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Dinner with Tommy and Karma was in just a couple hours, and I found myself sitting around, waiting for Freya to get back from work.
The last few days since getting back from Florida had been a nightmare. I’d gone to several auto shops around the area, but none of them were offering any kind of decent wage since they were all starter positions. Not good for a guy like me with decades of experience. So, instead of calling or going out to another shop since I was running out of daylight, I made the call I’d been avoiding for the last week. I called my therapist.
And of course, my call went right to an answering machine.
I left my name, number, and a quick update, then hung up and wandered around the house again. Picking up the slightly damp rag I’d used to clean over the kitchen earlier, I went back over the counters and tabletop even though they didn’t need it. They were white glove clean already. If I didn’t get a job soon, I was legitimately going to go in-fucking-sane.
My cell rang just as I started wiping down the cupboards to entertain myself, so I dropped the rag and answered, hoping for good news of some kind.
“Hello Ashton, I’m glad to hear from you,” came the voice of my therapist over the line.
I hadn’t expected to hear from him, but it calmed me immediately in a way I couldn’t explain.
“Hi Derrick,” I said back. “Sorry I missed my last appointment. Some shit came up.”
“Not a problem. I heard a nasty rumor that you’re moving out of town.”
“Not a rumor, and I’ve already moved,” I admitted. “That girl we talked about so many times? Yeah, we’re together. We worked through our shit and we’re in love. So, I’d be an idiot to stay in Florida when she’s in Vegas.”
He chuckled.
“That’s great! Are you happy?”
Good fucking question.
After taking a second to think about it, I answered with surety, “I am.”
“I’m so happy to hear that, Ashton!”
“Yeah, me too.” I chuckled. “But hey, I didn’t mean to take up your time. I know you’re a busy guy.”
“Nonsense. My last appointment didn’t show, so I have some time. We’ll bill you later.”
I barked a laugh, and he laughed along with me because what he really meant is that he’d bill the VA for it.
“Well, if you’re offering,” I mused, “I had another episode last week.”
“You did? What happened?”
“Long story,” I blew out a long breath. “My dad died so I was in Chicago to bury the bastard. Freya insisted on coming too, so I showed her around town like she asked, which ended in a shootout. It was worse than a TV drama.”
He whistled.
“Sounds like an awful night.”
I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Not really. I mean, having an episode sucked, but it brought us together, you know? She was able to talk me down from it within seconds, which was pretty incredible.”
“Did she talk you down, or did you talk yourself through it?”
“Maybe a bit of both,” I admitted. “I did what you told me to do. I reminded myself that it was a memory, and that it was triggered by the gunfire. That helped a little. So did hearing her voice.”
“That is significant improvement,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, not sure what to do with those four words, ‘I’m proud of you’.
“So,” I choked, trying to clear my throat of my emotions. “I guess I’ll need a referral to someone out here.”
