“You’re okay, right?”

The worried expression on her face makes me want to smile, but I hold back. I don’t know, something about her being genuinely worried about me makes me feel all warm inside, as sick as that is.  “Yeah, I’m good,” I say quietly.  “Just thinking about some things.”

She nods, but doesn’t question me about it.  I know she understands I have a million things running through my mind at any given moment.  A few more minutes pass, and we start running again.  Neither of us says anything, I think its more relaxing this way.  I can just let my mind empty…just focus on the trees and the sky…the morning mist falling on my face.  It’s nice.  I don’t think I’ve realized just how much I’d missed doing this up until now.  Its uncanny that Mel seemed to know this was what I needed to start doing.  I mean, how could she? She doesn’t know that side of me…the normal side.  It makes me wonder what she’s really all about…how she knows exactly what to do…what to say.  But I wont ask questions.  I can’t.

It terrifies me.

We run around for about an hour more, before heading back into the house.  I flop down onto the sofa, exhausted, while Melanie goes into the kitchen, returning to me a little while later with some freshly made lemonade. I swear to god I have no idea where this woman learned her homemaking abilities, but she’s incredible.  With the way she prepares our meals and surprises me with the little things she whips up, half the time I swear I’m back home with my family.  Maybe it’s her intention.  She’s seemed to be doing it a lot more since I explained to her how I was afraid to go home.  It’s almost sweet…but I wont really let the feeling sink in all that much.  I just go with it, and I’m really beginning to enjoy it.  It’s probably the first time I’ve let myself enjoy something in forever.  It’s good for me I guess.   Takes me away from the bulk of my anxiety.

“One Life to Live is coming on soon!,” she positions herself next to me and grabs the remote before I can stop her. 

“Do we really have to watch this crap?,” I complain, as I always do.  The one thing I can’t stand about Mel, is her fetish for soap operas.  She has an ongoing schedule of all the different ones she watches.  I don’t see what the big deal is.  The story lines are so fake and unbelievable, I can’t imagine why a smart girl like Melanie would be drawn to them.  I thought old ladies and my mom were the only people that chose to indulge themselves in that crap.  But Melanie really seems to enjoy herself while she watches them, Soap Opera Digest in hand, zombie-like expression on her face.  It’s something I’ve been growing accustomed to, ever since I opened up and started allowing her to hang out with me in the house.  I could be a real jerk and tell her I refuse to sit through that pointless bullshit with her, but I just…can’t.  I feel like she deserves to do what she wants to.  If I really didn’t want to watch this stuff, I could just go upstairs…

But I like being with her.

“We do,” she tells me sternly.  “Because according to this magazine, today is the day we find out who really killed Jackie.”

From what I can tell, Jackie had a lover and a husband, and one of them killed her last season.  This season has obviously been based on finding out who the real killer is…one drawn out story line to the next.  Still, I choose not to complain anymore.  I just snicker and sink back into the comforts of my leather sofa with my lemonade,  while the familiar theme song of One Life To Live blares through the TV set.  We talk a little bit during commercials.  Melanie tells me she wants to go site seeing one of these days, that she hasn’t been in this area all that much and doesn’t really know what it offers.  I tell her good luck, because there’s no way I’m going to go walking around downtown Los Angeles with a paparazzi photographer watching every street corner.  She kind of rolls her eyes and nudges me a little bit, but it makes me smile because I know she gets it.  She doesn’t bug me, she expects that kind of an attitude from me.  And I’ll admit it now.  It’s great to have her here.

It’s great but I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Halfway into Melanie’s next soap, I find myself dozing off.  I don’t know why, I’m not really that tired.  I guess I’m just so relaxed that my brain is giving me the green light to let loose for awhile.  Really, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve felt so content, so…safe, here in my house.  Sure, my alarm system kind of calms me down, but its nowhere near as comforting than having somebody else here beside me…who I know can calm me down with the simple touch of her hand on my shoulder.  My eyes start to get heavy, and finally…I allow myself to slip into total snooze mode.  The sound of the television eventually becomes non existent, and I don’t even realize how long I’ve been out before I feel something nudging me, and a soft voice pleading with me to wake up.  Reluctantly, my mind forces me to slowly open my eyes.  I’m confused when I find Mel hovering over me, a concerned expression in eyes.  “Huh?”  I reach up to wipe the sliver of drool that’s escaped from my mouth.

“Justin, your mom is here.”

Now I’m wide awake.  I jerk myself upright.  How is this possible? She said she was coming in a week.  I just spoke with her the other night.  Why the hell would she be here now?  “What do you mean, she’s here?”

Melanie shrugs, and straightens herself.  She starts to pace back and forth in front of me and I realize that I’m not the only one who’s been surprised here.  “I don’t know! She’s just…she’s just here.  She’s getting her stuff out of the taxi.  She said…she decided to come a little bit early.”

“A little bit early?”  I take a long breath inward.  “Try a week.”

