You Found Me Page 6

  Some of them knew about Mom, some of them didn't. Things spread around in spells. Some days things said at the front door were completely changed by the time it reached the back office. Why? Not for me to say.

  “Are you okay, Rob?” she asked. She was one of my usuals (and a good tipper at that). I smiled and tried to be polite, but it wasn't really working.

  “Yeah, I'm okay.”

  “What's wrong?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary.” She stared at me for a moment. I humored her sincerity and told her. I'm pretty sure she came close to crying. It was sad, I'll admit that. I'd cried, but that was to be expected. I was amazed someone I barely knew, someone who saw me only once or twice a day, was moved to tears over something like that. Something that wasn't even part of her life.

  I made her drink and thanked her for talking to me. She said she would pray for me. Pray for me. What good was that going to do? She was already dead and my life was already falling apart. There was no need for prayer. I was beyond prayer.

  I'd been cutting myself for almost five days. The pain was overwhelming, but it was also more than the pain from inside. The pain from Mom. I was stuck wearing long sleeved shirts to avoid having any questions raised. Not that I would care. Not right now, anyway.

  I knew my shrink dude would care. I had an appointment with him that I didn't really wanna keep, but I knew my Dad would be checking to make sure I went. Basically, I was going to these appointments to say I was going. It was hard getting him to understand anything I was going through. He was supposed to be helping me get through all of this, but it just wasn't working. I felt even worse when I left his office than I did when I got there. I'm not the smartest person, but even I know progress is supposed to be made.

  I tried to keep my composure until I left, though I wasn't doing very good. I tried to put on the smile that said “everything in my life is going great, just like I planned it out”, but that wasn't working either. I didn't know what to think, feel or do. I was just there, existing in a time and place that wasn't real. I knew she was gone, don't misunderstand me, but for some reason it was taking so much of me to go about my daily life.

  I swept the café, stocked the drinks, arranged books, and made coffee, all the while wondering what I was going to say to Dr. O'Nassis when I saw him later. I'd thought about skipping, which is what I always thought of, but for some reason I just kept going and seeing him. He was driving me nuts, but I guess that was part of the game somehow. When my shift ended, I took my till to the back and counted it down.

  “How was today?” Hal, one of my managers, asked.

  “It was okay,” I shrugged. “We did a decent amount of business, but I don't think it was a record breaking day.” He nodded. “Times are getting tough,” he said. “Not much we can do about it, that's for sure.”

  I signed off all my paper work, basically showing I'd been there and performed each transaction. “I'll be back tomorrow,” I said and made my way for the door.

  I took my apron off, left it in the café, and walked to my truck. It wasn't really hot this time of year. Between April and May, it didn't heat up a whole lot. Once June arrived, it was “Hell-meets- the-South” from then on. The air conditioning on my truck had stopped working, so it was on my to-do list. It took its time starting up, which is something I liked and hated about it. I could use it as an excuse for being late, but when I wanted to be somewhere it got annoying.

  I made my way through traffic towards the office. My arms were still sore, but it was helping somehow. I didn't feel as much pain from Mom's death as I did from the cuts. I had to be careful not to cut so much that I'd bleed to death, but enough where I felt it.

  School was starting to let out for break. Buses would stop running their routes in about three weeks, traffic lights warning you to slow down for school zones would stop flashing, and more kids would come into the café. Life suddenly became so depressing, much more than it had been.

  I pulled into the smallish parking lot and parked. Why was I going to these stupid meetings? I could survive without this moron. At least, maybe I could. I couldn't really make heads or tails of anything at the moment. My head was hurting. I rubbed my wrist. My long sleeve shirt was covering up the scars decently, but it didn't cover up the pain. Nothing could cover up the pain.

  I walked in and smiled at the receptionist. She went in the back to get Dr. O'Nassis. There was no one else there, which wasn't unusual. Most people didn't come in until after I left. It had something to do with my schedule at work and school. I don't know. I just do what I'm supposed to.

