Page 43 of Deep Down
Work had been piling up. He had been able to get some done while he was at his parents, but he was getting more and more enquiries. It had been a struggle for him when they had first come in via email because Darren had been the one to organise his schedule. With that in mind, Craig accessed the scheduling program Darren had used and got reacquainted with it. He had a list of people he needed to get back to about when he would be able to do the work for them, and now he could see his diary, it was easier to figure it all out.
Craig placed a hand on his stomach as it rumbled loud enough to interrupt his concentration. He glanced at the clock on the computer, raising his eyebrows when he saw three hours had passed. Entering the final confirmed client into the scheduling document and automatically logging the time he finished working, the air became trapped in his lungs when he saw he had not signed on. How would he know how long he’d been working for? Darren would—
Craig froze. Amanda’s voice reminded him to calm down.
“If you panic, you need to remember to breathe. Count your breath in for four beats, out for six beats. In for four beats, out for six beats. Once you have control of your breathing, your mind will calm, allowing you to think rationally.”
He closed his eyes, following her instructions, letting air to seep back into his lungs. His thoughts became clearer, allowing him to finally escape from his past. One final breath and Craig stood, reaching his arms to the sky and bending left to right, his back realigning with several clicks.
He exited the office and strode to the kitchen. His mother had emptied the fridge before he had gone to stay with them, and she’d sent him home with grocery supplies. Craig consciously made a large tuna salad for his lunch, enjoying the solitude, at least until his phone chimed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he sighed, placed the phone on the counter and added some more vegetables to the already large quantity.
A knock had him trudging to the door and opening it without checking who it was. He immediately swerved back to the kitchen, knowing his guest would follow.
“No, ‘hello, how are you today?’” Aaron’s tone betrayed the smile on his face.
Craig smirked and shook his head. “I forgot how annoying you could be.”
“I aim to please.” Aaron was quiet enough that Craig glanced over at him.
“Where’s Rhea and Harley?” Craig enquired about Aaron’s wife and daughter, who were usually glued to his side.
Aaron smiled. “They’ve gone shopping.”
Craig snorted. “Why am I not surprised you figured out an excuse to not go with them.” He picked up a salad-filled plate and passed it to Aaron. Clutching his own, he pivoted, pausing and swallowing hard at the lump in his throat when Darren’s empty seat mocked him. He clenched his jaw to withhold a whimper.
Aaron paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as his gaze locked on Craig. “Everything okay?”
Craig licked his lips and swallowed before trailing to the table. He set his plate down, took another breath, and sat, eyelids flickering. Fidgeting to get comfortable, he finally picked up the knife and fork and grazed on his food, his appetite had diminished with the strain of overcoming yet another unnecessary habit.
“Craig?” He focused on Aaron’s voice. “Are you alright?”
Craig nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Aaron frowned for a second, nodded and spoke about the latest trouble his three-year-old had been in, followed by his progress on his daughter’s namesake—his own Harley Davidson motorcycle he was restoring.
Lying in bed that night, Craig reviewed the positives and negatives of the day. Several times, he had succumbed to the habits instilled in him by Darren, and several times, he had overcome them. Tomorrow was another day.
Aaron had stayed for over two hours before receiving a call from his wife, asking him to pick them up. Craig had had a moment of panic when he understood how long a break he had taken but calmed. Yet again, Amanda’s voice reminded him it would take time for behaviours to be unlearned.
Overall, Craig was pleased with his progress.
As was Amanda when he met with her the following week.
Flipping through his homework, she smiled. “You’ve done an amazing job, Craig. By completing this diary—which I will need you to continue to do—we will be able to see what your triggers are. And by identifying them, we can create a way to overcome them.” She pointed into his notebook. “For example, you wrote here that your alarm went off at four o’clock, and you stopped working to make dinner. The alarm on your phone, who put it there?” Amanda studied him.
Craig frowned, trying to remember when it had been set up. He rubbed two fingers across his mouth and shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s difficult to remember a time when it wasn’t there.”
“Alright. Do you need to finish work at four o’clock every day?”
Craig worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “I don’t think so.”
“Therefore, you could work longer, or shorter, if you wanted to?”
Craig nodded slowly. “Yes.” His voice sounded shaky and quiet.
“Your homework this week is to continue with your diary, write down your achievements, but also to figure out the best time for you to end work in an evening. If you want to, leave the alarm on your phone at four o’clock, then when it sounds, check your body’s response. Ask yourself, am I hungry? If you are, go and make dinner. If you’re not, reset the alarm for another half an hour. And repeat. Over the next week, you may find a better time for you to finish working.”
Craig’s gaze flittered over the far side of the room as he considered what Amanda had set him. “I can eat when I want to eat.” He frowned, repeating the words in his head.
