Chapter 15

where is my mind

Now that I realize how much in my life I have to lose—I’ve decided to focus on becoming a better version of the man I’ve been for so long. The date I had with Ronnie exceeded every expectation I could’ve had. It made me realize that I’ve actually got the possibility of a real future with her. However, if I want to enjoy the future, I’ve got to let go of the past. There are so many things I haven’t dealt with, but then again, I haven’t truly faced my brother’s death, I haven’t really acknowledged the painful yearning I have for drugs and alcohol, and I haven’t confronted the lack of faith I have in myself. I’ve been a fuck-up for so long; I don’t know how to be normal. Fuck, I can barely think straight at all sitting here in this room!

This waiting room is suffocating. Neutral colors, empty chairs, and a shit-ton of paperwork that makes me want to run for the door. I feel so fucking claustrophobic as I sit alone—just waiting. The tension in my body is so amplified I feel if someone looks at me the wrong way I’ll fucking explode. My agitation must be obvious because the receptionist keeps shooting me glances as if she thinks I’m some dangerous psychopath. The thought almost makes me laugh. I run a shaky hand through my hair, pulling on the roots to ease some of the tension. I can’t believe I’m doing this. The older woman calls my name and I quickly get up and give her the paperwork I filled out. She gives me a curious once over before directing me toward the elevator.

With my heart in my throat, I enter the elevator and punch the button for the third floor. I’m fidgety as fuck on the ride up; unable to control my pathetic nerves. The elevator’s door opens to a stark white hallway lined with several offices. There’s something so impersonal about it, which makes me feel even more uncomfortable. It looks so fucking sterile—like a fucking hospital. As I walk down the hallway, I search for Dr. Russell’s office and find it at the very end. Dr. Ethan Russell, Ph.D., Clinical Psychologist. I stare at the nameplate on his door for a long time and rehearse what I’m going to say to him. “I’m fine, really. I’ve never been better.”

Finally, I press the doorbell and try to pull myself together. I’m fidgeting by the time he swings open the door, though it really didn’t take him that long for him to answer. He’s a short man with very severe features. He appears sturdy and somewhat reliable. I’m not sure if he looks relatable but he’s not as threatening as I imagined a shrink to be. He introduces himself with a voice that’s strong and unassuming. It takes a moment for my body to catch up with my mind, but I manage to move into his office and find it’s nothing like I imagined a psychologist’s office would look like. There isn’t a couch designated for patients to lie on or any of the shit I’ve seen in movies. Instead, there’s some chairs situated around a table and a desk in the corner with his degrees hanging above it. There are a couple of windows and plants, as if Dr. Russell was trying to make his office look “homey,” but it does nothing to ease my nerves.

“You can take a seat,” he says, gesturing to a chair across from him.

Fuck, I wasn’t even aware he’d sat down, and I was still standing—staring off into space. I take a seat and cross my arms in front of me as he pulls out a journal and a pen before asking me some general questions. He asks why I came to see him; I’m pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. It’s not like I didn’t come here out of my own free will. However, as I sit in front of him, I find it hard to open up. I don’t like talking about myself. Honestly, I’ve never really had to do it much. Anyone in my life has pretty much already accepted me for the fuck-up I am. So, they don’t bother asking me any questions about why I turned out the way I did or what I plan to do with myself in the future. I tell Russell about my brother’s death and becoming Grey’s guardian, but I don’t give much detail and only say what is absolutely necessary.              

“So, have you felt sort of ‘on stage’ since your return?”

I shrug my shoulders, not really understanding his question.

“Do people act nervous around you? Treat your like you’re a dangerous character?” When I don’t answer he looks down at the paperwork I filled out. “I see where you disclosed that you’ve had some trouble with drugs and alcohol in the past.”

Finally, I answer his question. “My parents knew about it when I was in high school, but they’ve got no idea how bad it got before I returned home, here to Evergreen. My mom’s been watching me since I got back. Constantly waiting for me to fuck-up. I’ve changed since then. I’ve had to. She just doesn’t understand that.”

“She believes you’ll go back to your old habits?”

I give him a curt nod and sit up a bit straighter in my seat. “She suspects I will. I’ve been clean since I’ve returned so she has no reason to be breathing down my neck.”

“Do you think that has something to do with you taking care of your nephew?”

“Yeah and I can understand her concern, but it’s just so fucking annoying. How can a person be expected to change, when everyone in their life is waiting for them to fail? She treats me as if I’ve failed already.”

“Do you think about alcohol?”

“All the time,” I say honestly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m drinking. I wouldn’t do that to Grey. He needs me.”

