Page 75 of The Breaking Pointe
“It was an absolute nightmare, though. I shouldn’t have gotten mad like that, but I couldn’t help myself.I bet I looked like my father—no wonder Steven hates me.”I shake my head, rubbing my face simultaneously.
“Why doyousayStevenhatesyou?”sheasks calmly.
“I can see that look in his eyes—the same one that I had, you know?When I looked at my father.I’m so disgusted with who he had become…I can’t help but wonder if Steve feels the same. About me.” I gaze at the burgundy carpeting on the floor.
“Talk to him.Ask him questions.That’s how you get answers, Colton. I want you to try to not create narratives before you can investigate the scenario. You make yourself anxious when you jump to conclusions,” she says, nodding with a motherly warmth in her expression.
“When I talk, I say the wrong things.I get loud,” I respond.
“So, take a few deep breaths and move at your own pace when you do.It’s okay to take the time.The right people will respond accordingly,” she says.“You are taking your medicine, right?”
I chuckle softly, raising my head to look at her. “I take it every day, Dr. Lydia, c’mon.”
“I just have to ask, you know that.”She smiles, raising her hands in surrender, then looking at her watch. “It’s five o’clock.” She looks at me. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”I nod, looking at her as I stand up.“I appreciate you taking this last-minute appointment.I’m sorry it’s so random.”
“Don’t be sorry.” She stands up as well, walking with me to the door.“You can always make last-minute appoint- ments.”She squeezes my arm in a friendly gesture as she opens the door. “Tell Janice I said hello, will you?”
“Sure,” I nod, “thank you.”I half-smile before exiting her office, back into the loud lobby and out to my car.
Dr.Lydia is always right when I don’t want to hear it. It’s like she knows exactly what I need, but I shouldn’t be shocked—she’s worked with my inability to be normal since my dad made his grand exit.She reads me down to the grit, and while it’s great to feel seen, she sees the things that I don’t like to be visible to the candid eye.Like my fear of committing, or my defensive communication skills that stem from always defending myself, or the lack of.I suppose Noelle has seen it, too, now, which makes me feel embarrassed more than anything else.I wouldn’t imagine she’s one to judge, but she seems like she comes from a much more structured home than I do.
That’sthethingaboutNoelle,though.Sheoozesasense
of calmness and security that doesn’t feel authoritative.It feels comforting, and supportive.
In the past weeks, I’ve made myself take her into consid- eration more, not just as the woman I’ve hooked up with, but as someone I might want to be with for a long time.That instills fear within me, but I can’t tell when we’re at hockey games, or when we’re walking in Central Park.She makesit easy to forget when she’s telling me about her life backin Chicago, or what her students are learning. Her parents soundsocleancutandwellmannered,itmakesmenervous.
Who’s to say I would ever even meet them?What I do know is that they’ve raised her to want more for everyone, not just herself.She’s as selfless as they come, and she wants to give me her time. She doesn’t get bored of my personality, and rather than thinking I’m too witty or soft, she substitutes it as me being kind and detail oriented. She allows me to talk more. She begs me to talk more. I normally find it taxing to hold up conversation with people anymore, but she makes it as though I don’t have to lift a finger.
It’s organic, and real.
Her will to ignore my flawed upbringing and my quirks should be awarded. No matter how many times I apologize for my outburst at dinner, she tells me it’s okay.She said, “Family can be confusing and a lot. I like a lot,” and moved over the subject as though it doesn’t make a difference to how she sees me as a person. She sees everything, might I add. Like she can feel me being uneasy and wavering. That part, I don’t mind having seen. If it’s her, that is.
Getting in my car, my phone starts belting its loud ringer the moment I get in my driver’s seat. Once I’m situated in place, I finally get it out my pocket and read the ID, seeing
it’s Steven. “Hello?”
“Mom’s not getting out of bed,” he pants. “I thought she was taking a good nap, but now she’s not talking, and she can’t really move—I don’t know what to do!” he yells into the phone, his voice shaking.
Taking a second to process his words, I take a deep breath. “Alright, don’t panic, Steven.Try not to.I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m on the way, right now.”
“Okay—Okay, I’m not panicking. I’m waiting,” he says, obviously still freaked out.
“It’s okay, buddy.I’ll be there.I’ll let you know when I’m close by. Do me a favor?” I ask, remaining calm.
“Okay…” he says, sounding ready to cry at any given moment.
“I need you to hang up and to call 911, and tell them what’s happening, for me,” I direct him.
“Okay, I can do that.I’m hanging up,” he says.
“Good. I’ll see you in a few,” I say before hanging up and tossing my phone in the passenger seat, readying myself to drive off.
He has reason to be as upset as he is.When I get to the house, she is nearly incompetent. No response. According to the ambulance, that happens often with cancer patients when things get worse all of a sudden.The body begins to shut down and robs you of basic functions, like mobility and speech. Thankfully, her speech should be back within a few days, but there’s no guarantee ofthat. Just the budding hope that she’ll somehow find the strength to wake up and tell us that it’s simply a bad day.
IwanttotreatStevenlikeachildwhentheambulance
