Page 21 of Haunted Mediation
Leon didn’t move a muscle. He barely dared to breathe. He was pretty sure if he let an ounce of his control slip, he was going to close the distance between them.
If it had been any other conversation, any other moment, he would have. But this wasn’t the right time.
There would be a right time, though. Maybe not tonight, or this week, or even this month, but Leon was pretty sure it was coming sometime soon.
He nodded, making sure to keep his shoulders pressed back into the cold cement wall.
James released another breath before nodding back and turning to be the one who, this time, would lead them into the next room.
Chapter Five
JAMES
Iam the reason you feel so alone at night.
The words played on a loop in James’ head as he led them into a garish orange room. The theme was immediately apparent, some sort of extraterrestrial horror schtick. Thankfully, James couldn’t care less about aliens. As they worked their way through the room, he jumped a few times when something touched or launched at him but otherwise remained silent, that haunting voice playing through his head.
What about a life filled with loneliness?
God, this was so stupid. The person was basically reading dollar store sentiments. Seriously, the statements were so bland that they could have been written on anti-motivational posters and hung in businesses everywhere. Of course some things would resonate with James. That was the point.
It didn’t stop it from hurting, though.
Leon’s hand in his was like a tether, the only thing keeping James from spiraling so deep in his head, it would take days, if not weeks, to pull himself out. It had started the weekend before, with his mom’s banishment of him from Halloween. It had only gotten worse throughout the week, as he finally began to take notice of all the things she did around the house whilehe was at work. There was still a lot she couldn’t do, but every day it seemed she was making slow progress back toward some semblance of normalcy.
It was so incredible, it brought tears to James’ eyes. Which made the tears that kept burning his eyes now feel like a betrayal.
He managed to lead them into the next room, painted a freakish neon yellow and filled almost to the brim with clowns: clown stuffed animals, clown figurines, clown shoes, clown hair…and there was definitely something or someone moving around underneath it all.
James tried to focus, since they basically had to scramble across piles of junk to get through the room. Leon kept their pace slow, never letting go of James’ hand. He helped James wade through a mound of wigs and struggle his way over a stack of clown coveralls. Where Leon could have probably used both hands to clear a pathway through a pile of clown dolls, he instead slowly guided James up and over it.
It had been a long time since James felt so cared for. He’d been the one doing the caretaking for so long, even in some ways having to take care of his emotionally immature ex, that he had begun to forget what it felt like.
James had needs, too. He’d read enough pamphlets and attended enough support group meetings for caretakers and family members of folks with cancer to know that. For the most part, he was able to take care of himself, both physically and emotionally. Until recently, he hadn’t realized that was probably because a huge one of his emotional needs was being met.
It sounded complicated, or maybe it just sounded stupid, but one of James’ needs…was to be needed.
Or maybe to be wanted? To be useful?
I am every person who has ever left you because you were no longer of use to them.
They stumbled over the final stack of clown detritus—or, more accurately, James did. Leon caught him as he stumbled, his firm hand bracing James’ side as James continued to clutch his other hand.
Had he ever, in their entire friendship, been useful to Leon? He tried to always be a convenience. He’d never asked Leon to come over to his house, except for one time, because he knew their house could be a bit stressful. There were rows of pill bottles on the kitchen counter and boxes of medical supplies in the living room. James hadn’t redecorated his bedroom since college. There were peeling posters and old trophies shoved up next to work materials he kept on hand in case he needed to take an emergency work-from-home day. James always offered to go to Leon’s place or meet him somewhere out, and he said yes to virtually every one of Leon’s plans. There were a few things he’d said no to, like line dancing—which he was still convinced was a joke—and Go-Karts. Other than that, though, he’d genuinely enjoyed every one of their excursions and adventures, so he had no reason to say no. Maybe, in a way, that made him useful?
He knew there was no way Leon needed him, though. Leon didn’t need anyone.
That was okay. For a long time, that actually would have been preferable. While James clearly liked to be needed, he’d been needed so much by his mom that there hadn't been any room for anyone else and their needs.
Back when his mom had first gotten diagnosed, it had been months of near constant appointments, second opinions, and consultations. At the beginning, it had been a chemo pill, which made her somehow even sicker, and required yet more appointments and consultations.
Then, for over a year it was a bi-weekly schedule of in-person and at-home continuous chemo. They would go in to get the first round of chemicals on Monday, only to have to return onWednesday to get the second round, which was administered via pump. Then they’d go back the following Monday to return the pump, and they’d have a few days of downtime while his mom recovered from the poison slowly creeping through her body that would hopefully save her life.
Then came the radiation—much easier than the chemo but still requiring a cadence of appointments and check-ins. Finally came the two surgeries and an extended recovery from that.
Thank god all that was finished now, and several of his weekday nights were free for the first time in years. He still took his mom to water aerobics because, grudgingly, he’d finally admitted he should probably be moving his body the same amount, if not more so than his mother. They also had monthly appointments with a slew of her doctors and the infamous support group where she’d met Howard. His mom had never enjoyed driving, and for a long time, the neuropathy made it impossible. She was medically able to drive now, but James knew she still preferred it when James was behind the wheel.
All things considered, though, James' life was entering a new season. He had more free time and more energy to give to another person. He could feel it building, that need, thatdriveto commit himself to someone else and be a part of their life and let them be a part of his. He didn’t know if Leon was that person. He didn’t know if Leon would evenwanthis time and energy.
