Music continues to play as we eat, switching from modern songs to songs that are from my parents’ teenage years. Amazingly, Ryan knows them all. She sings along to Midnight Train to Georgia, Celebration, and ABC with her parents and mine. The highlight of the impromptu sing-along happens when she and my father sing the Devil Went Down to Georgia, playing air fiddle with the music. Ryan fits in seamlessly with my family and even Lucas seems to enjoy her extensive video game knowledge (he and Jake came out after a while to scavenge for food before heading back in).
Hey friends! Things are really progressing for Ryan and Carter. Meeting the parents, Carter admitting his feelings, and Ryan's parents having someone to talk to about everything that Ryan is going through to adjust their expectations. There's a lot going on, but a lot more to come. Leave me some love and let me know what you think. See you soon!
My parents and I are escorted into the district attorney’s office. His name is Mr. Shift. He stands from his seat and he looks different from what I expected. In my mother’s and my favorite TV show, SVU (well, was my favorite TV show until...that night) the district attorneys are always imposing, sharp-looking men. Mr. Shift looks nothing like that. He’s short, not much taller than me. He has a rather round face and is balding, though he seems quite young. He isn’t wearing a tie and his top shirt button is open. He looks more like a substitute kindergarten teacher than a lawyer. Quickly buttoning his top button, Mr. Shift comes around his desk and extends his hand to my parents. After greeting them, he turns to me and extends his hand. I immediately flinch away.
I had another episode while in my room last night. It was about the first time that I met Mr. Shift. I nearly killed myself trying to run away from the pain that Tommy had put me in. The worst part was that I was nearly asleep when it happened and I wasn’t able to convince myself that it wasn’t real. Jake heard me screaming and ran into my room. I hit him! Thinking it was Tommy coming for me, I reached out and hit Jake. I screamed and clawed and kicked and hit with all my might. My parents came in to see Jake’s face and arms bleeding as he tried to hold me down so that I didn’t hurt myself. When I realized what I’d done, I fall apart. My Jake. My sweet, loving Jake. The one who found me when I tried to kill myself.
I woke up twice during the night, nearly in a panic, until I realized that I was in my room and it was Carter who was holding me. Luckily, someone had left a light on, so I was able to orient myself quickly. Both times, I snuggled back into Carter’s chest and felt his arms tighten around me. Once, he even brushed a kiss over the crown of my head in his sleep. It made me smile, knowing that even in the depths of unconsciousness, he still protected me. When I woke for good, I looked up and saw Carter smiling down at me. “How’d you sleep?” he asked. “Great, thanks to you,” I smile back. “What about you?”
I check the time and see that Ryan and her parents are due in about 10 minutes. I start putting my papers away and setting the room up for clients. Typically, I take Tuesday mornings off for paperwork, but when Ryan’s family called me yesterday, I put them in my schedule. I knew that this was going to be a hard time for her. Ryan hasn’t had to deal with seeing Tommy for almost a year. His lawyer has made multiple appeals and motions to try and overturn the original conviction, but Ryan hasn’t had to appeal in court. Tommy has run out of options and will be sentenced. But that means that Ryan will have to see him again to give her impact statement. Even though we have all known it was coming, PTSD doesn’t take longevity into account. I had suspected and feared that she would begin having more and more episodes.
“So, what about Carter holding you helped you calm down?” I ask. Ryan smiles at him and he smiles back. “I feel safe with him. I trust him. He doesn’t hold any of this against me. He understands.” I almost feel like I’m intruding a little with the intense eye contact that they are giving each other. But I need to ask more questions. “So, tell me what about Carter is different from your parents and your friends, other than the obvious romantic relationship.” At that, the eye contact breaks between them and Ryan looks at me.
After waiting for about 30 minutes, Lisa opens the door and ushers us in. Carter is sitting on the couch next to Ryan. They both stand up and he kisses her cheek. “I’ll be right outside, ok?” he says. Then he goes out to the waiting room. I have so many mixed feelings about Carter. He’s a great young man, he really is. He’s kind, thoughtful, polite, courteous, and generous. Plus, he’s a great cook! Honestly, if Tommy had never been a part of our lives, I would say that Carter was the perfect guy for Ryan. But Tommy was and continues to be a part of our lives and there is a small part of me that wants to scream anytime Carter goes anywhere near my daughte
Ryan exploded out of Lisa’s office and immediately walked outside. I follow her out. Lisa shares an office with several other therapists. The building is surrounded by a wide grassy lawn with a flower garden and benches, a water fountain, and what looks like a walking path that doubles as some sort of maze. There is a sign outside of the maze that says “Meditative Walking Path.” Ryan heads towards the path. “Ryan!” I call after her. “Ryan, what’s wrong?” She turns around and her face is splotchy with tears running down her cheeks. “My parents. Of all the people that I need to understand, they just
I see Ryan and Carter stand up from the middle of the meditation path and begin folding blankets. Ryan often goes to the path when she is upset, so it doesn’t surprise me that she is there. And that Carter is there with her. Damn, I really screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at her. I shouldn’t have brought this up at all. Lisa is completely right. Joyce and I are expecting Ryan to come to us with everything that hurts and that we can help her. Just like when I used to kiss her cuts and scrapes as a child. But that isn’t how this works. I have to accept it. I have to do the work. Joyce steps out of the office and next to me on the porch. She had been with the receptionist, making an appointment with our therapist.