She just shrugs.  I can tell now, this is really bothering her, and as I glance around my house I can sort of see why.  It’s pretty much a mess.  Mel and I have been spending so much time going for runs and walks, watching movies and just getting to know each other that we’ve both pretty much neglected cleaning up after ourselves.  Or..at least I have.  I can’t really speak for the guest house Mel is staying in, because I don’t even go in there. The one thing I do know is, this isn’t going to look good to my mom.  Me getting better means taking care of my house and shit like that.  I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say.  But hey, maybe she wont care that much.  Maybe if I just put on my best of happy faces and pretend that everything is going fantastic she’ll just leave well enough alone.

“You’re a sweaty mess,” Melanie snaps at me.  “Just…go upstairs and change or something.”  She rubs a hand over her face.

Somehow, I manage to keep my cool.  I rise off the sofa and stand before her.  She stares up at me then, looking into my eyes for an answer.  Tell me what to do, Justin.  And for the first time, I feel like I’m the one who needs to make things right, I’m the one who’s responsible for how things pan out.  It’s necessary that I’m strong right now…for both of us.  Otherwise Melanie will be sent packing, and I’ll end up exactly where I don’t want to be.  “Look, it’ll be okay,” I tell her softly, gently placing a hand on one of her shoulders.  “I’ll handle this.”

She seems shocked, and opens her mouth to say something else…probably about how I can’t even take care of myself so how can I play Prince Charming to my mother about what’s been going on.  But she doesn’t get the chance.  I hear the chimes on my door go off, signifying somebody has entered the house.  The sound of my mother’s voice follows almost immediately.  I take a breath then, and give Mel’s shoulder another reassuring rub, trying to promise her that I wont give anything away.  Then I turn around, and I see her.  My mom doesn’t really look different from any other time I’ve seen her.  Her hair is the same, clothes are the same.  Her face has a lot more color though.  She looks rested…like she just woke up from a really long nap and she’s ready to conquer the world.  She looks a lot like I used to after sleeping for a couple of days after the end of a long tour.  I almost envy her, and it makes me upset to know that she looks so rested because she’s had a break from my issues. But I know she deserves this.  She put up with so much for so long…longer than anybody should have to.

It’s should make me feel good to know that she’s going to be just fine.

“Hey mommy.” I take the initiative, and decide to break the ice first.  There’s nothing worse than standing in a room with your mother, who is staring awkwardly back at you.  I walk right up to her and pull her into a long hug.  After a moment I feel her arms wrap around me in return, and I know any discomfort she might have been feeling has passed.  I pull back from her, and make sure to give her a kiss on the cheek before flashing her a charming smile.  “I thought you were coming next week.”  I hear Mel clear her throat at that comment, but I had to sneak it in.  I just need to know that my mom came out here for the right reasons, and if she didn’t I want to know why that is.

“Well I got back from Orlando, and I didn’t have much to do at home,” she smiles a little nervously and pulls away from me.  “I was driving Paul up a wall, so he told me I should just come out here and spend some time with you.  That’s okay, I hope.”

I wish I could tell her that it’s not okay.  That…I’m sort of bonding with Melanie and we’ve been doing our own thing.  That…her being here is going to make Mel act all weird and we wont be able to talk and run and shit for awhile.  But I can’t say that stuff to my mom.  She’s still concerned.  She still cares.  And most importantly, she’s Melanie’s boss too and I’m sure she wants to talk her just as much as she wants to spend some time with me.  Is my mom prying though? Is she here to talk me into things I don’t want to do again? Does she suspect something? Is she going to take Melanie aside and try to pry things out of her?  Will Mel give in? God, I’m starting to worry too much. But…I just can’t help it.  It’s hard to trust my mom after all the threats she’s made about me going back to Tennessee, or me readmitting myself.  Of course she means well, but sometimes her plans of action just aren’t the best thing for me.

“Yeah, of course,” I bullshit instead of telling her how I really feel, as always. 

She glances around a little bit, and I’m sure she’s not appreciating the mess that is my living room, with the pizza boxes and dirty clothes thrown around.  I watch her gaze land on Melanie for the shortest of seconds, before she finally smiles at me again.  “Have you showered? I thought we might be able to go to lunch or something.  If you’re not up to it though, I can understand.  I didn’t exactly announce myself.”

“No it’s okay.  I’m…the living room’s a mess and it’s my fault,” I chuckle nervously and glance over at Melanie.  She’s sort of looking at her fingernails, picking at them and not looking at either of us.  I know she’s  uncomfortable.  But I’m trying the best I can.  “I’ve been going for runs with Melanie, and making her run errands for me a lot so we haven’t really gotten to clean up or anything.”

“Don’t be silly.  I know you’ll get it cleaned up eventually, honey.”

