Relative Fiction | ✓

22

I slept through the rest of the day and didn't wake up until the next morning, and it was the best sleep I'd had in a long time. The kind of sleep you get after crying until you can't breathe, and you can taste the salt of your tears on the back of your tongue. The kind of sleep you get after letting go.

My mother tried not to hover as I made my coffee that morning, fluttering around the kitchen pretending to be busy as she kept her eyes on me.

"Mom, I'm fine," I groaned. "I'm not made of glass, I won't break."

"I didn't say anything," she shrugged. She glanced outside, where my dad was sitting on the deck at the same glass table we sat at the night before. I gave my mom a quick nod and slid myself out the back door.

"Hey," I breathed out, lowering myself into the chair across from him.

"Feeling better?" he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

I bit back a snide remark and just nodded. "Yeah, I am."

It was quiet for a while, but a good kind of quiet. Waves sloshed against the beach, and some people coasted by on their morning runs. I knew better than to look for AJ, but I couldn't help it.

"Kai..." my dad finally said, pulling me out of my damaging thoughts. "I just want you to know that this is it, okay? No more bullshit."

I swallowed hard and nodded. "I know. No more bullshit."

"I'm not being hard on you to be a jerk," he continued. "I'm being hard on you because I care. Your mom..." he paused and shook his head. "Your mom and I can't handle this anymore. But you can't handle this anymore either, and I need you to understand that. I don't even want to think about what could happen if..."

"I get it, okay?" I said softly, knowing he didn't want to finish that sentence. I looked down into my coffee cup. "As much as you might think this is all crap, I'm...I'm tired of feeling like this. I don't want any part of it anymore."

Maybe I was finally starting to believe it, or maybe I just realized that the heartbreak was worse than all of it. Whatever it was, I was done feeling like I was constantly moments away from drowning. They say when you try to save someone who's drowning, you go under with them. But what happens when you try to save yourself?

✗✗✗

I agreed to go back to therapy, on the condition that I got a new therapist and was moved to a different youth group. If I wanted this to work, and I mean really work, I had to start over, and starting over meant not having to look AJ in the eyes, because she'd drag me out to sea all over again, and this time I'd probably never come back.

Starting over also meant the jittering, ricocheting of my nerves had yet to settle as I sat in the waiting room of the hospital later that afternoon. I didn't want to admit the thought of running into AJ also set my teeth chattering, but luckily I got called in before I could make a run for it. My new counselor - an older woman named Shelly, who looked like someone put her in the dryer too long and shrunk her - spoke too slowly and overused the word honey, but I tried to keep my eye rolling to a minimum. Shelly stressed the importance of routine and giving myself a sense of normalcy.

As much as part of me wanted to puke on the spot, the other part of me was ready to move on. To let go. Being at war with myself was too exhausting to keep up, and eventually, somebody had to win...or surrender. So, I was ready to make routine and normalcy my bitch.

Over the next couple of weeks, I worked almost regular hours at the flower shop. I bought clothes that actually fit me and didn't have burn holes. I even got a haircut.