I take a deep inhale like my ribs have been blocking airflow to my lungs. And just now, I breathe.
“The greatest medicine on Earth isn’t a pill. It’s compassion. The ability to make someone feel less alone. Someone very close has been this for you.”
This is where I start crying. “Ryke.” I rub my watery eyes. Sometimes the world looks bleak. Like every road is barricaded. Like pounding through walls to reach a happy future takes too much effort. Like it’s not in the cards for me. Then I remember it’s not impossible.
This is temporary.
This feeling will go away soon. Just wait.
The walls will dissolve. Just wait.
The sun will rise again.
Just wait.
We can wait in the arms of the people we love. That’s what I’ll tell Sulli. It’s what I’ll do when she’s upset.
“She’ll be okay,” I breathe, coming to this simple but freeing realization. She will be okay.
Frederick sinks back in his chair, and I drift towards the couch. I end up lying down, hanging my shoulders and head over the back. I wipe off the wet streaks on my face.
“My sister would totally call you magic.”
“Lily?” he asks, but he already knows she’s the truest believer of us all.
“Do you ever bring up magic with Connor just to annoy him?” Suddenly, the door cracks open, and I stare at the incomer upside-down. “Speak of the genius.”
Connor arches a brow. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because you never are,” I answer with the wag of my brows. I think he’s referring to us discussing him and me being upside-down.
“She’s one of the smart ones,” Connor says, shutting the door behind him and walking further into Frederick’s office, closer to the couch. “But not smarter than me.”
Frederick checks his watch. “You’re an hour early, Connor.”
“I don’t have to check my watch to know I’m only fifty-two minutes early. You’re not playing your best game, Rick.”
“Or maybe I’m just not playing the same game.”
Connor eyes our therapist with more agitation than he lets most people see in a week. “Then tell me why I’m here.”
Is this what it’s like between them? I’ve never really been with Frederick and Connor at the same time. Frederick assesses Connor as fast as Connor assesses him.
“I’d rather not discuss your motivations in front of another patient, especially one that’s a part of your family.”
“Hey there, brother-in-law,” I say with a weak smile.
Connor pockets his cellphone in his slacks. He says nothing in response to either of us yet. He just waits for me to move my feet off the leather cushion. Ryke would’ve just picked up my legs. Lo would’ve said move your goddamn body. Connor—he just stares at me like it’s expected. Like the couch is his.
The floor is his.
The air, the water, all of life’s necessities. His.
And for some crazy reason, I don’t question it. I just scrunch towards half the couch, sitting up more, and he takes a seat beside me.
“Does that always work?” I ask, knowing he’ll understand what I mean.
“Only if you’re me.” He rests his elbow on the leather armrest, his fingers casually to his temple. “Daisy, would you mind if I joined your session?”
My curiosity piques. “Not at all.”
Frederick sighs in slight annoyance, but this seems like the kind of invite you’d never reject.
“You do joint sessions all the time,” Connor says. “You shouldn’t be disgruntled by this one.”
“You purposefully showed up early to crash her session. That calls for a stronger emotion than discontent, but this isn’t about my feelings. If she’s agreeing to this, then we’ll do it, but Daisy, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“It’s okay. I feel better.”
Connor studies the dried tears on my face.
Frederick reluctantly rises off the chair, grabs a second folder from a filing cabinet, and returns to his seat. He flips through the papers, a few falling to his lap. He tries to stuff them back inside.
Connor watches intently, and a smile snakes across his face. “Did I catch you off guard, Rick? Do you need more time to prep?”
Our therapist lets out a tight breath. “Why don’t we start with a commonality between the two of you?” He plants his gaze on Connor. “Scott Van Wright.”
Boom.
I haven’t heard that name in our sessions in a couple years. The whole “Scott Van Wright illegally filmed you blowing your previous boyfriend, lied about destroying the tapes and then continued to watch them” was a segment of my life that I’ve snipped away and filed under Super Shitty Shit.
I’m curious to see how Connor handles this topic, though. Since his privacy was also invaded by Scott. Only difference: his sex tapes were blasted out to the entire world. Mine aren’t online because it’s child pornography. Scott never uploaded it.
But there’s something else that strings us together, I know this.
Connor was the one who discovered the tapes of me. They were in Scott’s house, and Connor somehow befriended Scott in a way that only Connor Cobalt could do. He found the tapes. I’m not sure if he watched them. I never asked.
My suspicions point to no, since Pennsylvania law prohibits even watching child pornography (I was seventeen in the videos), and Connor is sitting here and not in jail. Though, I wouldn’t have pressed charges if he did. I’d understand if it was something that had to happen to catch Scott in the act.
“We have many commonalities,” Connor counters with barely a blink. “Why choose this one?”
Frederick leans back in a comfortable position, no longer stressed that we’re here together. “You both have been violated by Scott—”
Connor doesn’t wait for him to finish. He grimaces strongly and says, “Violated is a grossly exaggerated term to describe what Scott did. He pissed on my front yard. He’s the equivalent of a rodent scurrying from a nearby tree and urinating on my property. That’s it, Rick.”
My eyes slowly grow. I’m watching an unfiltered version of Connor, something only seen in a director’s cut edition, and I shouldn’t really be privy to it.
My brother-in-law glances at me, as if reminding himself of my existence, but he doesn’t sweat it or bat an eye. “That word, I’m sure, belongs to Daisy. Let’s talk about that.”
I smile. “But I’d rather talk about rodents urinating on lawns.”
Frederick cuts in, “Daisy, what do you think about the word violated? Do you think it pertains to you?”
So we’re going here? I take a deeper breath. “Yes,” I say. “Because what Scott did was awful and unconsented.” My skin crawls just picturing Scott and his friends watching me on tapes that I never knew existed.
“Awful is too kind,” Connor says.
Frederick shifts his papers again. “What words would you use?”
“Heinous, flagrant, egregious, despicable—but even better, he deserves none of my time pondering his actions or what he is. I’ve spent too much on him already.”
Frederick pauses. “You won. He’s in jail. You don’t lose just because you feel from the events, even after they’ve ended.”
Connor looks to me. “This is Rick’s way of telling me to cope with sentiments I can’t understand. He forgets that I’m not like everyone else.” He turns back to Frederick. “I’m not wounded. I’m irritated by the constant need to discuss what’s dead. It helps most people, like Daisy, but I’m not most people.”
I can’t tell who’s right. Maybe they both are. Maybe Connor struggles to reach the bottom of his emotions, ones he truly thinks don’t exist within him. Maybe it’s Frederick’s job to pull them out.
“You’re human,” Frederick tells him. “It’s human to be affected by trauma long after the trauma ends.”
Connor rubs his lips, his agitation more than apparent. “I willingly did what I did. I skewered a rat on my lawn and made him eat himself. I feel justified. We should really be discussing last night’s events.” Before Frederick can speak, Connor asks me, “Did you sleep well?”
“The best I ever could.” I know he can catch the lie in my smile. I pick at a tear in the leather couch cushion.