She smiles at me, but it’s the fakest thing I’ve ever seen.  I know my mother, inside and out, and when she’s aggravated or annoyed I can sense it from a mile away.  I have the sickest feeling that Melanie is going to be getting a lecture later on, and I wish I could do something to prevent it.  But I know my mom would never hint that she was going to do it, and she certainly wouldn’t do it in a place I could hear it, or see it.  I guess I just have to hope that Melanie is strong enough to take it.  But I don’t see why she wouldn’t be.  That girl is as tough as they come.  Tougher than I’ve ever been.  And its why I constantly find myself stuck with questions about her…why I constantly find myself thinking about her.

“Was your flight okay?”

My attention is immediately reverted to Melanie, who has just decided to speak up.  It kind of surprises me, but I also know this is an attempt for her to get on my moms good side fast.  She’s smiling that pleasant smile of hers.  The one she used to use on me when she first came here.

“It was fine,” my mother responds a little too quickly to her, and I notice that it makes Melanie draw any further emotion about my mothers well being back inside of her.  “Justin why don’t you get ready, and I’ll let you know when I’m settled so we can have a nice lunch.”

“Uh, okay…”  I look at Melanie, who once again has resorted back to picking at her nails.  “Melanie, do you want to…”

“Oh, I thought the two of us could just go,” my mom intervenes before I can finish.  “I have a few things I need to talk to you about, just between us.”

Awkward.

“It’s okay, Justin.” Melanie says immediately, that bright smile of hers quickly replacing her lost expression.  “I have a few things I need to do around here anyway.”

“Yes,” My mom says, the disapproval in her voice really showing this time.  “That’s a good idea.”

I have a headache.  “But mom…”

“Give me an hour.” She gives me another quick kiss and picks her suitcase up from the floor.  “I’ll get settled and then I’ll come find you.  Melanie…” she pauses again and turns to my friend.  “Be a dear and give Eric a call.  Tell him Justin and I will be going out and we’ll need him to drive us.”

“Sure.”  She nods a little and hurries away before I can try and persuade her to wait. 

My eyes follow her as she wanders into the kitchen, and I’m sure my mom notices, but I don’t care.  “Look, don’t be mad at her about the mess.  I told you…”

“Justin.” She strokes my cheek gently.  “Nobody is mad at anybody.  I don’t want you to worry about anything right now. Melanie has a job to do, and she knows what it is.”

“But…”

“Shh.  Now I’m going to go get ready, and we can talk about whatever you want to when we get to the restaurant okay?”

I sigh in frustration.  She’s talking to me like I’m five years old right now, and she knows how much I hate that.  But I don’t feel like flying into a rage right now, or showing her how upset she’s making me.  So I just nod, and barely hear her as she rambles off something about ‘an hour’ and ‘a shower’.  I just sit back down on the couch and take in everything that’s happened for a few moments.  Mom is here.  She obviously doesn’t think Melanie is doing a good job, and now I’m going to have to sit through lunch with her, lying about what’s been going on…about my feelings.  Hell, at least I can tell her I’m going to Madison’s on Monday.  Then again, who knows if that will even help?  She’ll probably get into the subject about coming home again.  A subject that I’m just so tired of talking about, that I’m afraid I might just give in if I get frustrated enough.  Just as I start to lose all hope, put my head in my hands and tell myself that I’m doomed to have my life run for me, I feel a burst of air blow by me and look up in time to see Melanie rushing by me.  “Hey.”  She doesn’t answer so I get up and follow her.  “Melanie.”

She walks outside.

I don’t relent.  Normally I would.  Over the past couple of weeks I’ve learned that when she needs alone time, its exactly that…alone time.  But right now I’m so confused, and I’m sure she’s upset.  I feel like it’s my fault.  Partially because it’s my mother that’s making her feel bad right now, but mostly because I’m the one who threw a fit…broke stuff, and made her feel the need to put everything else off to the side so I could get better.  The condition of the house suffered, but only because my mom said she was coming next week. I’m sure Mel had plans to do a heavy duty cleaning, but my mom showed up totally unexpected.  “Melanie.”  I grasp her by the wrist as she  opens the door to the guest house.  “Come on, just stop it.”

She whirls around, immediately pushing me away from her.  “Don’t grab me,” she says harshly.

I bite my bottom lip.  “Sorry.”

“Look, your mom is here,” she says, a few awkward moments later.  “Just go get ready.  You don’t want her to catch us out here like this.  She’ll ask too many questions.”

“Like what?” I scoff.  “It’s not a bad thing that we’re becoming friends, Mel.  I think she‘d be sort of happy.”

She puts a foot inside her doorway.  “Maybe it is a bad thing.  I mean, your mom hired me to help out around the house and make sure you take your medication, not to be your shrink or your mentor.  Right now she probably thinks all I‘ve been doing is sitting around the house, not to mention the fact that she doesn’t know about your medication.  I‘ve been doing everything wrong, Justin.  I just…this is wrong.  I‘m going to have to tell her…”

“Hey.” I step up to her, the fear apparent on my face. “You…you can’t. We agreed…you promised.  I‘ve been doing my part, Mel.”

