“Come on. You totally miss me.” I spread out on the bench directly across from her.
“Yes. It’s not enough to have to put up with you every weekend; I need to see you every day so you can make me feel like shit. Otherwise I might do something stupid, like feel good.”
“I’m flattered that you care that much about me, Jordyn. I had no idea.” I place my hand on my chest and flutter my eyelashes.
“Yep. And it must drive you crazy because I know you don’t want anyone to care. You just want to push everyone away because you can’t stand to have people feel sorry for you. Well, you know what, Tyler? I do feel sorry for you. Your mom left you here and it’s fucked up. It’s okay to be angry. I’d be. I even understand why you do something kind for me and then just push me away. But I’m not going to pretend, because it’s just too exhausting.”
My stomach knots in fury.
“And I’m not going to tell you that you can’t eat lunch here, because I saw your little encounter with the cheerbitches and I know you don’t have anywhere else to go. I know you had to ride the bus and that you have to work two jobs for some mysterious reason, and that sucks. I’m sorry you have to go through all of that. I’m sorry that you feel the need to hook up with some random girl you met at the studio because you’re so incredibly empty inside. And I feel privileged that you feel comfortable enough to grace me with your presence. So I’m not going to ask you to leave, because, Tyler, I feel sorry for you.”
All the anger I’ve forced down is starting to bubble to the surface. I feel my heart pounding in my fingertips, my toes, my temples. I need to punch something. And it’s not that I’m pissed at her; I’m pissed at me. I’m the one who allowed myself to be vulnerable. But I’m also pissed at her.
Jordyn looks a little uncertain when I stand up and slowly begin to walk toward her. I’m shaking. I look down at my hands, the left is a fist, the right is holding the half-eaten pizza. Before I even register that I’ve moved, my right hand thrusts out, skimming her hair as I shove the pizza into the glossy gray cinderblock wall behind her. Her eyes are wide. She really thought I was going to hit her. I seriously have to get the fuck out of here before I do something really stupid.
I’m walking briskly to my car when Mrs. Ortiz grabs my arm. Her fingernails dig in as I jerk free. I don’t stop. I don’t look back.
When I get in the car, I pound my fists against the steering wheel so hard, I hear something snap on the steering column. And I scream at the top of my lungs. I scream. And scream. And fucking scream until my throat hurts and my screams sound like I’ve swallowed razor blades.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I calm down enough to notice that the tears have stained the blue material of my shirt three shades darker where they’ve landed. Which only makes me angry again. Fuck Jordyn Smith and her insight.
I spot Mrs. Ortiz heading toward my car with the security guard. I get the car started up before she reaches me and drive over the grass median because they’re blocking my path.
? ? ?
I end up at Dr. Dave’s office pacing the length of the waiting room. A woman close to his age, maybe thirty, watches me while clutching her purse.
When Dr. Dave pops his head out to fetch his next patient, my waiting room friend, he takes in my red eyes and pacing.
“I’ll just see you next week,” the woman says, slipping out the door before he can utter a word.
Dr. Dave ushers me into his office and begs me to sit when I start pacing again.
“I can’t sit,” I say. “If I sit, I’ll cry.”
“Then you cry. So what?”
I glare at him, but he points to the couch and waits until I finally do as asked. I’m right. The second my butt hits the cushion, the tears start up again.
Dr. Dave slides a Kleenex box across the coffee table and waits for me to get it together. Then he speaks. “What happened?”
I explain about Jordyn. He just listens. Once I’ve finished, he scoots to the edge of his chair and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “You know that holding all this shit in just causes cancer, right?”
I manage a smile.
“It’s perfectly normal to feel this way. Frankly, I’m thrilled you feel at all. Your lack of emotions was really starting to freak me out. This I can handle. This I understand. That emotionless thing you’ve been for the last few months was not okay.”
“But it’s just so much easier if I turn it all off.”
“It’s really not. It’s like putting a piece of tape on a leaky hose. Sooner or later the tape is going to come unstuck and the water is going to gush out harder because of the buildup.”