Casting Shadows

'So, Gerard, what made you stop coming to therapy? Any particular reason?' Dr Matthews is opposite me in his antique leather armchair while I sit on the couch, still trying to find a comfortable position for my boney ass.

It would be a blatant lie to say that I don't feel anxious. You'd think that I'd be used to it by now, having been in therapy pretty much since the age of 7; that it is an integral part of my life and something that I don't even think about anymore. For a very short period of time back in my teens, I didn't take it very seriously, and I lied to my therapist a lot just to avoid certain things. I pretended to be somebody else and whether it was obvious to him or not, he let me get away with it until I grew tired of it myself. Probably because he knew I wouldn't be able to keep it up anyway. Let's be real, these fuckers can see right through you and there's nothing you can do about it.

I knew that asking me why I had stopped therapy would be his first question after I was done updating him on my life. And I tried to find an answer that would make sense, both to me and him. I quit therapy over a year ago, just like that. Called his office one day to cancel an appointment and then never confirmed a new one. Naturally, Tori and Christian asked me about it when they noticed that the bills had stopped coming, but I simply told them a lie that I was seeing a counselor at SVA, and they seemed satisfied with that. Of course I missed the weekly sessions, and I only acknowledged that therapy was actually helping me when I found myself in the downward spiral I'd been in for the last year, and unable to do anything about it. So after pretending to think about his question for a while, I decide it's best to just tell him the truth.

'I felt like we were digging up something I wasn't ready to dig up yet.'

'And now you're ready?' he asks, writing something down on his notepad.

'No.' the answer comes a little too fast. 'Um...I don't think so. But I'm ready to try to at least start the process again, I guess.'

'What changed?'

I shrug and look out the window to escape his inquisitive gaze. 'Maybe I changed. I don't know. For a while I tried to run away from things but that just made me worse. And it hurt people I care about a lot. And they let me. So I kept doing it. But you know, they deserve better. Skeeter, my foster parents, Seth and Lucy. They've been there for me for the last 12 years and I'm just done hurting them.'

'Are you done hurting yourself, too?' his question confuses me.

'Yeah. I'm happy.'

It seems as though he doesn't believe me but he leans back in his chair, accepting my answer nonetheless although he waits for me to keep talking.

'But...you know...I'm also worried. That it's just a phase? That I'm happy for a while but then something will happen again and fuck it all up. That being happy makes me vulnerable and the bad things will get the chance to sneak up on me and catch me off guard. So I don't know if it's right to be happy. I don't know...'

'What do you think could happen?' he asks.

'I'm not sure...I could hurt the people I love, again. By doing things that aren't okay. Like I have with Skeeter in the last year.' my voice is merely a whisper because I'm ashamed to admit it.

'Gerard, I hate to tell you but it's completely normal. When things get complicated or rough, we run. We hide. We try to get rid of the feeling in whichever way we can think of. We all do it. Some try a little harder than others. We hurt each other. We love each other too but sometimes we hurt each other. It doesn't make you a bad or horrible person, it makes you human.'

'But I don't want to be this way!' I try my best not to sound like a stubborn little child but obviously fail miserably.

'But you are this way. And it's not as bad as you think. Gerard, you are not as bad as you think. You're here talking to me instead of running off being self-destructive. You and Skeeter, you and your family, you have a good relationship which you all worked hard for. Sure, things might get rough again but that's life. If you constantly anticipate the bad times that might come, you will never be able to fully enjoy the good times. You've been through a lot. Yet here you are. Acknowledge just how crucial that is. Just how far you've come. You have the right to be happy and nothing that happened in the past can take that right away from you.'

He's addressing my guilt and shame, and I hate that it hits home the way it does.

'I feel it though...'

'What do you feel?'

'That...there will be bad times.'

I swallow hard. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. Maybe I should have just spent 45 minutes talking about how happy I am with Skeeter and how we finally told Tori and Christian about us and they're okay with it. How I finally overcame one of my biggest fears, being rejected by my parents, and accepted the fact that they love me unconditionally, just like Skeeter. I didn't plan for this first therapy session to get so intense right away. He is most likely aware that it's too early for me to head down this path so he directs me away from it.

'There will be. For sure. We both know that. However, you're back here, and we can deal with all that. You're talking to me. You're talking to your family, your girlfriend. You're not running or hiding, or self-medicating. You're taking care of yourself. That's progress. And a very solid basis to start from.'

He's right. It's hard for me to admit it but he's right. So when I leave his office that day, I'm still uncertain about how deep I really want to dig, but I feel more confident and optimistic that I might just be able to handle it this time.

*

I have been cooking for three hours. Counting the time I spent on the phone with my mom to ask her questions and freak out because I thought I had fucked up, it's probably closer to four. It's lame but right now I'm acting like that typical housewife who wants to surprise her man with his favorite dinner when he comes home. Not because it's expected of me, I know it isn't. Gerard laughed at me the first time I suggested cooking for him. In the brief time we lived together, we cooked together maybe two or three times but since we are on a budget and are usually too tired, we opt for cup noodles, grilled cheese or cheap frozen foods a lot. Today though, my last lecture was cancelled so I had the afternoon off. Gerard had an appointment to see his therapist right after school, his first session in over a year. He'd been nervous about it for days, even though he downplayed it, so I decided to welcome him home with a delicious roast chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans as well as carrot cake for dessert. Comfort food that would hopefully make him feel comfortable if he is stressed out or upset. And although I hope he won't be, there's a good chance he might. In the past, I've seen him come back from therapy completely worn out and lethargic; when he was younger he'd even cry sometimes. I know that Dr Matthews, the therapist he has now, is adamant about only ending a session when he feels that his patients are in a good place emotionally but I imagine Gerard would be quite the expert at fooling him just to escape the situation. There is just no way to predict how he's feeling, or if he would even show or tell me how he's feeling. At times he'd talk about therapy, but not always. And obviously I never asked either. It's not my place, and I'm okay with that.

