“Neither can I,” Jenna added before going full-on story topper. “I had an orchid that was so expensive, and I did everything right, but it died. I was out so much money.”
Jenna was a different story. I could understand plants committing suicide to get away from her.
“I don’t understand the point of all that,” Jared, one of the newer group members, tossed in. “I went to a girl’s place and it looked like a jungle. She called them her plant babies—instant bon… er, mood killer.”
Apparently, plant life was a hot topic because the rest of the session was spent in a lively discussion about whether plants were a useful hobby or a messy waste of time. Who knew it would be such an effective diversion, allowing me to sink into the background? I’d have to use my newly gained power for good.
Maybe.
It took Derrick a few tries to settle everyone and get their attention. “Okay, time’s up. To build on this topic, I want you all to use the week to think about something that gives you purpose.”
Easy. The shelter. Bam. Finished my assignment.
“Other than work,” he added.
Damn.
“It could be a hobby. A pet.” He looked at Jared. “Or, yes, even plant babies. Something in your life that relies on you.”
“My hobby is knitting, but it doesn’t rely on me,” Meghan said.
“Sure it does. If you didn’t work on it, it wouldn’t get finished.”
Her head tilted to the side for a moment as she mulled that over before nodding. “You’re right. I never thought of it like that.”
“We’ll talk about it next week,” he finished.
Everyone stood and chatted as they grabbed their belongings.
Meghan looked at me. “Are you coming to the diner?”
I offered what I hoped was a regretful smile. “I wish, but I’ve got errands to run. It’s my only night off.”
Lies, lies, and more lies.
I wished I could flat-out say, I’d never gone before, I wasn’t going then, and I would never go in the future unless hell froze over. But that kind of antisocial behavior wasn’t good for my recovery, mental health, or the supportive bond I was supposed to form with my fellow therapy mates.
She seemed to buy my bullshit. “Next week?”
“Definitely.”
So long as I fall, hit my head, lose my memory, and wake up a different person.
Well, that or some other life altering experience occurs.
Since I’d already gotten out of dinner, I didn’t bother to hang back. My mind was on my couch, my TV, and a bowl of cereal as I headed for the door.
“Briar, can I talk to you for a second?”
Derrick may have only been five to ten years older than me—his sad, cartoon puppy eyes made it hard to tell his exact age—but he wielded a lot of power. Power that, unfortunately, included the ability to make my stomach drop with irrational guilt and enough fear to choke me.
Feeling like a kid who’d been called out by the teacher in front of the class, I did my best to ignore the prying eyes that burned into my skin. It didn’t work, so I settled for just hoping no one could tell I was two seconds away from falling apart.
I’d done nothing wrong.
I’d said nothing wrong.
I’d thought a lot wrong, but he didn’t know that.
Fighting to get air into my lungs, I blanked my expression and turned to face Derrick. He let the silence hang heavy, each ticking second tightening the vise around my stomach and chest.
Once everyone was gone, he finally spoke. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m good.” Though the longer we stood there, the further from the truth that was.
“You didn’t seem yourself when you were telling us about the new place.”
Relieved I wasn’t in trouble, I nearly wilted like all the old flowers in my lobby. “No, everything is fine. There’s just not much to say about it right now.”
“Do you need anything? The center offers a lot of assistance, including programs to help get patients on their feet and settled on their own.”
I shook my head. “I’m really good, promise. I just haven’t decided how to decorate. It’s still bare bones and not very interesting.”
“Moving can be difficult, especially when you’re getting your own place for the first time. There are a lot of things people don’t think of. Decisions, logistics, responsibilities. All that newness. The unknown and unfamiliar… It can add up until even caring for flowers is overwhelming.”
His words came from a good place. An understanding therapist trying to ensure his patient knew she wasn’t alone.
But each panic-inducing word that fell from his stupid mouth sent me closer and closer to the mental edge. Because he was right. It was daunting to go shopping. Even flipping through the countless catalogs that kept showing up in my mailbox was anxiety inducing. Beyond the cost of things—which was stupid high when all was said and done—the seemingly limitless choices were intimidating. Browsing through aisles and aisles or pages and pages of items was a new, fresh torture.
I’d never been on my own. I’d never had to keep track of bills or a budget. I’d never had to decide what I wanted to do with a room.
I didn’t even know what I liked.
How sad was that? To be twenty-one and have no clue what my own preferences were.
Derrick was still talking. Even though the specifics of his words were lost in the blood roaring in my ears, the negative penetrated my mind, sending my panic and anxiety soaring as my sense of self plummeted.
Like a dimmer switch being turned, I could feel myself shutting down. Detaching.
The room seemed eerily quiet except for his voice which had an odd edge to it in my head. Almost like he was speaking through a tin can on a string attached only to my psyche. “Remember, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed or even scared. It can be a difficult transition. The important thing is to reach out if you need help. That’s what I’m here for.”
That’s nice.
He studied me for a moment. “Do you need help?”
I shook my head, desperate for escape. More desperate than I’d ever been, even after one of Dr. Linda’s most intrusive and in-depth sessions.
Reaching out, he squeezed my upper arm. “Good. Moving into your own place and being able to live alone was one of your therapy goals, so it’s important you achieve it. If you change your mind or think of something you need, remember I’m here and can put you in touch with some resources to help.”
That should’ve been comforting. It should’ve been calming. Maybe if I were normal, it would be.
But I wasn’t normal and it wasn’t comforting.
The reminder of my goals made failure lurk over my shoulder, chumming it up with the constant specter of Death.
Dropping his hand, Derrick stepped back. “I’ll let you go so you can run your errands. Let us know what progress you’ve made next week. Maybe share some pictures.”
I wasn’t sure how I looked—whether I was a zombie or if I’d managed to fake a polite smile. I wasn’t even sure I said anything before my wooden legs carried me from the room and out to catch my bus. I felt as if I were dreaming, the edges of my vision and mind hazy. Or maybe floating above myself, watching my body move.