  He welcomed me in and closed the door. Nothing much had changed about the office, maybe a little cleaner since my last visit, but that was a big maybe. Everything there was cluttered, as if he didn't have enough time or energy to put things away. It annoyed me, to be honest.

  Now, that being said, I'm not OCD. My mother had been, which made cleaning the house a difficult chore. We'd spend all day cleaning and cleaning, only to miss the smallest spot and her find it. I guess some of that rubbed off on me. I washed my hands after every cup of coffee I serve, which annoys some and encourages others. We've gone through a lot more paper towels since I started there (all of it my fault, of course).

  “How's it goin', Rob?” I shrugged.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, my mother did just die. I'm not exactly doing great.”

  “Has it affected anything?”

  “What?”

  “Her death. Has it messed anything up in anyway?” I shrugged and looked around the room. He'd added some weird posters, but I couldn't make heads or tails of the pictures.

  “That's E. E. Cummings,” he said, referring to the picture I was looking at. “He's not known for his paintings, but that's one of my favorites. Replica, of course. The real ones cost money. How's work been?”

  “It's been okay. Everyone is being nice about Momma and everything.”

  “That's good. How many of them have you talked to?”

  “Talked to? Talked to about what?”

  “Her death and what all you're going through.” I thought for a minute. None. I honestly could say “none”, so I did.

  “Okay.” He paused. “Have you expressed your feelings about this to anyone?”

  “Feelings about what?” I was playing stupid. I knew what he was talking about, I just didn't wanna answer. He knew this and gave me this really strange look. “No...No I haven't.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause it's not important!” I'd become agitated with him.

  “It's 'not important'?”

  “What are you, a parrot? No, it's not important.”

  “Robert, you're mother died. That's pretty important.”

  “Look, it doesn't matter though. They don't care what's going on in my life.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because they just don't. I wouldn't care if anything like that was going on with them.”

  “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Why?” I regretted it the moment I said it. My stomach was in knots just like before...when I yelled at Mom.

  “Because you have a big heart. I've spoken to your Dad, Mrs. Madison, and others who know you. All of them see a lot of love in you. You enjoy people, learning their stories and what has made them who they are now. I couldn't see you not caring about something like this.” I was quiet. It was true, all of it. If one of my friends had lost their Mom, I'd've been there immediately, not caring for a moment what was going on. My friends had tried, I know they had, but it wasn't the same. It just wasn't the same.

  “Heard you canceled your date,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “That's right.”

  “Why'd you do it?”

  “I'm just not ready to date.”

  “Why's that?”

  “Look at me, Doc. Do I look like I need to be dating? I could fly off the handle with the next person that rubs
me the wrong way, something I've done in my wildest dreams. I couldn't let that happen to a girl. I'd hate myself for the rest of my life.”

  “I'm going to be frank with you, Rob. If you already hate yourself over what happened with your mother, how would something like that make you feel any worse?” I hadn't really thought of it that way.

  “Touché.”

  “Here's what I want you to do. I want you to go on a date by next week. Nothing too big, not asking for marriage, two kids, white picket fence or anything like that. Just a date. Agree to meet at the same place, same time, preferably the same table, you know the drill.” I agreed and it was “see you next week” for us.

  I left there pretty shook up. I didn't wanna date, I wasn't ready for that. All the rejection, hurting, pain, sorrow, and everything else that comes with the word “relationship.” My mind was in a frantic state. I'm sure he didn't realize it, but Dr. O'Nassis was asking a lot of me. I wasn't one of those who had a girl lined up every day, banging down the doors to get to me. I had friends, girls who were friends, and just that. It didn't really bother me anymore, something I'd finally come to terms with.

  My iPod was playing random music right now. I usually turned to it for comfort, but at the moment I couldn't think of anything it could do to help. Most of my music had lost its swagger and became background noise like everything else in my life.

