Page 20 of Just Joshing
He sighed, shoving to his feet as the class watched. He shuffled over, taking position on the ‘x’ I'd marked in tape on the floor. He stood in place in front of the board where they'd written their goals at the start of the year.
"I want to be strong. I want to be successful. I want to be better for me and my kid."
"Good. Take a seat." I turned back, blinking when I found Josh standing right behind me. I took a step back. Josh's eyes remained on Mike.
I cleared my throat. "What- er… Next question?"
Hands shot up.
Josh answered every random thought the kids threw at him for the next forty minutes. He described his life, his path to success, agreeing to let the kids interview for internships and jobs on his next shoot in New York. We finished with a quick discussion about the pitfalls of Hollywood and Josh talking about the difficulties he'd faced. They quickly learnt that not all that glitters is gold.
"Alright," I called, wrapping up the session. "Your homework tonight is to work out what you need to succeed in life. I'm not talking money. I want you to think about what skills and supports you need to get to where you want to be. Five hundred words." They all groaned. "We'll talk about it next week."
The class shuffled out, a few stragglers stopping to talk to Josh on their way. I quickly packed up the desk, doing a walk around the classroom to ensure no one had left anything behind. Trent exited, closing the door behind him.
"Josh?"
"Yeah?" He started to turn towards me.
"Please look away."
"Wha-"
My violent retching interrupted his question. I clutched the waste bin, letting the trembling and anxiety overwhelm me for a brief few minutes.
"Jesucristo," Josh's hands came to rest on my shoulders, one sliding down to rub soothing circles between my shoulder blades. "Still?"
I waited, the nausea subsiding. When I finally felt strong enough, I replaced the empty waste bin, smoothing hands down my thighs. I took a deep breath before facing him.
"Yeah. It's normally not this bad but that confrontation was…" I trailed off.
"How often?"
"Maybe twice a month."
He cursed under his breath.
"It's not that bad," I shrugged. "And I'm now at the point where I can delay the anxiety until I'm safe."
He ran a hand over his face, his fingers rasping against the scruff of his beard. "You need to see someone."
"I do." I lifted my bag, looping the strap over my shoulder. "She's proud of the progress I've made."
"I wish…" He faltered.
My mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile. "I know."
Post-college, very aware of my single status, I'd dived headfirst into the dating world. The first man I'd dated remained my only real relationship. He-who-shall-not-be-named circulated our little social sphere. I'd let him talk me into a date, then a relationship, and then, hovering on the cusp of agreeing to an engagement, I'd suffered a breakdown. I'd realized he'd molded me into someone I didn't recognize. Everything about me had changed to suit him. I'd dropped my work at the center, I'd cancelled charity events to help him.
My fear of confrontation and rejection - overriding and unabating - had allowed him to walk all over me. He'd used manipulation and subtle insults to sculpt me into a different person. A people-pleaser, I'd done anything I could to keep the man I thought I loved happy. Every argument had been met with verbal cutdown, every protest or difference of opinion had been mocked. Subtly. Quietly. He'd broken me until I hadn't recognized who I was any more.
Sam had helped get me out of the situation, set me up in my own apartment, and supported me while I got back on my feet. Josh, always joined at the hip with Sam, had witnessed my worst.
Bess and Peter had been there for me, but it was really Sam that had helped me out.
"That chapter is closed. I'm handling conflict better. Doesn't mean I'll ever enjoy it though." I offered him a genuine smile. Slowly his eyes swept my face. Finally, satisfied by whatever he saw there, he returned my smile.
"What now?"