“She’s upset, Justin.  How is lying going to make things better?”  She shakes her head, and rubs a stray tear off of her cheek.  “I’m not cut out for this.  It’s getting too personal.  I wasn’t hired to be your friend.”

“Too personal?,” I let out an annoyed laugh and back away from her a little.  “Getting personal is a two way road Mel.  That means you’d have to share some aspects of your life with me, which you haven’t done.  I think…you’re just scared.”

“Scared?,” she snaps.  “What the hell do I have to be scared of, Justin?”

“I can see right through you,” I say, despite the fact that I know I shouldn’t be crossing this kind of a line with her.  “You don’t have a lot of friends, if any.  You don’t let people in.  And you certainly don’t try to help them with their problems like you’ve been helping me with mine.  I know you’re a nurses aid and everything, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve been playing a hell of a lot more than your part lately. Now you’re scared that…that you might want to confide in me or something.”

“You’re wrong.”  She grits her teeth, and I can tell she’s trying as hard as she can to hold her tears back.  “I’m not hiding anything from you, and I don’t know why you’d even think that I am. We have some things in common, and we get along for the most part, that’s all it is.  I’m not who you think I am, Justin.  I’m not one of your close friends.  I’m just here, and you have nobody else so I can understand why you think I’m so great.  But just…it needs to stop.  I’m not going to tell your mom anything, all right?  I just think we need to keep what we have professional and stop getting so personal, that’s all.”

“After what’s gone on I can’t understand why you’re acting like we shouldn’t’ have bonded,” I say sadly.  I’m hurt.  I really thought we had a connection going on.  That I could trust her, and that she could trust me.  That she was becoming a friend.  A close one.  I was starting to forget about Trace a little, and I was really starting to forget about Kerri.  I didn’t feel I needed to think about them as long as I was having fun with Melanie, but she’s just acting so weird right now.  Like she doesn’t care.  Like she never has.  Like she wouldn’t be upset if I left tomorrow with my mom and she never saw me again.  I look at her again.  Right in her eyes.  There’s no emotion there now.  She’s buried it all inside, like I’m so good at doing from time to time.  She doesn’t want me to know how she really feels.  And for the first time something is pulling at me, nagging me…

Telling me that she’s been through something horrible too.

“Mel…come on…”

“I’m not doing this right now.  Just go get ready,” she says, using that stone cold tone she always does when she needs me to act my age and do what I’m told.  I thought that version of her was gone, but I guess I was horribly mistaken.  “You need to focus on what’s important right now.”

I open my mouth to tell her that her friendship is important to me, but she walks inside and closes the door before I can get a word out.  Normally I’d get pissed and bang on the door, but right now…I’m just too confused to bother.  I need to think about everything she just said…and try to figure it out, figure her out.  I just don’t get it.  She seemed happy, we were having fun, and then when my mom showed up it was like this big reality check.  It’s like she can’t be my friend because she’s afraid of what my mom would think.  But I know my mom wouldn’t’ disapprove or anything.  She’d be happy that I’m trying to form new relationships and move on.  I just don’t get it.  I don’t get her.

I guess there’s a lot more to Melanie than I originally thought.  Maybe too much more.

I figure giving her the space she needs for a few hours will probably do her some good.  Although I haven’t experienced this kind of a mood from Mel all that often, I know she’s the type that cools off best when she’s left alone for awhile, like me.  Besides, I am a ‘sweaty mess’, as she so lovingly put it, and as annoying as it is, a part of me sort of wants to go to lunch with my mom.  It will be nice to catch up, find out how the other members of my family have been doing and stuff like that.  I’d also like to be filled in about what my label and my management thinks of my extended hiatus.  They know better than to call me of course, so they’ve just been using my mother as a communication gopher up until this point.  In all likelihood they’ll probably drop me.  But I just don’t care.  I’m not ready to work again, and I have no idea when I’ll be ready to.  All I know is, when I am, it wont be very hard for me to get started again.  I’m not even worried about it.  All I’m really worried about at the moment is what’s happening to my family, and…what’s happening between me and Melanie.

I shower quickly and throw on some jeans and a polo shirt, not really caring how I  look.  I glance in the mirror, knowing I could use a shave but not really caring either.  For the first time, it doesn’t matter to me that I don’t look clean cut for my mom.  I even look a little tired, but I don’t know…I’ve just decided its time to be myself.  Despite the fact I’ve done a lot of things that she can’t know about, I know the more fake I act the more suspicious she’s going to get.  So I just go downstairs and wait for her.  Thirty minutes later she comes down to the living room herself, and about ten minutes later Eric knocks on the door. I’m grateful.  From the expression on her face I know she was about to start having some kind of heart to heart with me, and I kind of want to avoid that…at least until we’re at the restaurant and I have no choice.
I joke around with Eric as he walks my mother and I out to the car, and as she gets in, I steal a glance at the guest house quickly, hoping that just maybe…I’ll get a glimpse of Mel before I’m forced to get in the car.  I don’t see her of course, so I just sigh and get in.

