“We always think there will be more time, Chase. More time to plan, more time to say I love you, more time to hold someone close. We also like to think people are trustworthy, but you learned from experience they’re not. We can plan everything down to the finest detail, and it doesn’t matter. Sometimes, it just fucking rains.”
I laugh. It’s his favorite damn phrase.
“I said that to Ren not long ago after her ex came after her. You make it sound more poetic than I did.” When it rains here, the whole town goes under water in no time. I guess his metaphor has more meaning than I thought. He’s right, though. Again. I knew it would be fast.
“I keep thinking of Cassie, picturing her there in all that…blood.” I swallow hard. My stomach churns, so I drink down the glass of water on the table. “But it’s not her face, it’s not her body. It’s Ren. I’m even having nightmares about it. I can’t sleep.”
“How is Ren handling things?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, Cassie had a fucking breakdown and I never even saw it. I’m a fucking idiot who can’t see shit when it’s right in front of my face. I mean, do I even know Ren? Would I notice a shift in her? Would I ignore it like I did Cassie?”
“Chase, we’re going to get through this, but we have to do it in steps. You did see Cassie’s issues, so did other people, including her own therapist. You did everything you could for her, but you aren’t to blame for that. You also have to stop comparing the two. Ren and Cassie are different people.”
I stand up and pace. Rage builds and I’m not sure where it’s coming from, it just needs to get out. “FUCK! How the fuck am I not to blame for her slitting her fucking wrists inmyhouse? My girlfriend fucking killed herself because of me and my fucking baggage. Which part of that am I not blaming myself for? Huh? I can’t even go in the fucking room anymore, Doc.” I fall back onto the couch, running out of steam, and I mumble, “I sealed it shut so no one could.”
“No amount of nails or glue will help you control the world around you, Chase. People make their own decisions. They choose how to live their lives and face their demons, not you. You can sympathize and understand their demons. You can stand at their side as they battle them. But each of us has to battle their own demons.” He sets his notebook aside and takes off his glasses. “Chase, let’s start smaller. Tell me about what’s going on with Ren.”
I rub my face and groan. “I had her come stay at my place. She calls me when she gets to the school, when she leaves, at lunch. She’s doing everything I ask, but I’m losing my temper, forgetting lines at work, and being a general fuck up. I’m so damn lost.”
“There’s where we need to start. Think about what you’ve told me. You’ve described Ren as an intelligent, capable woman who hasn’t shown signs of mental distress, and yet you’re trying to control her life. You’re giving her rules and putting her on a leash, but from what you’ve said before, she’s the one who wants you on the leash.” I nod and he continues. “Why are you controlling her?”
“I’m not! I want to keep her safe.”
“Noble, but it will backfire on you. She’s independent and you’re trying to force her to be something she’s not used to. She needed to take back control of her life after what she lived through. You’re taking her away from her life outside of you and forcing her into yours. Does that worry you?”
“It’s not… I’m not…”
“Go ahead. Saying it out loud helps.”
“I’m trying to protect her! She’ll get hurt if I don’t do this.”
“Who will hurt her, Chase?”
“I don’t know! I could have stopped Cassie. If I’d been home, if I’d have answered her call that morning.”
“You don’t know why she called you, though.”
I’ve never stopped thinking about it. It’s hard enough finding the woman you love in a pool of her own blood, but living with the realization you missed the last opportunity to hear her voice? I may never let go of that. I’m forever haunted by this idea of saving her just by answering her call. That’s why I get annoyed when people let my calls ring. It’s why Dr. Clay never picks up right away when I call him.
“No,” I admit. I have my theories, and they range depending on my mood. Some days, in my mind, she called to tell me she loved me. Other days, I’m sure she called to say she hated me and what I’d done to her life. Theo likes to remind me it’s possible she called to tell me to pick up eggs on the way home, something mundane instead of dramatic.
“Ren has a life, doesn’t she? Family, friends, responsibilities? She’ll need her freedom back.”
“She goes to work! Her sister comes over, too. ”
“Given her past, what she’s been through, she’s likely allowing you to do this because she understands what you’re going through. You’re doing this for you, not her, and she’s picked up on that. But soon, she’ll see you as controlling, and how do you think that’s going to work out?”
I can still picture it. The night I took Cassie’s keys and locked them in my safe when she wasn’t looking. I told her I hadn’t seen them and promised her we’d find them soon or replace them. I wanted to protect her, and I ended up becoming her fucking jailor. I don’t want that for Ren. Hell, I don’t think I could do that with Ren if I wanted to. She’d smack the ever loving shit out of me and walk home in a rage.
“I’m fucking it all up. I don’t want her to be a prisoner, but I want to keep those fucking assholes away from her.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands so hard, I’m sure I’ll give myself a migraine. “It’s all my fault. I wanted this so bad, and now that I have Ren, I’m so fucking desperate to keep her safe.”
“Some sociologists think safety exists only as a social construct. That believing something or someone is safe ignores the potential harm, therefore becoming the harm itself.”
“Fuck. So, I’m fucking everything up, like I said.”
“Try a different angle. Who keeps you safe?”
“I don’t need—” I stop, realizing what he’s actually asking me to do. He wants me to think about how to answer, not answer off the cuff. “I’m in the same danger she is, so why am I not locking myself up in the house?”