  I turned onto I-65 from I-565 and headed home. I was trying to think of a girl I could go out with, someone who wouldn't get too excited and read way too much into it. The only people like that were my friends. Maybe he would let that slide. I mean, he didn't say it had to be a first date with someone I didn't know, just a date. I could probably get one of my “exs” to go with me (I say that lightly though, considering all my exs and I are still friends).

  I sat at the overpass light, watched it change, and turned to head home. It wasn't really dark yet. Dad was still in town. He taught a class part time twice a week (a million years ago he'd gotten a degree in history, then he took a “real” job, as Mom always put it), so I would have the house to myself for most of the evening. That wasn't anything unusual, even before what happened. Mom would meet up with clients or something, then her and Dad would meet up for a “date.” I was rarely home anyway, but if I was I was usually alone.

  I turned onto my road and watched for my house. It was dark, quiet, and rather depressing in its appearance. I now parked in Dad's old parking space and he in Mom's. We were trying to move on, but it wasn't easy.

  No one had called. The home phone had been used less and less. We thought of getting rid of it and just using our cellphones. I got online and checked emails and Facebook. My usual spam emails and the simple “havent seen you in a while. Hope youre doing okay” from friends on Facebook. (I've noticed no one uses punctuation anymore.)

  My head still hurt. I couldn't get my thoughts organized. The session today had been the first time we'd ever really dealt with something close to home so bluntly. We'd talked about Mom, the funeral, and other things. I told him about my arguments with my folks about school, but that was the closest we'd come.

  I moved clothes from the washer to the dryer, started some more wash and went upstairs to my room. I was simply trying to find something to do. I opened the bathroom cabinet and looked at my razor blades. I'd gone through so many it looked like I was really being careful with my beard. I thought about cutting small, just enough to break the skin and hurt. Not too much, though. Enough. I was hurting so much over everything: Dr. O'Nassis, school, Dad, Mom, girlfriends, friends, the guys, grades, rain, sunshine, pain, lack of pain, everything. Nothing was making it better. Why couldn't it get better?

  I could see myself cutting deeper and deeper. So soothing. So wonderful. Why not just do it? I thought, but couldn't bring myself to do it. The pain would be too much. Or maybe it wouldn't be enough. No, it wouldn't be enough. I really need something that will help. Something I trusted.

  I closed the cabinet and stripped down, adding more and more clothes to the dirty clothes hamper. I got in the shower. The hot water never let me down. It always burned enough to hurt, but enough to feel good. The pain was unbelievably wonderful, the best kind there is. The kind of pain that takes away the pain. It was a brilliant idea; it didn't surprise me people did it all the time.

  I smiled at the feeling of pain. It was wonderful against my skin. My aching, aching skin. I wasn't really trying to clean myself, just trying to relieve myself from the day I'd had. One of the hardest since the day it all began. I didn't wanna date anyone, not right now. I wasn't ready. My life was in a million little pieces and my doc wants me to shack up with someone. It was crazy, and I know crazy. My heart was pounding, I could feel it. I couldn't tell if it was going to erupt inside of me or simply stop. I was hoping more for the latter to be honest.

  The water turned cold. I turned the knob farther left. The water heated somewhat, but not as much as I wanted. As I needed. I needed to feel the skin melting off of me. I needed to physically feel what I felt emotionally. I needed it so much it was almost impossible to understand. I needed so much and didn't want any of it. I wanted my mother back...

  Wait. What was I thinking? I didn't want her back. She was the one holding me back; the one who caused all of this in the first place. She was just another obstacle I would have had to overcome. And I did. That's right, I did.

  The water was ice now and felt tingly on my scorched skin. I turned the water off and stood there shivering. I just stood there. My heart was slowing down, my thoughts racing faster than I'd expected. What was I gonna do? Here I am, burning myself to fix whatever it was that was bothering me and it wasn't fixing it. It wasn't fixing anything. What was I gonna do? My eyes were closed...and I saw Mom.

