Page 77 of Because of Dylan

Fuck you, Theodore.

You’re dead.

Now stay dead.

I take a step closer to River, her hands open, and her arms come around me. She pulls me into a hug my body wants to reject. I shut it down. I shut it all down.

Breathe,I command myself.

River holds me, and little by little the stiffness in my muscles gives away. I ease into her embrace, and I hug her back.

Then the tears come.

River holds me until the sobs stop and the rigidness leaves me. She gives me a tighter squeeze and steps back, her hands still holding mine. “I love you, you know? You’re my best friend, and you can count on me. I’m in your corner. Always.”

I wipe my face with a sleeve. “I know. You’ve always had my back, even when I let you down.”

River squeezes my hands. “You never let me down.”

“I did. More than once. I didn’t know how to be a friend. But I’m learning. You’re teaching me.”

River smiles and blinks away her own tears. I’m glad we’re in the middle of a field, and there’s no one close enough to see us. We’re a mess.

She links her arm through mine, and we fall into step walking again. She bumps her shoulder into me. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you. I wish I could do or say something to make it better.”

“You already have. More than you know.”

She stops. “I haven’t done a thing. I almost wish the bastard were alive. I have this big rusty knife at home …”

That makes me laugh. I’m a fucking mess. I’m crying and laughing and then crying again. “But you did, River. You somehow found me and forced your friendship on me whether or not I wanted it, and you didn’t let me get away. And I tried.”

River shrugs. “You know I can’t say no to a challenge.”

“So I was a challenge?”

She holds up her thumb and pointer finger. “A tiny bit.”

We find a bench and take a seat. “I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you.”

“Don’t.” River puts a hand up. “You didn’t dump anything on me. I’m glad you told me. It gives me a fresh perspective. I wish you had told me sooner. I wish I could have done more.”

“I couldn’t. I could never have said anything before. I’ve told no one.”

“What changed?”

“I finally got the help I needed.” I pull my legs up onto the bench and brace my knees.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking to a therapist.”

River reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “I’m so glad you are. How long have you been seeing her?”

“It’s a he, and I never met him in person. We talk over the phone only.”

River frowns. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s this program hosted by several universities, and you can text or call, and it’s all anonymous. But it’s not like traditional therapy, at least not like the therapy you see in movies. It’s more like talking to a friend, a wise and smart friend who’s on to your bullshit and calls you out on it.”

---