“You okay?”  My mom looks at me with concern, and rubs my knee a little bit.

“Yeah,” I force a small smile, and fasten my seat belt.  “I’m okay, mom.”
****************
I called Susan yesterday, like a desperate fucking idiot. I didn’t really know why I was calling her, but at the same time I knew I needed to talk to somebody. I hate calling my mom. All she ever does is tell me I need to hold my head high, and be the strong willed, independent woman she knows I’ve always been. It doesn’t help hearing that from her. All it really says to me is that she’s busy, like always, and she doesn’t have time to listen to me gripe and bitch about how insecure I am. Of course Susan doesn’t mind me calling her. When I left the home she told me she wanted me to call her anytime I wanted to talk. I don’t know, I guess when I call her I feel like I’m taking a step back. That I can’t handle shit. That I’m not past things. When I feel like I’m still not past things it makes me angry…it makes me remember too. And I hate remembering.

I hate remembering the smells, the sounds, what he looked like, what he sounded like. How he felt. How it felt. For months at a time I’ll be okay too. I’ll basically forget, because I’ll be busy taking care of things, or working. I guess I force myself to forget. It’s just sometimes…when things like…like Justin confuse me, I get depressed. And that leads to the memories. It makes me mad because Susan taught me how to fight all of that, how to be strong. But I don’t know. It was so hard to push the memories back the other day. I was so down. I felt like such an idiot. I felt like…I’d let my guard down. That I let Justin take advantage…get too close, after I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anybody do that to me ever again. Why him? He’s just another guy. Another guy that gets on my nerves most of the time. Why am I starting to let him crack me open, let him see the real me?

Why do I want to fall into his arms and hug him half the time?

I didn’t tell Susan who I was working for. One of the things I promised Lynn was, with the exception of my mom, I wouldn’t tell anybody else that I was working for her and helping Justin out. I understood why. If that information got to the wrong person, it could cause all kinds of problems. So I just told her my latest patient was some young guy, who I was helping to get himself together again. She asked me if I was comfortable working with another male, and I was truthful. I told her that I was scared to death half the time that he would turn into a horrible, violent person just like the man who raped me. But she didn’t say I was crazy…she said it was natural. I knew she was right. I mean, Justin is the first guy I’ve been around in five years. Weird, I know, but I’ve been too terrified to be around any guys up until now. And even now, I’m still scared, I’m just forcing myself to be here for Lynn’s sake…and for my mothers reputation. I can’t even begin to imagine what my mom would say to me if I got fired or I quit this job. Probably something along the lines of ‘you’re a failure, Melanie,’ and ‘when are you going to learn to grow up and put things behind you? I did it.’.

I try to love my mother. I really do. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the rape…and a few other things, I’d doubt we’d even have the relationship that we do right now, and that isn’t saying much. The only thing I can really thank my mother for, as far as my recovery goes, is bringing Susan into my life. Because without her, I wouldn’t even be here right now. I’d be in a mental ward someplace. Or…

I’d just be dead.

After my mother had reamed me out about failing my finals at college, and taking time away from her precious schedule, she didn’t seem to have a choice but to bring me back to her home, which at the time was in New York City. She had a really nice apartment there. She lived alone, but she was also never home most of the time to care about the emptiness. She brought me there so I could ‘get my head together’, so to speak. At first I was okay with it. I knew college wasn’t going to work out for that moment, and hell, I hadn’t even told anybody that I was raped then. I figured living at her place would allow me time to think things over, and decide what I really needed. My mom didn’t stick around long. She had shoot after shoot in New York, and a month later she left for Europe for a three week shoot in Spain. She called me every week, something that I was pretty surprised about. She tried to make an effort with those calls too. She’d always ask me what really happened…why I’d flunked out of college. I just couldn’t tell her though. I didn’t feel right telling her how nasty I thought I was over the phone, so I figured when she came home I’d have plenty of time to break down and tell her everything.

Unfortunately, that time didn’t come soon enough.

As I would sit in her silent apartment, day after day, night after night, I couldn’t help but let myself dwell on the horrible things that had happened to me. I’d blame myself, I kept asking myself how I could have let something like that happen. How could I have let somebody like that ruin my entire life? Why couldn’t I have simply gotten over it and gotten my degree? I came to the conclusion that I was stupid. I made myself believe that. I was stupid and I would never amount to anything. What was I worth? Why was I making life harder for my mother, who had never wanted anything to do with me in the first place? I figured if I was dead, nobody would miss me. If I was dead, nobody would have to worry about me anymore. There would be an empty spot on the roster for my university, and my mom could live her life the way she’d always wanted to.

