Page 50 of The Other Side of Wild
“Things kind of got to a boiling point; he said some things, and I reacted.”
“You mean you ran? Did you give him a chance to explain first?” I look down at my hands, finding and pulling at the piece of skin hanging on the side of my thumb.
“No. I should have let him explain. I got overwhelmed and scared, and I bolted.” His hand covers mine to stop the picking; he’s always hated when I did that. Said there were other ways to deal with anxiety that didn’t involve physical harm.
“You deserve good things, Han. It’s okay to break so you can shine a little brighter. A lifetime of being told you’re not good enough no matter what you do doesn’t go away overnight. It’s good that you’ve gotten to the point where you can come home. But like you said, Dad controlled so much of your life; don’t give him anymore. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume Mr. Harley personified is nothing like Dad.” I nod; if there’s anything I know, it’s that Greyson Wilder is the exact opposite of my father.
“Then you owe it to both of you to keep healing, keep moving, and if you can help each other through the messes you have on the inside, I think you’ll be surprised at how good a relationship can be when it’s the right person.” I eye him skeptically; when did he get so wise?
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
His eyes crinkle at the corner, hand rubbing across his jaw as a smile graces his face. He looks like the little boy I chased around for hours all those years ago. “Let’s just say I’ve learned how not to treat a woman by watching how Dad treated you and Mom.”
There’s a silver lining I wasn’t expecting. I think I’d go through my childhood a hundred times over if it meant keeping my little brother from getting the brunt of it. I’d hate to see him turn out like our father, but he’s too kind; he always has been. A shy, gentle giant. I sometimes wonder how much of his personality is because he tried to make himself small to avoid the heat of things.
We watch the sunset as we talk about everything I’ve missed over the past eight years. The classes he’s taking, the fact that he just changed his major from computer science to creative writing. He’s come to realize his written communication is better than verbal, and he has some ideas for novels he’d like to write. It’s like so much time has passed, but I also feel like no time has passed at all.
“Never thought this would be a sight I got to see again in my lifetime.” Looking over our shoulder, Mom is leaning against the pillars on the porch. “Makes my heart feel full.” She smiles, and it fills me with warmth. “Come on, dinner’s ready. Let me eat with my kids before one of them flies the coop again tomorrow.”
Eli pops up first, extending his hand to me as he helps me off the ground. We link our arms together like we’ve always done and head into the dining room, where we spent many nights in silence, afraid of what was coming. But tonight, instead of fear, there’s nothing here but love. New memories are taping over the old ones.
Chapter 28 – Greyson
Tonight is the first game I’ll be at since I got injured. I won’t be dressing, but it’s better than watching from home. I still haven’t heard from Hannah; I’ve been going insane from the silence. There’s a lot going through my mind, but what plagues me most days is the way the color drained from her face right before my eyes. How I got to witness the physical reaction, my poorly handled response to my mom's question had on her, not to mention the fact that Kara showed up and tried to stir the pot, yet I was at home wallowing in self-pity.
The only thing keeping my tiny thread of sanity together is the video I got from Andrews a few days ago of her and Abby dancing and laughing as they fell on the floor. I know she’s okay; in fact, she looked like she was glowing. Makes me wonder if she’s happier without me around; that thought is my biggest internal battle right now.
The first order of business today, though, is for me to go see Dr. Williams. We had a virtual session two days ago in the midst of a spiral. It’s a frustrating process; it seems to be two steps forward and twenty steps back.
I’m sitting in the waiting room, legs bouncing in anticipation. This is always the worst part. The waiting, the looks on the faces of other people as they come out. It’s uncomfortable, but you know what they say. You have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Isn't that the truth?
The hallway door opens, and Dr. Williams pokes his head out; his salt and pepper hair swishes as he gives me a curt nod. “Come on in, Sugar.” I freeze, trying to process what he just said when both he and the receptionist snicker. I rub my hands down my jean-clad legs and give them a quick smack right before my knees, shaking my head. I stand and walk over to the joker of the hour.
“Call me that again, and I’ll be the one charging you by the hour.” I wink, earning me another laugh, boisterous and full of life. It puts a genuine smile on my face, one that feels like I’m hatching out of a metaphorical cocoon. There’s light and hope on the other side.
We get into his office and sit in our normal spots, him to the side of his desk, me right in front of it. “Okay, Greyson. How were things after we spoke last?” He’s looking not at me but through me.
I can’t hold back because he’ll call it out. And that’ll make me dig deeper and drag things out. But holy moly, I feel like a failure at this moment. I’m so used to seeing tangible growth and physical improvements. My skate times, how much weight I can push in the gym, what I’m eating, and how that makes my body feel.
But this? The defective brain that does well for stretches of time and then decides it’s going to collapse in on itself and cause my body to have a mass riot. I can’t see it; I can’t guess what’s going to set it off. Heck, some days I wake up, and I’m just sad.
Begging myself to get out of bed and not being physically able to. Desperately needing to shower while also wanting nothing more than to decay because it’s so dark and so heavy inside my chest. I can squat over three hundred pounds, but I can’t find the light switch in the dark sometimes.
I had to order a nightlight so that I could imagine some sort of light cutting through the heavy fog. I needed a lighthouse, no scratch that. I needmylighthouse. Shechases away my darkness by simply being herself. But I pushed her away, too.
I clear my throat, tapping my fingers on the arm of the chair. “They weren’t great. It took me a day and a half to pull myself together after we got off the phone.”
Nodding, he writes on his yellow notepad; when he’s done, he lifts the pen to his mouth and chews on the cap at the end. “When you think about why you’re sad, does anything come to mind?”A head full of red hair, a challenging eyebrow, and eyes so beautiful I see them in my dreams.
“There’s a lot going on in there, but the thing that weighs heaviest is I hurt Hannah. But that isn’t when this started. That was a byproduct of me snapping because I felt like I was hog-tied and left to the wolves.” The man actually snorts.
“Didn’t picture you to be the bondage type, Greyson.” Say what now? This man is losing it. “Moving on swiftly. What starts a slump isn’t always what sustains it.” He rolls his chair to the side of the desk and pulls out a stress ball that looks like a brain. Tossing it at me, I catch it and raise a questioning brow.
“What I’m saying is, it’s time to put your boots to the ground. Do the things that make you uncomfortable. You’re sad you hurt a woman you care about; go fix it. You’re keeping yourself stuck by not taking action. Do something, anything other than whatever you’ve been doing this far. Clearly, that’s not working.”
Squeezing the life out of the brain, I nod as I let his words wash over me. He’s right; the fear of rejection is what’s kept me from anything more than texting her. I’ll talk to Abby later when she picks up Harley; maybe she can help me come up with a game plan or at least tell me when she’s coming home.
“Yeah, okay. You’re right.”