“Have you considered becoming part of a group. Sometimes it helps to be around people who are dealing with the same problems. You stated you don’t believe you were a true alcoholic, but say you’ve abused it for years. Do you think A.A. could be beneficial to you?”              

I don’t want to stand in front of a group of strangers and talk about my issues. I’m not one of them. I’m able to let it go and move on. I haven’t fucking relapsed yet and don’t think I ever will. “Maybe,” I finally say, unable to really stomach the idea.

“Your brother died recently?”

“He died in a car accident with his wife. They were hit by a drunk driver and I’ve been taking care of their son ever since.”

“Do you like caring for the boy?”

“Yes, I love Greyson.” Just saying his name calms me down significantly. “To say it’s been difficult would be an understatement. I’ve turned my entire life around for him, and I still feel like I’m lacking in some way. Everything feels like an uphill battle and I can’t see it ever getting easier. It doesn’t help that I’ve got a mother who’s constantly watching me and waiting for me to fail.”

“Do you feel as if your parents aren’t giving you a fair chance to succeed?”

“I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve given them every reason to not trust me, so I guess I shouldn’t blame them for their cautious behavior. It’s just so hard to do the right thing when everyone is expecting you to fail anyway. I’ve been working full-time and it’s still hard to make ends meet. My mother just treats it like it’s one big joke. I think she wants me to fail so she can take Grey.”

He stares at me for a long moment before asking, “Haven’t you received some sort of compensation? Greyson should be entitled to benefits after the death of both of his parents.”

I stare at him, feeling so fucking foolish all of a sudden. Why didn’t I look into any of that? Grey being eligible for benefits never occurred to me and I feel like a complete idiot because of that. Of course, my brother would’ve made sure his son was financially looked after. Maybe I was just too busy to even consider it. Fuck, I need to pull my head out of my ass.

“I haven’t looked into it,” I finally mutter.

Dr. Russell nods and there’s not a single bit of judgment on his face as he observes me. “So, Trevor, what are you looking to get out of these sessions? There must be some reason why you’ve wanted to talk to me that goes deeper than dealing with your brother’s death.”

I think for a moment, unable to verbalize what I want since I barely know myself. Finally, I force myself to speak without overthinking things. “I want to feel in control. I’ve never felt like I’ve had control over anything in my life.”

“That’s difficult,” Russell says without apology. “Control will be a difficult thing for you to work on—I won’t lie to you. How about we start with appointments twice a week? That’s my recommendation”

Twice a week? I can’t possibly need that. “I have a full-time job and Grey to care for…”              

“Well, you can bring him with you to the appointments if you need to,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I don’t know. I think once a week would be sufficient.”

He studies me for a moment, before acquiescing. “I don’t know if seeing each other once a week will be a sufficient amount of time to work on your control issues, but if that’s what you feel comfortable with, then that’s where we’ll start. We can always re-evaluate things down the line. You can talk to Ms. Martin at the reception desk to schedule your appointment for next week. I think our consultation went well,” he pauses as he stands up, extending out his hand to shake mine. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Warren.”

I shake his hand before turning to leave his office. I walk onto the elevator feeling just as unsure of myself as I did when I got here. I’m still not optimistic about seeing a therapist, but at least I know it’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. It just feels so strange to discuss my problems with a complete fucking stranger. However, it’s also soothing in a way because I know he doesn’t care enough to judge me. I can vent to him with no repercussions. The only hard part is letting go of my pride and opening up. I’ve always been a suffer in silence type, constantly wanting to deal with my problems on my own. I believe I had the strength to deal with anything and everything, but now I see that’s obviously not true. I never genuinely dealt with my problems, I just brushed them under the rug and tried to forget about them.

I schedule an appointment for next week and head out. I drive to my parents’ house in silence. I couldn’t stomach listening to music for some reason. It sounded like garbled noise I didn’t feel like hearing. Instead, I listened to the rain splatter against my windshield and the whoosh of my windshield wipers as they push the rain-drops away. It’s a soothing sound and I feel as though I’m completely invisible to the outside world as the rain pours down around me. Just mentioning my brother was like picking at a raw wound. I just need to grab Grey, go home, and focus on something other than the residual pain I’m feeling.

I don’t know how I managed to get to my parents’ house—but I did. As soon as I walk up to the door, I promise myself I’ll be in and out as quickly as possible. I’m too weary to have a conversation with my mother. I really need to find solace in being alone. My mother seems to be on the same page because as soon as she sees me she doesn’t start prattling on about something completely meaningless. Hell, in all honesty, she just doesn’t like to fucking talk to me. I don’t know why I even worry about her wanting me to sit down and have some drawn-out conversation with her. She agreed to watch Grey again today with no questions asked and doesn’t seem to care where I’ve been or what I’ve been up to when I come to pick him up.