There was a magnificent medicine cabinet in my mother’s bathroom. When I first moved into the apartment I’d loved to go in there and shower, because the bathroom was so much bigger than mine. One night I decided to go exploring. In tears, bottle of vodka in my hand, I’d moved about the house. The walls had been waving, in and out, like some weird concrete jungle. When I touched them, I would fall to the ground and spill my vodka so I tried my best to make my way into the big bathroom without touching them so much. When I got there, I opened the medicine cabinet. I wanted some candy, I remember that. I have no idea why I thought there would be candy in there. But I was so out of it, I don’t know why I was thinking half the things that I was. I just know I felt really bad. I needed something to cheer me up, and I remembered that when I was a little girl and I was sad, my grandmother, who was always so strict, would try to cheer me up with some mints. I wanted to feel that way then. I wanted to feel loved a little bit. So I took some container out of the medicine cabinet and poured a handful of what I thought was candies into my hand. The better part of me had been warning me not to take it. I didn’t care though. I figured if it wasn’t candy at least I’d get to sleep…something I hadn’t really done since I’d been raped. I took the handful of whatever it was, along with a mouthful of liquor.

I slept for a long time.

When my mom had really bad jet lag after a week working in god knows where, she had a lot of trouble getting to sleep. So much trouble, that her doctor prescribed her some strong sleeping medication, only to be taken in those instances when she really couldn’t get to sleep of course. The drunken slob that I was, had managed to swallow about nine of those pills. I don’t know why I lived. I really should have died. My mom had called shortly after I passed out, and I guess when I didn’t answer she got worried. Yeah worried, for the first time in my life. She called the lady next door, who had a spare key. She found me passed out on the floor. When I woke up the nurse told me she was surprised I didn’t have brain damage. She told me what happened. I wasn’t really shocked. I think deep inside, I knew exactly what I wanted to do that night.

I just didn’t count on my mom taking the kind of action she did.

My mom pretty much panicked. She didn’t know what was wrong with me. As far as she was concerned I’d gone fucking crazy. So, on advice from the people at the hospital, she decided to admit me to a state funded mental hospital. It was pretty bad. I was doped up on medication and strapped to the bed for the first couple of nights. I didn’t like it. It reminded me of being held down, knife to my throat, and I really couldn’t take it. I would cry all day and all night. It was the most communication I allowed myself to make at first. Then my doctor told me if I just told him what was wrong, he’d be able to help me, but until I did he wouldn’t know why I’d tried to hurt myself. It took me awhile…a couple of more days, but I finally reasoned with myself. I wanted out of that place and so, I figured if I just told the guy what was on my mind I’d be able to go someplace else.

So I did.

I think the best feeling I’ve ever felt, even now, years later, was telling somebody about what happened. I’d just closed my eyes and recounted the horrible memories of that night, to a doctor I can’t even remember the name of now that I think about it. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I could breathe again. I could walk around, and it didn’t feel like gravity was drilling me into the ground anymore. Finally, I’d rested my problems on somebody else, and I didn’t feel badly about doing it. After I told the doctor, I slept some more. But it was natural this time, and I wasn’t strapped to a bed or locked in the severe threat ward of that horrible hospital. I was placed in sort of a holding area until my mother could return to the hospital for a consultation, with my promise that I would take care of myself until then.

A week later my mom came back, and the doctor went through a list of options that he’d conjured up for me. A lot of the places he wanted to send me were like retreats up in the mountains, where you rode horses and learned how to care for other things. I didn’t really want to do that, and I think for the first time ever my mother took my interests to heart. She asked if there was something more mellow, more mainstream. A place I could grow but have a life too. That’s when he told us about the group home, and Susan. He said it wasn’t a place designed specifically for victims of rape, which concerned him because it had effected me so dramatically. But he said that it sounded like a place that would eventually suit my lifestyle. I didn’t care. I just wanted out of that hospital, so I agreed that I’d go there.

It had been hard adjusting. The group home had been filled with all kinds of women. Most of them I couldn’t even relate to. Some were drug addicts, most were women who had escaped abusive relationships. I only met one or two that had been actual rape victims. Susan turned out to be one of them. I guess that’s why I was able to talk to her so easily. After the first week, she’d pulled me aside, concerned that I hadn’t been talking in group at all. So I decided to tell her my story…how scared I was, how much I felt like I’d failed myself. And she showed me how to live through my fears. She taught me how to fight off the dreams, how to stop thinking about what happened. How to turn the all the bad things into one big positive thing. It worked. I guess you could say Susan was my miracle. It was a sad day when we both realized I was ready to move on, but it was for the best.

Well up until now anyway.

“Maybe you need a visit,” she’d told me over the phone. “You sound tired.”

“I can’t really get a break,” I’d groaned. “My client needs me, Susan.”

“Being needed is fine and well,” she’d said, a little annoyed. “But you know your mental health comes first. I don’t need to hear some report that you’ve dug yourself into a hole again.”

