Page 25 of Show Me How to Heal
DOES HIS MANAGER KNOW HIS WHEREABOUTS? WE ASKED!
Chapter 6
Luke
I was fucked.
“I think I remember you telling us some bullshit story about focusing on your recovery. Wanting to get away from it all to be able to breath, take hikes in nature, and do… whatever. Not working some kind of dead-end retail job. What does your PT say about that?”
Moritz was seething.
Honestly? I got it; I really did.
He missed me. I missed him, too. We’d never really been that far apart. I mean, yeah, I’d lived in a different city than him most of my adult life, and one year, I’d even lived in a different country. But he and I had always known I’d be back.
Now, I was on a whole other continent, and for him, getting a job meant I was putting down roots. Getting comfortable here, making it my home. The prospect must be terrifying for him, seeing as he’d always thought I’d be back home within a year, no matter what I’d said.
I sat down on the huge living room couch, leaned against the cushions, and let out a deep sigh.
“First of all, I’m not walking around all day. Zayne promised me I could sit most of the time.” Whenever there were no customers. “He doesn’t care if it takes me a little longer to get the job done. He also knows about my PT-appointments and wants to work around them.” Aka, he’d said he wouldn’t ever even think of endangering my recovery, so I just needed to tell him when I needed time off. “And my PT actually thinks it’ll be good for me.” Well, her actual words were that it’d probably be good for my mental health, and as long as I’d be mindful of my limitations, she didn’t see a huge problem in me working per se. “And please don’t say ‘retail job’ in that voice.”
Moritz huffed. “I’m sorry,” he said after a couple of seconds. “I know how hard this is on you. I’m just… I guess I’m trying to protect you from afar. I’ve been trying to protect you for the last fourteen months, and I guess… I guess I feel like I’ve been doing a shitty job with you running away from us and fleeing the country and all.”
Uff!
That hurt.
“Hör mal,”I said. “Listen. I was never, am not, and will never be running away from you or our parents. Please don’t think about it like that. I left because the media was getting to me. It was affecting me in ways…” I shook my head and closed my eyes. I hadn’t talked to Moritz about this before. Hadn’t talked to anyone besides a psychologist in my rehab facility. She’d suggested that a change of scenery might be good for me. To get the chance to accept my new reality in peace. Of course, she’d meant for me to go on vacation for a couple of weeks, not turning around and buying a house on another continent. But I didn’t do things halfway. “I started having panic attacks,” I confessed. “Whenever I needed to leave the house, my hands got all sweaty, my heart hammered — legit hammered; my smart watch was not impressed — and I was on edge all the time. You must’ve realized I was snapping at you and Mom a lot more, and… scheiße.It was getting worse and worse. I was so afraid, stressed out, and getting angrier. I didn’t want to feel like that anymore.”
Moritz stayed silent for a while. I heard him take a couple of deep breaths. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“You could never…”
“I know. I know you don’t see it that way, but…” I shrugged, though he couldn’t see it. I was glad we’d agreed to do the video tour another time because I wasn’t positive I could handle seeing his disappointment right now. “The thing isIsaw it that way. You all went out of your way to help me, to be there for me. Hell, I broke your fucking relationship up. And how did I repay you? I was trying to start fights with you by snapping at you. I hated it. I hated what I was becoming. A ball of rage and anxiety. So I pulled the ripcord.”
“I don’t like it,” Moritz said, resigned. “And you didn’t break my relationship up. Me spending more time with you and the way ‘he who shall not be named’ handled him not being my priority for a couple of weeks just made me realize the cracks that had always been there.”
“Still,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Water under the bridge.” Moritz cleared his throat. “So… can we start over?”
“Sure?” I said, though not certain what he meant.
“I heard you got a job… Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked, sounding a lot calmer than before. I heard rustling in the background as if he’d stopped pacing through his apartment and finally sat down on his sofa that was covered with pillows and throw-blankets.
“Yeah, actually, I really do,” I said, thinking about my new boss, a smile creeping on my face. Zayne… I sighed. “It’s actually a little complicated,” I said, snorting a laugh. “So, I met this guy.”
“You met a guy? You?” Moritz said, almost shrieking. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Because I had to jump through a buttload of legal hoops to be allowed to get a job here,” I said, rolling my eyes. Zayne might not know it, but I already really liked him. So much so that I’d spent the whole last week talking to lawyers, agencies, and I didn’t even know what else to be allowed to work in the US. It was a damn good thing I had more money than I had sense — according to my lawyer — otherwise, this would have never worked out on such short notice.
“What does you having to jump through hoops to be allowed to work have to do with you meeting a guy?”
“He’s gonna be my boss,” I said, thinking back to our conversation, him insisting I was perfect for the job while I’d tried convincing him I wasn’t a good fit at all. In the end, he’d won. Mostly because of the way he’d tried to sell me a job he wanted to give me out of pity — because I’d let him believe I was close to being homeless — was incredibly endearing. Which was stupid. I hated pity. But Zayne felt so… genuine in his concern, I hadn’t had the heart to tell him I really didn’t need a job because I was rich.
Okay.
