Bea & the Broken Record

Chapter 20: Give Me Therapy

Without Bea clutching my hand tightly in hers as we walked down the hallways, I felt out of place. I arrived at school late - surprise, surprise - but even when I searched for her, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. I texted her phone a few times, not wanting to annoy her but also wanting to figure where she was and if she was okay.

My heart raced every time I couldn't figure out where she was or didn't know what she was thinking. It scared the living hell out of me to think she was thinking about suicide again. It would be so easy to lose her and I wasn't oblivious to that.

First period was terrible - sitting through the lectures teachers give is the worst. When I'm in a bad mood, even projects aren't any fun. I was messing around with my cooked green broccoli when I felt the presence of someone sit down in front of me. I struggled to lift my gaze and look in front of me.

The rest of the table was empty due to the rest of the guys sitting outside to eat in the warm weather. Our school allowed seniors to eat outside in the court yard when the weather was warm. Since it was nearing the end of the year, they decided to take advantage of that.

Sitting in front of me was the hazel-eyed brown-haired girl I was in love with. Her eyes were wide and they darted back and forth to look at the people around her. Once I sat up straighter at the looks of her, she turned her gaze to me and a small smile spread across her face. She had a thin brown jacket on over a cream colored shirt. Her backpack was still hanging on her shoulders even though she looked relaxed enough to take it off.

"Um, hey, Asher. I know you might be mad that I haven't talked to you..." Bea trailed off. She averted her eyes from mine and I grabbed her hands that were laying flat on the table. I wanted to say something but she beat me to the punch before I could figure out what to say. There were too many things I had to say. Sorry? I love you? Those were only the simplest.

"My dad talked to me this morning," she murmured. "He said he made me an appointment with a group therapist."

I stared at her and saw the hate in her eyes.

"I hate therapy. I don't want to share my feelings with a bunch of people. I can't," Bea held onto my hand with both of hers, squeezed it tight.

"I know you don't want to hear this," I took a deep breath for courage. "But maybe this therapy will be good. You don't have to go into details." Bea's face was blank and clear of anything I could use to tell what she wasn't telling me. "I'll go with you. I want to go with you because I want to protect you and make sure you're okay."

She looked up at me through her lashes pathetically. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss her - but we were at school, and that kind of stuff didn't fly with the teachers.

I patted the seat beside me to invite her to sit next to me. I was surprised when she plopped down next to me without hesitation. With my arm comfortingly around her shoulders, she rested her head in my shoulder. Only a few people looked at us longingly, hatefully, and curiously.

"We have a show tonight. It's supposed to be really important because there will be a music producer from New York there. Will you come?" I asked softly. Bea didn't lift her head to look at me.

"I'll try. I'm not making any promises, though, because I hate breaking them," she told me quietly. I brought my hand up to play with a strand of her soft wavy hair.

"Why won't you come?" I tried to hide the hurt in my voice and make it sound more like curiosity. It worked as well as I could make it work. She finally scooted away from me so she could turn and look at me, touching my face with her hand and rubbing her thumb against my cheek. I had forgotten to shave the last couple days so there was some stubble.