I gave in. I do miss her a lot, and I’m sorry to say I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like to. She told me to tell ‘whoever my boss is’ that I have to go see family next week and I can’t change the times around. It made me laugh. She’s always been so to-the-point. I think it’s why I love her so much. But I mean, even though the date is set I have no idea how I’m supposed to go. Justin isn’t exactly stable, and Lynn isn’t too happy with me at this point. Asking for time off now would seriously jeopardize my career, I’m sure. But on the other hand, do I really want to stay here? Do I really want to keep feeling this way about Justin? Do I really want to confuse him anymore? It’s selfish. I know it’s selfish.

But damn it. I think a part of me has come to depend on him. I don’t know why or for what. All I know is…if I left tomorrow I’d probably be lost for weeks.

And that’s very, very bad.

“I’m sorry if I came off as irrational yesterday.”

I slowly revert my gaze from the window, over to Lynn. Eric ended up staying at the house with Justin so Lynn and I could go out for lunch together today. Before we left the house I was extremely nervous about the whole thing. When Lynn and Justin came back from lunch yesterday, I didn’t go to greet them. I’d made sure to clean up the downstairs of Justin’s house while they were out, and then I proceeded into my little hut across the way, barricading myself inside. I’d cried for awhile, before I could conjure up the strength to call Susan. Needless to say, I was not in the mood for Lynn’s heated glares, or Justin’s demands as to why I was being the way I was when we’d talked. I just needed some time alone to think. I didn’t want to be mad at Justin, but I couldn’t help but think it was his fault that my boss was mad at me in the first place. I had plenty of information to cover my ass, but at the same time I’d promised Justin that I’d help him out. I didn’t want to betray him so I basically let myself take the heat for his mistakes. The more I thought about it, the more I knew it wasn’t the first time he’d pulled this kind of thing on somebody. I guessed that was the reason why his friends had deserted him like they had. They hadn’t been able to handle it. That was the big difference between me and them. I knew I could handle it.

Because I had been there.

“Oh it’s fine,” I finally manage. “I mean, you had every right to be upset. The house was a mess and…”

But she interrupts me. “I know it couldn’t have been your fault, Melanie.”

I hold my breath. She’s right. She knows me too well. She hired me because she knows I’m not a total screw up like Justin is…at least not anymore. And now she probably expects me to tell her exactly what’s been going on. But what am I supposed to do? I made a promise to Justin. And I don’t break promises. I know what will happen if the truth comes out. She’ll freak out, drag Justin back home with her, and I’ll be out of a job anyway. It won’t solve anything. It will just drive Justin and myself into even further depression. “It was just me being lazy, that’s all.”

But she gives me a look like she knows something has been going on. I have no idea what she and Justin discussed yesterday at lunch either, I haven’t seen him yet today. I know he wouldn’t tell her the truth though. He’s too scared.

“Eric told me he seemed off the day he took you guys out shopping.”

Eric. Right. I should have guessed. I’m still kicking myself for acting so hastily and calling him like I did. But I was just so mad that day. Mad at myself. Mad at Justin. And I wanted things to change. drastically. What I didn’t count on was Justin acting so fake like he did. I’m sure it put all kinds of ideas into Eric’s head. I’d tried to make myself believe he wouldn’t mention anything to Lynn, but I was stupid to think that he wouldn’t. Lynn trusts him, and he’s worked for Justin and his family for awhile. Of course he’d mention something. But still, I try to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

She lets out a short sigh and shakes her head a little bit. “Melanie, one of the reasons I hired you is because I knew you were a smart girl.”

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I nod and smile anyway. “Okay.”

“And I know that you, just like everybody else, can see right through Justin’s fake act,” she continues. “Eric told me that, on that day, Justin was right in character, if you know what I mean.”

I shake my head. “He was just nervous about being in public, that’s all. I know you understand that Lynn. Who was I to tell him to calm down?”

“I’m just confused as to why he so suddenly wanted to go out in public.”

We stop at a red light and she looks at me, half desperate, half hopeless. It makes me wonder how many of Justin’s friends she ran to for answers before they all decided to throw in the rag. Hell, maybe its part of what drove them all away. I don’t know. But I do know I can’t give her the answer she’s looking for. “Nothing happened, if that’s what your worried about, “ I say brightly. “Yeah it was my idea to get him out of the house, so maybe it was my fault that he chose to act that way. But I was just looking out for him, Lynn. He seemed to be in the house so much, and it just…it wasn’t good for him.”

I’m a really good liar.

She smiles as the light changes green. “So that’s all it was?”

“Honest. He was just a little shaky,” I reassure her. “But once he got used to being out and about he was really okay. We had an okay night back at the house. And actually since then…he’s been a lot better about things. He’s not so bitter anymore.”

“I did notice a big change in his attitude yesterday,” she nods. “I just wasn’t sure if it was an act or not.”

“Some of it may have been.” Justin would kill me if he knew I said that, but right now I think I owe it to Lynn to be a little bit honest here. I feel bad enough that I’ve kept what I’ve kept from her. I wouldn’t’ be doing my job if I didn’t say that. “But I think most of it was genuine.”