  Mom was there, smiling like she always did. Just like she always did. I could feel a tear forming. No, I told myself, she's not worth it. Stop it, Rob, stop it! And I did. I got out of the shower and carefully dried myself. It was hard with my skin the way it was, but I managed as best I could. I threw the towel in the dirty clothes and walked to my room. I closed my eyes when I got there and felt the pain all over again. I smiled sadly.

  Chapter Ten

  They were sitting in a restaurant. Rob sat next to Mom with Dad on the other side. Dad was left-handed, which made things hard for two right handers. But that suited them just fine. His parents usually played footsy under the table anyway. One could always tell when someone hit too hard because one of them would “OW!” really loudly. Rob hated this. It embarrassed him a lot.

  He'd just turned sixteen. He hadn't gotten the truck yet; that was for tomorrow, but he was getting dinner tonight. He was excited.

  Rob wasn't a spoiled child, not by any means. His parents were careful when it came to raising him, making sure he knew there was more to life than money, though money did have its place in the world. He had a savings account, which he was required to put money in a least once a month. It wasn't a lot, since he didn't make a lot of money, but it was “the principle of the matter.”

  “Hello, my name is Kaila, I'm going to be your server.” Kaila (pronounced “K-EYE-LA”, as she made a point of saying) was pretty. She had black hair, tied into a bun to keep from getting everywhere, was fairly tall, and had a nice smile.

  “Oh, Robert, she's cute,” his mother chimed in. “Are you single?” Robert rolled his eyes. She did this all the time, never missing an opportunity.

  “No.”

  “Married?”

  “Unfortunately no,” the server laughed.

  “See?” his mother said, turning to Rob. “She's not attached yet.” She turned back to Kaila. “Today's his birthday.”

  “Oh really? We have fun here when it's someone's birthday. How old are you?”

  “16.” Kaila smiled.

  “Sorry, too young for me.” She winked at him. “What can I get you guys?” Everyone ordered sweet tea, then picked up the menus. She went to get the drinks while they wrestled over what they would order.
Rob waited until she was gone.

  “Do you really have to do that every time?” His mother looked at him, his Dad, then back at him.

  “Do what?”

  “Ask everyone if they are single and try to hook us up?” She laughed and rolled her eyes.

  “Of course! Honey, you need all the help you can get.” Rob just chuckled. It was true. He hadn't found anyone that he liked so far, or anyone he was willing to date. He liked a lot of girls, many of them way out of his league he figured. He wanted to date them, but couldn't bring himself to ask them. Rejection didn't go well with him.

  There had been many dates, but they all ended up with the one phrase he hated more than any other words ever spoken to him.

  “I think we should just be friends.” He didn't mind being friends; that didn't bother him. The fact that all he had was friends bothered him. He wanted more than that. He wanted to experience all the things his friends bragged about.

  Rob was a good kid, one who gave his all to achieve what he wanted in life. This was a unique quality, one that helped him at time and cost him at others. It helped him become an English wizard, able to spell words most people didn't know existed. It cost him relationship after relationship. Though he wanted them desperately, he often put the girl's best interests and feelings ahead of his own. This made him a good friend, not a good lover (though one would think otherwise). Life was tough being the one they all come crying to when their boyfriends decided it's time for something new. He had a new found distaste for the boys they were dating, also envied them because they had girlfriends to hurt and break up with, then call, apologize, and make out by the end of the night. Rob would have settled for just the breaking up part.

  Rob was this way with all of his friends. Two were caught in the middle of breakups and so much more. They did all they could to suffer through every second of it. This was before engagements were popular and a simple “by the book” procedure. This was when love meant never leaving, keeping your promises, staying true, and honoring one another. When it meant forever. First, marriage had been reduced to a “legitimate” way to have sex, but even that had been cut down to nothing. Now, sex was legitimate, no matter the circumstances or consequences. “We are young and only live once” became the motto of an emerging generation. “The world is at our fingertips.”