Page 46 of Holding On to a Hero
During their visit I actually didn’t think about Cole and Jason for almost fifteen whole minutes. But as soon as visiting hours were over, I was alone again and the negative thoughts were back in droves.
The next day I forced myself to call Lisa, my therapist. I made an appointment for the next week. I could tell it was going to be a doozy.
* * *
Excerpt from transcript of interview with Godfrey Samuels, owner of Samuels Representation, LLC, and Cole Washburn’s former agent:
Special Agent Bardo:Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mr. Samuels.
Samuels:Of course. I want to help catch the evil son of a bitch who shot Cole. I still have his old fan letters. Some of them were pretty scary. I can give them to you.
Special Agent Bardo:I would appreciate that very much. Mr. Samuels, according to several sources you were very upset when Mr. Washburn terminated your employment as his agent.
Samuels:What? You think I’m a suspect? Did that Shelton guy tell you to talk to me? If you ask me, that’s the guy you should be looking at. He never had Cole’s best interests in mind. It was only after Cole hired Shelton that he started all that talk about retiring. He could be making millions, he could be going places! And now look at him! Shot and in a coma!
Special Agent Bardo:Mr. Samuels, can you tell me where you were on Thursday morning between 4am and 8am Pacific Time, and if anyone can verify your whereabouts?
Samuels:What? An alibi! You’re looking for an alibi! From me? Fuck you! And fuck Cole Washburn! He deserves to be in a fucking coma! That kid had no loyalty! I treated him like family, and now you’re asking me for an alibi? Fuck you!
Special Agent Bardo:Mr. Samuels, I’m going to have to ask you to stop poking me in the chest.
Samuels:Fuck you!
Special Agent Bardo:Mr. Samuels, I am placing you under arrest for assaulting an agent of the California Bureau of Investigations.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Will
On Thursday morning of the following week I was lying on Ally’s couch, idly watching TV while I looked through the photos on my laptop. Detectives Ochoa and Callahan had dropped it by personally the previous afternoon. They mentioned following up on some emails from Cole’s more zealous fans, but there didn’t seem to be any progress in the investigation.
My call to Brian Shelton was similarly frustrating. Cole’s condition was unchanged. The guilt gnawed at me, even though I knew it was irrational. Tomorrow I had my second appointment with my therapist since the shooting. I probably should have scheduled them daily.
As I swiped through the photos I paused on the picture of the horses I’d taken the morning I’d caught Cole and Jason kissing. After I’d met Jason and he’d expressed appreciation for the horse photo, I’d set up a password-protected folder on my cloud drive and had emailed the link to him. That’s what I’d used to share the photos of the sheep – wow, that wasn’t even two weeks ago. It seemed like a lifetime.
I navigated to the folder and looked at the photos I’d put there. My intention had been to put the photos of Cole on the horse in front of the barn in that folder, but now…. I shrugged to myself – internally at least; actual shrugging was going to have to wait until I could use my right shoulder – and copied over the photos.
Then, because I was a sentimental fool, I found a beautiful photo of a pink rose I’d taken last summer and put it in the folder too. Maybe Jason would be bored sitting by Cole’s bedside and remember the photos. I knew it wasn’t likely, but it made me feel like I was sending a message anyway.
And that became a daily ritual for me for the next five weeks. I was lonely. Before I’d met Cole and Jason, I’d been content with my life. I might not have had a group of friends in Austin, but just hanging out with my sister and niece and focusing on my wildlife photography had been enough. Sure, I went to my appointments with Lisa and physical therapy, and Arturo and Tracey had met Ally and me for dinner a couple of times, but it wasn’t the same. And it wasn’t enough anymore.
So every day I’d look through my photos from the day before and choose the best one to put in Cole and Jason’s folder. It gave me a reason to get out of the house, though I hadn’t been able to make myself go back to the beaver pond. Mostly I stuck to the parks in town and photographed squirrels and birds.
I’d had to use my phone’s camera at first – my professional camera was too heavy for my healing shoulder in the first few weeks even without the eight-pound lens on it. But I still managed to get some good shots, and putting them into Cole and Jason’s folder made me feel connected with them.
I’d had to step up my therapy sessions to three times a week, but I was finally in a much better head space. Lisa had helped me acknowledge and embrace that I’d done the best I could to save Cole, and that if someone else had been in my place and had done exactly what I’d done, I would never have blamed them for Cole’s coma. Therefore I couldn’t blame myself.
Reminding myself of that worked most days. When it didn’t, it was usually time for another therapy appointment anyway.
I also talked to Lisa about other worries – worry that Cole was still in a coma, worry that Jason wasn’t taking care of himself, worry that when Cole did wake up he and Jason would realize they didn’t have room in their relationship for anyone else, worry that the shooter would find them wherever they were.
She couldn’t help me solve those worries. She just made me start journaling them. Which helped. Some. I also journaled my attempts to get information out of Brian. The media was still reporting there was no change in Cole’s condition, and that’s all he told me as well when he bothered to answer the phone. He wouldn’t tell me anything about how Jason was holding up either. I hoped he’d remember to contact me if Cole’s condition ever changed, but I wasn’t optimistic.
Lisa had also been pushing me about dating. Dating people other than Cole and Jason. I mean, it wasn’t like Cole, Jason and I had declared ourselves exclusive or anything, given how few dates we’d actually had. But I’d wanted us to be.
But now they weren’t here, and I had no way of knowing when or if they’d come back. And the loneliness was worse than ever. Lisa reminded me that, even if I went out with someone, one date wasn’t a commitment. And at the very least I might make a friend.
I’d still been reluctant, but Ally laid out the argument that convinced me. “Look,” she said. “I know once Cole recovers you want to pick up where you left off with them. But think about what message you’ll be sending. Right now they’ll see a guy who’s been just sitting and waiting around for them. Who has the power in that relationship? Not you.”
