Perfecting Patience

Dr. Jensen, my therapist, said soccer was the best thing for me. For so many years I used the sport as my release. She thought returning to the game was a nice way to start my healing process. So because of that, I ended up enrolling in Florida State. Well, that and the fact that Aunt Sarah and Sydney were quite possibly the pushiest women in the world. Sydney could be quite convincing with her sweet skillful manipulation.

Turns out, running to Aunt Sarah and confessing everything was probably one of the best things I could’ve done. Asking for help wasn’t as easy as you’d think, and when I told her I was positive I was starting to have panic attacks, she was understanding and gentle when she suggested Dr. Jensen.

*

“So how was class and practice yesterday?” Dr. J asked as she tapped her pen on her clipboard.

She crossed her slender legs and directed her blue eyes at me. I’d often thought about how much I admired her blue eyes and fire-red hair. She was older but beautiful, and I liked the fact that she didn’t judge me. Whether or not that was because she was paid to listen to me, she never flinched, never judged, even when I told her every disgusting detail of my life. That was the hardest two weeks of my life.

“It was okay.”

She looked at me over the rim of her sleek black glasses. “As in you barely made it through your week or as in nothing exciting happened?”

She lifted her coffee cup from the mahogany table beside her and took a sip.

Her office wasn’t like those of the quack doctors you see on TV. It was a warm and inviting room with big comfy furniture and a bowl full of chocolate. The woman knew about depression. Nothing could crack a depressed face into a smile like chocolate.

I snatched up a foil-wrapped piece, unwrapped the milky goodness, and popped it into my mouth.

“As in it was good,” I said around a mouthful of heaven. “I let out a lot of steam on the field, and I’ve met quite a few new friends.”

She scribbled on her paper. “Any panic attacks since last week’s session?”

“Nope, none.”

“That’s good.” She scribbled some more. “Any nightmares?”

I tensed up. I hated talking about my nightmares.

“Yes. I had the melting one a few times and the one with him in it.”

I couldn’t even say the word dad anymore. I just referred to him as “him.” That had to be a sign that I was doing not-so-great.

I also didn’t like to talk about his death. As far as Dr. Jensen knew, he had a mental breakdown. I told her the position he held was too much for him and that he took his own life. It was the only lie I told her, but in my mind, that’s exactly what he’d done. Every time he laid his dirty hands on me, he was preparing himself for death. Each touch was like a nail to his coffin, and the girl inside me was just waiting for the moment when she could finally break and destroy him.

Seeing his hands on my little sister was all I needed. I could still remember the sound of the gun, the smell of his blood. That night would mark me for the rest of my days.

*

Later that night, I sat on the phone with Zeke until I fell asleep. It was hard since I missed him so much and I wasn’t sure if it was the new medicine Dr. J put me on or what, but I was suddenly worried about him being around all the rocker chicks. I trusted him with my life, but I knew what kind of guy he was when I met him. Who’s to say that being in love had changed him? I could imagine it was hard for a guy like him to be faced day by day with women throwing themselves at him. He wasn’t used to denying himself anything.

The thoughts of him sleeping with these wild girls made me sick to my stomach, but I had to trust I was doing the right thing.

A few days later, I got a drunken phone call from Zeke in the middle of the night. It didn’t last long and then the phone went dead. That happening didn’t help bury the green-eyed monster that seemed to be following me around. And when I saw an MTV news update about one of their shows and saw a naked woman throw herself at him, that didn’t help much either.

I hated it. I hated seeing the way girls hurled themselves at him. And while I could very clearly see he was nicely pushing them away, I couldn’t help but wonder what happened when there weren’t cameras on him. Did he take any girls back to his hotel room for a quickie?

It wasn’t in Zeke’s nature to go without sex for long periods of time, and while I knew he meant it when he said he loved me, was it enough to make him withstand sex?

The jealousy bug was taking a big bite out of my ass and it was making me crazy. I pulled out my phone and pulled up Zeke’s text messages.