She squeezes my hand then, gently. “I knew bringing you here would help,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “I just…I don’t know how to thank you.”

I can’t believe we got away with everything. I really can’t. if she even knew…half of what happened…

No.

Don’t think about lies. Think about the positive, Mel.

“I’m glad I could help.”

She pulls into the restaurant. The sign out front reads ‘Nook’. I haven’t been out to eat in Los Angeles enough to know the ins and outs of the eateries around here. But I’m sure Lynn comes here enough to know what’s good, and what’s just overpriced. Hopefully it’s not a lot of fish, but from the looks of the place it doesn’t seem that way.

“Justin loves this place. Remind me to order him some mac and cheese before we leave okay?”

Whew, no fish. I smile. “Sure.”

I get out of the car and follow Lynn up to entrance as she rambles on and on about what a cute place it is, and how “When the boys moved here it’s all they could talk about.” Boys meaning plural. I don’t get it. But I don’t ask either. We walk in, and the waitress seems to know Lynn right away. They do the normal kissing cheek ritual that I’ve seen done so many times on TV and stuff. It’s weird. Los Angles is like another world compared to everywhere else. It makes me want to go exploring one day with Justin. I mentioned it yesterday too, but he quickly shot me down. “Too many photographers,” he’d muttered. “I can’t deal with that right now.” I understood of course. I’d hate to see the disaster that Justin would turn into if he was surrounded by paparazzi. I suppose I could go off on my own. But…I know I wouldn’t feel safe. I never feel safe. So I guess it’s going to be awhile before I’ll ever get to see the delights of Los Angeles, California. It’s not that big of a deal though. I’d rather him be content, than alone in the house and scared.

“Trace is in the back.” The waitress smiles and points somewhere towards the back of the restaurant. “He said to tell you he’d wait to order.”

I tense up. I wasn’t aware that we’d be having a guest at our luncheon. I mean, I wont say anything of course, but it does scare me that I’ll have to deal with another member of Justin and Lynn’s camp. With the exception of Lynn, the only other people I’ve met that have seemed to know Justin was that Marty guy and that other guy Alex who screamed at me. While I wasn’t’ intimidated, I wasn’t thrilled to deal with anybody else Justin was affiliated with either. I mean, what the hell kind of name is Trace anyway? I’m sure he’s a bastard, unless he’s just a friend of Lynn’s. If he’s some old guy I can deal. I mean, a friend of Lynn’s has got to be mature and respectable…

“Trace!”

I’m afraid to look, but I force myself to. Lynn is embracing some young guy, probably around Justin’s age. I contemplate hiding in the bathroom while they’re hugging so the guy won’t notice me, but my feet seem to be nailed to the hardwood floor. After an eternity they finally let go of each other, and that’s when I get my first glimpse at the guy.

And I can’t fucking believe it.

“Melanie come here!,” Lynn says, excitedly yanking me closer to her so I can greet Trace properly. “Trace, this is Melanie. You remember don’t you? The one I told you about on the phone?”

I stare at him. I have to literally hold my breath to keep from saying something stupid. “Hello,” I force a pleasant tone.

He looks just as shocked as I feel, as he sticks out a hand for me to shake. “Hi.”

It’s that guy that was sitting outside the house that day I came back from the grocery store. I was unloading the car, and I saw him just sitting in his car outside the gate. Needless to say, it freaked me the hell out and I went up to the gate to find out exactly what he was doing there. “Wrong house,” he’d said. Yeah. What a crock of shit. Still, I don’t let my emotions show, but he still looks nervous as we sit down to order our food. It’s obvious he recollects our confrontation, and he doesn’t know how to react. I wish I knew more about this guy. It’s obvious that he’s one of Justin’s friends, but just how close are they?

I guess I’ll find out.

Lynn starts to make small talk, and I try to play along, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of our guest. I guess the curiosity is getting the best of me or something, but I can’t say he’s having an easy time keeping his gazed fixated elsewhere either.

Trace chews like horse, and drinks like a fucking camel. Good thing there are free refills here. I think the guy might just finish off their supply of sweet tea. He has a cocky little laugh and a cocky little smirk, that nearly remind me of Justin when he’s not being miserable. It’s the strangest thing. If he wasn’t so short, he could probably pass for Justin’s brother or something. I don’t dare ask how close he is to Justin. I’m just too afraid. Although it doesn’t take a genius to tell that he’s possibly the best friend. I doubt he’d be here having lunch with us if he wasn’t that close to him. I eye him every few seconds, and he eyes me right back, with same smug look on his face. Really, I’d reach across the table and strangle him if I knew Lynn wouldn’t notice. I’m just so pissed that he lied to me. If he had simply told me that he was a friend of Justin’s I could have explained myself to him and told him what was going on. It scares me. It’s like he didn’t want Justin to know he’d been there or something.

And it’s scary, because it’s making me wonder what‘s so terrible about Justin that Trace has felt the need to hide from him.