in his mind. He’d taken the time to read her interests on her Facebook profile and had learned a lot about what types of food and music she liked. He’d talked to Sheila about how to ‘win her over’ and she had told him that it wasn’t quite as simple as all that and the one thing Chelsea probably needed more than anything, was patience. He didn’t want to rush her, and he didn’t want to spook her either but he was sure of one thing, that if the time ever came when she was ready to pursue the chemistry between them, he would be game.

He paid for the book, and as Adrianne checked him out and handed it to him, she paused for a minute. He tilted his head to the side and pulled his brows together in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“A Henry David Thoreau quote has just popped into my head. I read it in that book actually” she started, nodding at the book in his hand and clearly unsure whether she should be saying anything at all.

“What’s the quote?”

“Not until we are lost, do we begin to understand ourselves.”

---