Aurelio's Dilemma

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Goodnight, Leslie had said before hanging up.

Instant jinx, in Matt's words.

It turned out the furthest thing from a good damn night.

Aurelio was sure he'd never slept worse. Tossing, turning, flipping, waging war with his comforter—that's how he spent it. And, of course, nightmares stitched from scraps of the car crash he'd seen on the news, all gloomy and terrifying and hellish, chased him until sunrise.

He woke up with a start, breathing heavily. Light streamed in through the curtains, casting yellow shapes across his bed. Aurelio sighed. Only a few more nights like this and it'd be over, just like every time.

Nothing out of the ordinary here. Everything was under control.

Yup.

When he was calm enough, he slipped off the bed and took a shower and got ready. Then he headed downstairs.

His mom was awake and jolly and she'd uncharacteristically prepared Aurelio's breakfast. He'd frown, only he knew why she was behaving like that—therapy days gave her hope. Hope that perhaps this session would be the beginning of some improvement, the break of the plateau, and she wouldn't have to watch her only son panic every time someone spoke of car accidents.

"Morning," Aurelio mumbled as he sat down. "And thanks."

"Don't be shy today, okay?" his mom said with a careful voice. "It's her job. You can tell her everything. She'd never judge you."

Aurelio nodded. "I know." He put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, staring at his bowl, refusing to catch his mom's eyes. Sure, today they glowed with hope but underneath that was a mass of sadness. The guilt and shame nipped at his soul.

Eventually his dad came in, so now was time to leave. Aurelio stood up then turned to the counter and grabbed two granola bars from the snack jar, one for him and one for Matt. Shoving them in his pocket, he followed his dad outside.

The air was humid. Aurelio looked at the car. He hadn't even touched it yet, but something heavy weighed down in his chest. He hadn't been in a vehicle since he'd heard about the crash. That was why he felt all jittery. He swallowed down the fear, climbed into the passenger seat, and buckled up.

Aurelio knew he couldn't have looked natural with the tense posture, the fidgety fingers. He pressed them into his clammy palm hard enough to hurt. His father drove slowly. The AC whirred. Nothing will happen, he told himself. This is just anxiety. Don't let it control you.

And he tried not letting it control him, but then he saw a Jeep in the opposite lane and it was like the world collapsed in on him. Aurelio gripped the armrest and shrank back in his seat, heart thundering. The scene of the accident flickered in his head, and then it dissolved into him, and now there was a glass shard impaled in his stomach. Blood trickling down onto his pants, splattering across the seat, over his hands.

Aurelio wanted to scream, but he couldn't; he just stared at the glass sticking out of him, his eyes wide and frightened, his crimson-soaked fingers trembling. Imagination. This was just imagination. Pain exploded in the area. The wound blazed.

Imagination.

Please.

"Elio, look to your left."

His dad's voice pierced the trance, and Aurelio fought to break free of its last traces. He forced himself to tilt his head. An elementary school came into view, but they drove past it faster than he could observe. Aurelio leant forward and tried to catch a last glimpse.

"My elementary school," Aurelio said, glancing at his dad.

"Yeah. Back when you were six, there was a kid who used to steal your food. Everyday. You didn't tell anyone. We only knew a month later, when you just suddenly burst out sobbing one morning and told us you hated school."

Aurelio looked down his front; there was nothing there anymore. No pain, no gash, no shrapnel. "Sounds like me," he mumbled, hardly attached to the conversation, mostly relieved he was okay.

And then the shame hit him, drowning out the rest of what his dad was saying. Really. Aurelio had really just panicked over seeing a Jeep. Great. Now he wasn't just scared of accidents. He was scared of cars too! What was next? Shitting his pants when he'd look at tar? He wouldn't be surprised.

From fear to relief to shame to frustration. All these emotions in less than five minutes. At this rate, Aurelio might get a brain hemorrhage—too much to process, too much to feel.

The only good part was that Aurelio's dad just...understood. He sure as hell noticed Aurelio's freak out, but he hadn't pointed it out or discussed it. Instead, he'd completely diverted the topic by telling the elementary school story. Aurelio couldn't appreciate that more.

The rest of the ride was calm. Aurelio's dad only asked him what he was planning to do after the session, and Aurelio told him he'd be heading to the skatepark to meet up with the rest.

Once they made it to the clinic, Aurelio exited the car and walked in. The waiting room was empty, and the receptionist told him he could enter the office. Inside, his therapist sat behind her black desk. She smiled at him with owlish eyes. Aurelio skipped the recliner and sat on the armchair. He always did that. The recliner made him feel like he was crazy or something.

"How are we feeling today?"

At this point, with Aurelio's level of hope about as low as Matt's self-esteem, he contemplated quitting therapy altogether. But he wouldn't, no matter how pointless it felt. He'd keep trying. For his parents to smile with no worry in their hearts. For his own sake, to find the keys to his old self again.

"Not good," Aurelio said. "Not good at all." He let out a chuckle. "You should give my anxiety a medal. It's breaking the records."