Page 74 of Yesterday I Cared
The picture paints itself so vividly in my mind. What it would look like for us to spend whatever forever looks like for us side by side. I can see lazy mornings spent in bed or wandering around local festivals; I can see us celebrating holidays with our friends, taking Lezak on long walks. The kisses, the hugs, and the never questioning our place in each other’s lives. It’s a beautiful picture, and I want so badly to see it come true. But I can’t jinx it. I refuse to.
I stand on my tippy-toes until I can brush our noses together and whisper, “Even better.”
Ronan drops one of my hands to wrap it around my waist, pulling me in for a deep kiss.
I’m not ready to say the words yet, not by a long shot, but the idea of him and I having a story that never ends sounds pretty damn good to me.
It's shocking how quickly everything you work so hard for can collapse around you. Love, a career, a relationship—all of it can crumble. Nothing is permanent, so it shouldn't be treated like it is.
That's the way I've lived most of my life, especially the last eight years. The day I woke up in the hospital bed, with no one but a kind nurse holding my hand while the doctor slowly dismantled my life, haunts me. From that point on, everything fell apart. I lost what felt like everything, including the final proof that I never had my parents’ love. I only had their attention, and even that was fleeting.
Instead of focusing on the people who did show up and convinced me to fight for what I still had, I focused on all the things I’d lost. Since starting Operation Fly, I'd pick new clubs and swimming programs to oversee whenever I felt the need to run. To get away before I'm standing in the rubble of my life once more.
The last week or so, I've started feeling that itch again. The restlessness, the need to run. This time, it pisses me off. What do I possibly have to run away from? Everything I could have ever wanted is here; why can't I stick around to see it through for once?
When the itch started, I made an appointment with my therapist. I'm still getting to know him; I'm still determining whether he's whoI'd like to see going forward, should I stay. I also haven't been as good about going as I usually am, which makes the process harder.
The appointment was two hours ago. I'd walked into that office so sure I was about to hear the same thing I'd heard countless times. My previous therapist told me I had a restless soul, which isn't a bad thing, but I needed to wait for the thing that felt real. I’d been happy to let her believe that.
This guy, though, he saw right fucking through me. In less than an hour, he'd figured out that it wasn't me searching for something real; it was me running away from anything that felt too good, too tangible. He was the first person to call it what I've always known it to be: fear.
By the end of the session, I felt ripped open and raw in the way only therapy could make you feel. Worse, I know he's right, and now that a stranger has spoken the words out loud, there is no denying it. I don't want to run away anymore, though.
And I'm fighting against every instinct I have to stay, but my behavior is defaulting to patterns. Which my therapist, who I now have regularly scheduled appointments with, thinks is a defense mechanism. That I'm allowing myself to fall into those old habits, despite my brain saying otherwise, out of fear that things won't work out.
My phone lights up on the table, an incoming call from Mel, reminding me of the other obligations I have. Watching Lezak dart around my backyard, I press the phone against my ear. "Hey."
"Wow, you sound like an absolute delight this afternoon," she greets sarcastically. "Is it a bad time?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping to keep the headache I can feel coming on at bay. "Nah, it's fine; just came from an appointment. What's going on?"
"The start date for the new build in Santa Fe is closing in on us, Ronan," she reminds me. "You told me you wanted to take it. I need an answer, soon."
When Bryce and Carter asked me to come out to Adair, the Santa Fe project was already in the works. It was going to be a large undertaking—building a new facility at a high school in an underprivileged area and bringing kids from surrounding high schools to swim for the same team, while also providing water safety classes free to the community.
It was supposed to be my way out of Adair. It'd give me six months to make sure my friends were good, and then I could leave. Onto the next thing.
"Send Jon," I say, surprising even myself. "And have him take Morgan with him. She needs the experience." Mel stays silent on the other end for a little too long. "Mel?"
"I'm sorry. Is this some kind of a joke?"
"Not a joke." I lean back in the chair, squinting against the sun. "Jon is a strong coach who's great with people at all levels and Morgan is excellent at water safety. She just needs more coaching experience. Jon will be good with that. Did you have someone else in mind?"
"Yeah, you," she deadpans. "Since when do you turn down a project in a city you've never been to?"
“I can’t leave Adair yet. Bryce and Carter still need some help.”
It’s a bald-face lie. Both, or either, of them could run this place completely on their own. Sure, I made a commitment to my team, but there’s no reason for me to stay. Even Bryce had a feeling I wouldn’t stick around months ago.
“Okay, if you’re sure.” I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “What about future projects? Are there any you want me to put you on?”
“Not yet. I don’t know how long I’m going to be out here.”
Why can’t I just say I’m planning to stay? That she’s more than capable of taking over the day-to-day operations of Operation Fly? Why can’t I tell her I’ve found everything I’ve been looking for my entire adult life and don’t want to leave it behind? Why can’t I be honest with her?
“All right, I’ll keep you updated,” Mel relents.
“I actually need to come out to California soon. We need to have a meeting with the board to talk about some things regarding the future and it’s best if we do it in person. I’ll try to get out there in the next two or three weeks. Does that work for you?”
