Page 102 of Rebound
With a smile, I say, “I’ve known you a long time.”
He huffs and lies down beside me. I turn onto my side and his hand automatically finds my bump. I stare at his profile, as he looks up at the ceiling, tracing and committing the perfection that is the man I love to memory.
“What does your depression feel like?”
He curses and glances at me. Then closes his eyes and speaks. “Like I have no control over what’s happening. I had an episode in Delhi and had to peel all my clothes off. The harder I ignore it, the more intense it is when I crash. It’s like a wave—building slowly and rising with enough time to escape. But when it meets land, it’s loud and painful.”
I press a hand to his bare chest. “Why fight it?”
“If I let it win every time, I can’t do anything. I can’t eat or sleep or be present. And in my line of work, I can’t check out.”
“What about medication?”
He nods, putting his hand over mine. “Tried it for a year, but the side effects made it worse. So I stopped taking them and my therapist has been finding ways to help me cope.”
Patrick’s eyes are closed and his words aren’t coming out in rushed breaths, but he’s still not calm. His heart races and pounds against my fingers and I refuse to pull away.
“How can I help, Trick?”
“This…” he finally looks at me and smiles sadly. “Being with you helps. Dominic and I think hockey might be a trigger. For a long time, my crash happened before or after a big sporting event. Recently it’s been a lot more random, so we’re looking at other triggers.”
“Oh, honey.”
A laugh bursts out of him, sarcastic and stilted. “The one thing I’ve loved as long as you is the thing that probably fucks with my head.”
My heart clenches at his admission. “Is this why you want to retire?”
“Partly. Mental health isn’t a one size fits all kind of thing and I wish it was easy to identify the problem. But it’s taken us a decade to get to this point. I don’t want to crash during a game, you know?”
I scoot forward and press a kiss to his shoulder. The importance of hockey in Patrick’s life isn’t lost on me. It’s not just a sport, it’s part of his life. It’s everything to him. To have that be the reason for something so debilitating has to be terrifying. And knowing he might have to give it up in order to live is sad. His breath rattles in his chest and I slide my arm around his broad form as much as I can and we lay like that for a long time. I know no matter what happens, what choices Patrick makes with his career, I’m not going anywhere.
His athletic ability isn’t why I fell in love with him. That was only a part of the boy I met at camp. I fell in love with the big-hearted boy with the bright smile. And because, on a really bad day at camp, he looked into my eyes and told me like the lotus flower, I crawl through the dark and murky parts of life to brighten the world.
Thirty-Six. Sacrifice
Patrick
The joy on my therapist’s face is one I’ve never seen before. I know why he’s happy—I finally showed up for an in-person session. After years of doing them over video and the odd phone call, being here to look him in the eyes is an experience I didn’t realise I missed. We talked about this soon after I moved to Chennai, but I never actually imagined I would find the time. Between all the work happening at the school, training with the Thunder and being available for Tamara, my schedule is a little tight. We’ve done sessions, obviously, but they’ve been short and usually while I’m on the move or somewhere other than the flat.
Now I’m here, sitting on his incredibly uncomfortable couch. I shift and grunt when it becomes a bit of a process to relax. Dominic’s smile fades and he tilts his head as I adjust myself.
“You done?”
“Do people actually enjoy sitting on this?”
“It’s not meant to be comfortable.” I arch an eyebrow and he adds, “It’s a tactic to make people talk when they’re not able to sit still.”
I chuckle and force myself to settle, then stretch my legs out. Like I’m totally fine, when the truth is it itches under my skin. My mood is the same before every session—sombre—but today there’s something else poking at my nerves. I know it’s the oncoming meltdown and I want to catch it before it spirals. At the same time, I don’t want to ignore the way it really makes me feel. I might have been avoiding letting Tamara see me this way, but I know she needs to know. She needs to understand how I completely shatter when I push myself too far.
“I’m honoured you took the time and effort to see me,” Dominic starts and I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t want to hear you whine about it again.”
He laughs and matches my posture, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. “So, what are we talking about today?”
“How to be comfortable letting her see me at my weakest.”
“What makes you uncomfortable about it?”