“You keep bringing him over here in the same couple of outfits,” Mother complains as she hands me Grey’s things. “Don’t you think you should go shopping for him, Trevor, or is that something that’s completely eluded you?”

Why does she constantly want to start shit with me? “No, Mother. It’s not something that has ‘eluded me.’ I buy stuff for him all the time I guess I just haven’t thought about buying him new clothes lately since these still fit him just fine.”

She rolls her eyes and hands him to me. He looks more than happy to see me. “Dean used to buy things for him all of the time. You’d never see Greyson in the same outfit twice because he and his wife would shop for him constantly. They certainly weren’t going to lavish restaurants while their child wasn’t getting all of his needs met.”

God, I do not fucking need this today. Lavish restaurants? I went out on one fucking date and my mother’s seriously going to have an issue with it? I bust my ass to care and provide for Grey all the time. Shit, most of my clothes have holes in them because I don’t want to buy new ones when I’ve got a baby to buy for. I don’t even know what to say to her. It’s like she’s just looking for something to start an argument over with me.

“I’ll buy him some new outfits, Mother.” Before I can leave, I’ve got to add, “You could do that, too, you know? You’re his grandmother, after all. Isn’t that what grandmother’s do? You’re throwing giant parties all of the time and I’m struggling to get by, and you’re honestly going to throw that up at me like you’re unable to help Grey?”              

“I lost my son and you have the nerve to question whether I love my grandbaby?” she asks, completely obtuse to what my point really is.

“I lost him, too! And now I’m taking care of his son. I know you love Grey, I didn’t say you didn’t. All I’m saying is you could help out if you wanted to with a few of those expenses.”

See, that’s reasonable enough. Grey’s becoming fussy in my arms and I know he can definitely sense something’s amiss between two of the people he loves.

“I do help out, Trevor. You’ve always—”

“Hey, son. How was your date?” Dad asks as he steps into the room and cuts my mother off. She straightens up her posture and puts a smile on her face—instantly a changing her appearance. No wonder my dad never sees the grief she gives me—the hate she has for me—because she puts on such a good act.

“It was great, Dad. Thanks for the recommendation. Ronnie and I loved the restaurant.”

Dad gives me a genuine smile and my mom gives me a tight one, obviously not happy with the fact that my dad helped me out. “That’s amazing, Trevor. Is there going to be a second date then?”

I can’t help but flush a little bit. I feel so fucking young whenever I talk to my dad about Ronnie. It makes me feel so vulnerable for some reason because he’s the only one who knows how deeply I feel for her. What if things don’t work out between us? It’s going to be so fucking embarrassing to have to explain it to him.

“I was thinking about taking Grey to the pumpkin patch since it just opened to let him pick out one to paint or something. I thought I’d ask Ronnie to come along with us.”

“That’s a great idea, son. Women love doing that sort of thing.”

I wonder what type of dates he used to take my ice queen of a mother on. I honestly can’t see her being satisfied by much of anything. Speaking of her not being satisfied with much, she definitely doesn’t seem satisfied by the fact that I’m still here. She keeps giving me this look that suggests she’d be happy if I left. Obviously, she has some sort of plan with dad and my presence is interfering with her having a good time.

“I better get going. I’ll see you guys tomorrow after I get off work.”

Grey’s as eager to get out of here as I am. As I’m placing him in his car seat, I find he doesn’t want me to buckle him up. Every time I try to put him in his seat, he begins to cry and only calms when I hold him closer to me. I promise him that once we get home I’ll spend the rest of the day with him. While I know he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, he does perk up at the sound of my voice long enough for me to place him safely in his car seat. Before we take off, I call Ronnie, wanting to ask her about tomorrow before I overthink things too much.

“Hey, Trev. How’d the appointment go?” she asks as soon as she picks up the call.

Grey squeals at the sound of her voice as it comes through on speaker-phone. He looks around as if he were trying to find her. God, I’m so happy this boy loves my girl. He needs a good mother figure and while that’s not the reason I’m with her, I know she’d love to fill that role for him and she’d be fucking awesome at it.

“It was fine,” I finally say, before adding with a chuckle, “Sorry, Grey’s freaking out in the backseat. He’s just really excited to hear your voice.”

“Aw,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Well, you should bring him over tonight. I’d love to make dinner for my guys.”

“My guys.” Fuck, I love that.

“That’d be great,” I say, and my stomach grumbles on cue. “Actually, I was calling to ask about tomorrow. I was thinking about taking Grey to a pumpkin patch and was wondering if you’d wanted to come along with us…?”

“Trev, I’d do anything with you.”

She’d do anything with me. I can’t begin to describe how her words make me feel.