Page 114 of The Problem with Players

“But sometimes, is it hard for you to get out of bed?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He moved in closer and wrapped his arms around me. “Then we’ll stay in bed today.”

Hours passedof him holding me. He didn’t complain for a second, even when I kept offering him my apologies.

“Don’t worry,” he told me as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His back leaned against the headboard as he looked down at me. “There was a long period of my life when I couldn’t get out of bed, either.”

I sat up and leaned against the headboard. “You too?”

“Me too.” He brushed his thumb against his nose. “After Mickey passed away, I couldn’t get out of bed, no matter how hard I tried. Then even when I felt as if I should’ve been able to get up, I still couldn’t. It was as if my mind was cementing my body into the bed. No matter how many good things happened, it was just hard to…exist.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Just like that. How did you get through it?”

“I found my beams.”

“Your beams? What does that mean?”

“My therapist told me that when I was going through my darkest moments. She told me to look for my sunbeams. She said that people who are sad often try to dive headfirst into feeling better. They go to extremes and try hard to climb out of the darkness to feel the sun’s full burst of joy again. They try so hard to get back to a feeling from their past when they felt the happiness.”

“Yeah. I do try to chase the high of past happy moments.”

“Many people do. Then they crash and burn because it was too much, too soon, too hard. That leaves a feeling of even more depression because you’re hard on yourself, and you feel as if you’ve failed, when really, you just went too hard, too soon. And it’s not about chasing the past. It’s about allowing a new future through finding your sunbeams.”

“Break it down.”

“The sunbeams are the small bursts of light that break through one’s window of depression. The little flickers of light that remind you of how life can feel. Those sunbeams can be anything. People, places, activities. Mine was my family. Coming back home and working on the farm. Holding a baseball bat in my hands. Laughing with my brothers. To the outside world, these aren’t big things, but to me…they got me to the next day. Over time, I started finding more beams of light. Things that filled me with joy. Over time, the light grew. It’s not a constant thing. Some days, the beams are more abundant than others. But still, the light always comes in. So I think that’s what you need to do. Find your beams of light.”

“I like that thought,” I whispered. “But what if I don’t even have enough energy to get out of bed to shower?”

“Then your sunbeam is your ability to open your eyes and lay still.”

I shut my eyes and slightly shook my head. “But I want to shower. Ineedto shower. This is so embarrassing to even admit.”

“In the deepest parts of my depression, I went weeks without a shower and stayed hidden in a motel, Avery.” His hand fell against mine. “Never be embarrassed with me.”

As I opened my eyes, tears rolled down my cheeks. “Thank you, Nathan.”

“Of course. If you’d like, I can carry you.”

“Carry me?”

“To the bath. I can bathe with you and hold you through it.”

I tried to let out a chuckle, but it fell short. “No, Nathan. You don’t have to do that. You’ve already done too much, and I can’t ask you to do that.”

He moved a piece of hair from in front of my face, and a lazy smile fell to his lips. “Like I told you weeks ago, Ave. I’ll take care of you.”

A small sob broke through my lips as I let his words envelop me. I felt weak. Tired. Ashamed. And still, he smiled at me and said he’d take care of me.

His thumb brushed away a few of the tears. “Just say the word, and I’ll draw a bath.”

I closed my eyes and nodded. “Please,” I requested.

His lips fell to my forehead, and he kissed me gently. “Always.”

He climbed out of bed and headed out of my room. I listened to the sound of running water as I stayed exactly where he’d left me. About ten minutes later, he returned to the room and lifted me from the bed in his arms.

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