"How are you this week, Grayson?" Dr. Meyer asked as I sat across from her the following Saturday. Her hair was slicked back in a bun again, though her lipstick was a slightly darker shade of red, it suited her better, made her more approachable. Again, she had her notebook open, fountain pen in hand ready to jot down my every word.
"Okay," was my only response.
"Okay?"
"Y-yeah. As okay as I c-can be."
"What does that look like for you?"
"I'm n-not being laughed at a-anymore."
"Anymore?"
"Ev-everyone at school kn-knows," I stuttered.
"The story on the news last week, that was you?"
"Doesn't take a PhD to figure that one out," I scoffed.
"That must be difficult, to have had your private life on Eyewitness News."
"It's hell. P-people gossiped, and laughed, and th-then it was like they just f-forgot. I don't know why but both hurt just as bad."
"It hurts to be the subject of rumors, but when they stopped talking it was almost as if they didn't care, wasn't it?"
"Y-yeah. Like they all realized how d-dark what had happened was."
"People generally don't like to talk about things that make them uncomfortable," Dr. Meyer said casually.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because it's easier not to talk about. Speaking from personal experience, it's hard to carry around other people's trauma. Why do you think therapists have therapists?" She laughed. "A lot of people can't handle the reality that life can be shitty and hard, sorry I didn't mean to curse. That was unprofessional of me."
"It's okay, th-thank you for being real with me."
"That's my job."
"C-can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"H-how do I deal with the guilt?"
"Guilt?"
"Trent," was all I could manage to get out.
"What I'm hearing is you feel guilty about how much you're putting on Trent?"
"Yeah," I whispered.
"That's normal. And to some extent you're right. That is a lot of pressure to put on someone, dealing with that trauma."
"Gee, thanks," I scoffed.
"I know it's not easy to hear. It's a lot to put on Trent, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to lean on him."
"B-but what if it's too much?"
"What if it's too much?"
"What if he leaves?"
"Is that all you're afraid of?"
"He, he's had problems with drinking... and d-drugs."
"You're afraid you're going to drive him to start using again?"
"Yes."
"How he decides to process his own emotions is his decision alone. It wouldn't be your fault if that's how he chooses to cope."
"B-but if I never tell him in the f-first place-"
"Then he still lives with the guilt of knowing you're suffering but won't talk to him about it. And he may still start using again, again because that is how he chooses to deal with things."
"Maybe I should b-break up with him..." I muttered.
"And he would be heartbroken, and still potentially go back to using, again because of the poor coping mechanisms he has. Grayson, having a loved one who has experienced a trauma has a toll on us. It just does."
"H-how do I not feel g-guilty about that toll?"
"How do you think you can not feel guilty about it?"
"I d-don't know. Th-that's why I'm asking you." Dr. Meyer laughed and I frowned.
"You know I'm not here to give you all the answers, Grayson."
"I know, I know." I sighed. "I just d-don't have the answer on my own."
"I know, and it's okay. You will, we'll get there together."
"H-how much time do we have?" Dr. Meyer glanced at her watch for the first time all session.
"Not today no, but next week, same time. You'll be okay?" I nodded. At this point I was beginning to think she knew more than she let on about how I came to her. This was her way of drawing a safety contract with me, without directly making one. I appreciated that.
"How'd it go honey?" Mom asked as I got in the car after therapy.
"F-fine," was all I would say. I had to admit I was stuttering a lot more in front of my parents. It was really bothering them, I think. I used to be so comfortable around them, they used to be the only people I could really rely on. Now I was so distant from them, it was like we were strangers. I could tell we all were harboring guilt over Adam, and we all didn't know how to deal with it. I chose to deal with it the way I always did. Suffer in silence.
"Just fine?" I nodded. She probably couldn't see me since she was driving, but I didn't care. I just turned and stared out the window at all of the wonderful sights of suburban New Jersey. There was the mall, a bunch of fast food joints, multiple Starbucks, my high school. Staring out at those lovely sights was a lot better than engaging in conversation with my mom. It wasn't until my mom completely drove past our street that I was snapped out of my daydreams.
"Where are we g-going?" I asked, brows furrowed.
"You'll see!" Mom smiled mischievously as she drove.
"You know I hate surprises," I mumbled, folding my arms across my chest with a huff. As she drove, I realized she was going to my favorite ice cream place. Her and dad used to take me all the time as a kid. She smiled as we pulled into the parking lot, convinced that she just fixed all of the awkwardness in our relationship. I, however, was completely unamused by this pandering. It was going to take more than ice cream to earn my forgiveness. I don't even know what I had to forgive them for. I guess I would work that out with Dr. Meyer.
We ate our ice cream in complete silence. The crunch of our chosen toppings, sprinkles for me and Oreo crumbs for Mom, were the only noises between us. Mom smiled at me every few minutes, hopeful that I would say something, anything. I would return a guilty smile every few moments, desperate to just finish eating and leave. Every time I looked at my mom all I could see was Adam, the way my parents would hug him, how happy they looked at the beginning of the week that he had visited. They looked happier than I had seen them in a long time, and it was all thanks to Adam. They had no idea the monster their best friend actually was, and I felt betrayed by them for not figuring it out sooner, for not seeing how disgusting he was. It seemed so obvious to me, the signs were all there, and they were blissfully ignorant of all of them. I wondered if they felt as bad as I wanted them to feel?
"Your dad postponed his business trips, by the way," Mom said as we drove back to our house.
"H-he didn't have to."
"His boss understood, the work he needed to do out there can be done later, after the trial. We're also postponing our anniversary trip."
"I would've been fine."
"I know, but you need us here to support you right now. We couldn't just leave you alone Grayson, not now."
"You know when I really needed you? When I was 10, the first time it happened. I needed you to see what was happening and help me. But you ignored all of the signs. So no, I don't need you." Mom had just parked the and she barely had time to shut off the engine before I threw myself out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I called Trent as I made my way into the house.
"Hey babe, everything okay?" Trent asked as he answered the phone.
"C-can you come pick me up?"
"Of course, I'll be right there," he hung up the phone and I locked myself in my room and waited for him to arrive. When he texted me that he was outside I ran down the stairs and almost made it to the door without seeing my parents, but they were sitting at the kitchen island, whispering to each other. Their conversation stopped as I walked past them, and they ran out of the kitchen after me.
"Grayson, we need to talk," Dad called as I opened the front door.
"Trent's here, I don't have t-time."
"We need to talk about what you said earlier," Mom pleaded.
"I have n-nothing else to say to y-you," I stuttered before leaving the house, slamming the front door behind me. I instantly felt relieved as I saw Trent's face through the car window. He got out of the truck and ran to open the door for me, and I giggled.
"What?" He frowned.
"I can open my own door, you know?"
"I know, can't I just do something nice for my boyfriend?" He asked, emphasizing the word boyfriend.
"I guess you can," I smiled.
"Why did you call me babe, what happened?" Trent asked as he drove away from my house.
"My m-mom. She told me my dad was p-postponing his business trip next month until a-after the trial."
"What's wrong with that?"
"Th-they don't want to leave me alone now, but they ignored the signs I was being a-abused for years?"
"I get it, you're angry with them, it feels like there help is coming way too late."
"Six years too late." I grumbled.
"Isn't it better than not at all?" As much as I hated to admit it Trent had a point. They couldn't be there for me then, but they were trying to be here now. Maybe I could try to forgive them.