32. Moon

I'm laying on my couch like a dead fish, trying to shut up my mind with the TV on when I feel something on my cheek.

It creeps me the fuck out so I shoot up and bang against Aron's head.

"Ow! Jesus!" He holds his hand to his lip.

"Why the hell would you scare me like that?!"

"I wasn't trying to scare you, I thought you heard me come in."

I look at his lip. It's bleeding.

I get up.

"Do you need some ice?"

"I'm fine. No need."

I go into the fridge and grab an ice pack anyway.

"Come here." I wrap the ice pack in a cloth.

He sighs and stands across from me.

"Sorry." I say as I hold the cold pack to his face. He doesn't even flinch.

He looks at me, his eyes soft and loving. He's smiling a little.

"Don't look at me like that." My cheeks heat up and surely, I'm blushing.

"It's funny to see your maternal side." He grins.

I roll my eyes and dump the ice pack on him. I walk to the couch. "Forget it."

He laughs.

I sigh and fall back down on the couch, fish formation.

Just a few minutes later I can smell delicious aromas from the kitchen. My stomach growls.

"You seriously need to learn to cook. This isn't healthy."

"It's no use. I'll never be able to cook like you."

"Well, at least learn to wash vegetables and fruit and eat em." Aron goes on about the importance of diet but I zone out.

I think about what Steven said. I wonder if it might maybe make me better if I did therapy. Is there really something that could fix me?

"Sky," Aron's sitting next to me and holding the back of my neck.

"Huh?" I look up at him.

"Where's your mind?" He asks.

I pull my legs up to my chest.

"You know the guy from the carwash?"

"The creep?"

I nod.

"He's Chase's dad."

Aron's instantly looks annoyed. "That explains a lot." He says.

"Right, well, he said he could tell that I wasn't feeling so good so he offered to get me therapy. Like, for free."

Aron looks confused and slightly suspicious. Exactly as I was.

"Why?" He asks.

"Well, he said that I'm important to Chase so he wants to help me for his sake or something."

Aron nods understandingly.

"What, you think that makes sense?" I ask, surprised.

"Well, yeah. His son just tried to commit suicide. If you're something that's going to keep him alive than it's not so weird he'd do anything to keep you.. well.. alive."

I didn't look at it like that. Or I guess it seemed a bit far fetched to me.

"What did you say?" Aron asks.

"Well, I said no."

Aron nods, then frowns, looking away.

"What?"

"Well... I think you should do it." He says, eyes back on me.

I smile sadly. "Because you've seen all my breakdowns and you can confirm that I am, in fact, a nut job." I say.

"No, Sky." He eyes me seriously. "I've seen how much pain you're in. I've seen how much you hurt, no matter how hard you try to mask it. And it's eating you alive. You can't do this alone—"

"But I have you, don't I?"

"You do. You do. But.. I can't help you with this." There's some frustration in his eyes as he says this. "You know I've tried." It's almost an apology.

"It's not your fault. And.. it's not your job to fix me.. I guess." I look at the television. All this talk about how fucked up I am is really depressing.

"If.." He starts.

I look at Aron.

"If you don't want some stranger paying for your therapy, I could do it." Aron offers.

"No." I shake my head. "Absolutely not."

"Why not? I'm your boyfriend, this is the least I can do—"

"And that's why! You're my boyfriend! I'm not gonna let you treat me like some fucking charity case!"

"That's not what this is! I'm just trying to help you!" Aron protests.

"Well, don't!" I lash out.

I look over at the screen again. Aron closes his eyes and sighs.

"Fine." He gets off the couch and goes back to the kitchen.

Why do I keep screaming at him? Why do I keep hurting the people I love? I'm so terrible. I hate myself.

I squeeze my leg to keep myself from crying.

"Call the guy and tell him you'll do it."

It's not even a question. It's a straight up command.

I look over at Aron.

He's smoking while stirring into a pot. He won't look at me.

"I can't take this anymore, Sky." His voice breaks in the middle.

And so does my heart. Hearing him all crumbled up over me..

I can't hold back that tear now. It rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly.

"Okay." I say quietly.

Later that night Aron and I had our dinner in silence after which he went home. I'm alone in my room dialing Steven's number.

"Yello, It's Stevie." He says jovially.

"Hi. It's Sky." I say quietly. This is so embarrassing.

"Hey, Sky." His voice sounds warm and kind of relieved.

"I.. I wanna do it. The therapy. If you still want to.."

"Of course I do! I'm so happy you're calling, Sky."

"Don't expect any miracles, though. I'm a pretty awful person." I look at the moon outside my window.

"You're a better person than you think, Sky."

I sigh. So everyone says.

As I break their hearts over and over.

"I won't just let you buy it for me, though. I'll pay you back." I say.

"I assure you, there's no need for that. There is something else that you can give me. It's not money.." I can hear a sly laugh on the other side of the phone.

My shoulders slump. Here it goes. I knew it. There's always a catch.

"In return for me paying for your therapy, I would like for you to do two things. Number one: Never miss a session, no matter what,"

I think about this. That doesn't seem unfair at all. That's the least I can do.

"Done."

"And the other thing.. I would appreciate it if you came to dinner with Loren, Chase and myself every two weeks on Saturday. It would be great for Chase."

Wait, that's it? All I have to do is show up and visit Chase? The things I was thinking were way worse.

"Yeah, of course." I say, kind of stunned in disbelief.

"Splendid!" He claps.

What a strange man. Once again, Chase.

"Okay. So.. when can I start?" I ask, kind of hopelessly. I've heard that those waiting lists are terrible.

"Well, normally it would take at least four months but since it's my friend we're talking about, I believe I can get you in as early as this week."

That kind of shocks me. I didn't expect it so soon.

I won't have time to prepare. To even adjust to the idea that I'm going to a fucking psych ward.

"O-oh." I answer lamely. "Okay."

"How does coming Friday sound?"