Just as I finish setting the table, I hear his key in the door.

'Hey!' I smile widely at him and Gerard returns it before looking around.

'Hey...it smells like food in here...like real food. Like...oh my God did you cook?!' he drops his bag on the floor, kicks off his shoes and heads over to the kitchen where the chicken is fresh out of the oven, waiting to be eaten.

I follow him and stand next to my masterpiece with pride. 'I thought I'd surprise you. I hope it tastes as good as it looks.'

'Oh I'm sure it does.' he grins and I blush at the suggestiveness of his comment. 'That's so sweet of you, Skee. Thank you.' he reaches for my hands and pulls me into a tight hug, kissing my cheek. He smells like snow and soap, and his scent instantly causes a rush of heat run through my entire body.

'Wait 'til you see what's for dessert.' now he's blushing at my sexual innuendo and I giggle.

'I'm...hmm...okay. What have I done to deserve all that?' he asks as I push his jacket off his shoulders and take it over to the coat rack.

'I just wanted to surprise you. My anatomy lecture was cancelled and I had some extra time. I have no idea how to carve it though.'

Gerard has already hitched up the sleeves of his jumper and is grabbing a knife. 'How about I serve since you cooked?'

I want to protest but he motions me to sit down. I can tell that even though he's excited about the fact that I did all this for him, he's now going to do everything in his power to make up for it, and spoil me just as much.

'So...how was your day?' I ask as he joins me at the table with the food.

'It was good. It was definitely the right decision to see Dr Matthews again.' I'm surprised he brings it up right away. 'Holy shit this is delicious.' he then adds after taking the first bite.

'I'm very happy to hear that.' referring to both Dr Matthews and the fact that he likes the food.

'Did you do all that because you thought I'd need cheering up?'

'Yeah...kinda.' I admit and Gerard leans over to give me another kiss.

'You're the best. And I love you.'

'Stop being so sappy and eat your food. You can show me how grateful you are later.' I push him away playfully and he narrows his eyes at me before shoving a fork full of mashed potatoes into his mouth with a satisfied look on his face.

When I place the carrot cake in front of him 20 minutes later, he makes a noise that I only ever heard him make in the bedroom before. I have no idea how he manages to devour two slices after all the food he's already had but he does, although he's unable to move once he's done. We relocate to the couch and then relocate again to the bed because the couch is too tiny and uncomfortable for our full bellies. Gerard tells me about therapy and I'm happy that he feels good about it. In all honesty, I was worried that he might regret it, or that it would be too much to start the process all over again after months and months of hard work, getting where he was before he decided to stop. I don't know what exactly it was that made him stop but I know that whatever it was also triggered his careless behavior. The drinking, the partying, the drugs; going missing for days and starting fights when I expressed my concern, just to then try to shut me up with his desperate love for me. It was a crazy and painful time but I never once considered not opening the door for him in the middle of the night, although I did ban him from my bed a couple of times when he was just too drunk to function properly. I always knew that his biggest fear was rejection, so I could never bring myself to reject him.

'I'm prepared this time.' he says, and although I'm not exactly sure what he means, I squeeze his hand affirmatively.

The next morning, I accompany him to SVA before heading to my first lecture at NYU. Our daily tradition. I like that despite having to get up a little earlier, we always do it and take turns at dropping each other off. We kiss and I watch him disappear into the building where he turns around one last time to wave as he heads up the stairs, and then I leave to catch my train.

'Excuse me?' a young man stops me as I walk down towards the stop. He looks oddly familiar but I can't figure out where I've seen him before.

'Yes?' I ask, studying his face. He's younger than me, maybe 16 or 17. Maybe he thinks I'm a student here and wants to ask me for directions.

'Are you Skeeter Marie Sloan?' he wants to know and I nod hesitatingly, wondering why he knows my full name.

'And that was your foster brother, Gerard, right?'

I'm getting uncomfortable now. I want to walk away. He seems to sense my discomfort because he puts his hands up in a reassuring gesture.

'And who are you?' I ask warily.

'My name is Mikey. Michael. I'm sorry to just approach you like this but I wanted to make sure it's really him before I contact him.'

What the hell was he talking about? What did he want from Gerard? Was this some sort of trick?

'Contact him about what?' I'm getting impatient now.

'I just found out that I was adopted. And I think...I think he's my brother.'

Notes

OKAY I know I'm sorry for being gone for so long. I really have no excuse. After the holidays and being a lazy ass for two weeks, I completely lost all motivation and inspiration to write. I'm SO SORRY. I hope you can forgive me and I hope you're still interested in this story. If not...well there's nothing I can do about it.
I also apologize if this chapter was shitty, as I said, I lost the motivation to write and had to overcome a severe case of writers block to finally write this chapter. So if it's not up to par, sorry!

I really hope that I've overcome my writer's block for good now and that I can update regularly again.

Okay now that I'm done asking for your forgiveness, please let me know what you think?! Also, DUN DUN, Mikey whatttt?????