After getting away from his cruel father's tyranny, Randall has to learn how to live again, and accept the person he was meant to be - with a little help of a local bartender...
*****
An empty shell is all what is left of twenty-five-yea...
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-Randall-
I spent the next few days on Cole's couch, doing nothing because I still wasn't allowed to do anything. Cole made sure I was resting. To be honest, I... didn't really want to do anything. I was feeling a little bit better. It was only a slight improvement, but an improvement, nonetheless, and I feared I'd start spiraling from the smallest of inconvenience. Staying on the couch felt safe.
I'd called my boss after leaving Vaughn's office, telling him I needed more time off from work. I didn't give him a lot of details, only that I still wasn't fit to come back to work, but I was now trying to fix myself. He told me he understood and asked me to call him if I needed anything, but I didn't need anything. I didn't want anything.
I was still too numb to want anything.
Truthfully, staying numb was much better than having my father scream in my head, and I wished I could stay in that state of mind, not feeling anything. Part of me didn't want to have anything to do with therapy, either. I was fine with being this way forever. I was fine with sitting on the couch forever. I was fine with the way I now was. I didn't need to go see Vaughn on Friday.
That's why I needed Cole. I needed him to watch over me.
Cole stayed with me during those two days. He had a lot of paperwork to do while I watched TV, trying not to disturb him. I lost count of how many times I forgot the TV and just focused on him, listening to the noises he made from rustling his papers to quiet humming and singing. He did that a lot. It was... soothing.
And that... That made me want to go see Vaughn on Friday. Every time he sang, I was filled with eagerness to go see the old man already, though I couldn't understand why. What was it about Cole's singing that made me want to go see my therapist?
It made no sense...
Then Cole had to go back to work. He couldn't find anyone to take over his shift. I tried to tell him I was fine on my own while he was at the bar, but he refused to listen.
"I'll tell the others to leave you alone," he told me reassuringly as we stepped into the break room at the back of his bar.
It wasn't a large room, but there still was space for a kitchenette and a small table with chairs, a bookshelf, a couch, and a tiny TV on a small table in front of it. The door behind us led straight to the area behind the bar counter, and the door to the dressing rooms and the toilet was on our left.
There wasn't going to be a lot of peace, quiet, or privacy, that was for sure...
"Okay," I still muttered, feeling a bit uncomfortable, but then again, I didn't trust myself, so maybe it was a good idea I stayed here, where Cole could keep a close eye on me while working.
"Just let me know if there's anything you need. You can have all the drinks and salted peanuts you want, of course. On me," he said, giving me a playful wink.
