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She hums thoughtfully.
“What?”
“It’s just curious is all. I can tell things are definitely different this time around. You’ve come a long way. The Mason I met two years ago wouldn’t have even entertained this conversation, much less volunteer all that you did.”
My mouth ticks up at that. “Yeah, well. A lot’s changed in two years.”
“I can see that.”
A long beat passes before I say, “I knew hanging onto her—keeping the hope alive that Izzy would one day come back—was…well, not unhealthy, seeing as I don’t know if I’d still be alive if I didn’t come to terms with it on my own time. I knew what the cost of that was…for me.”
Cleo nods. We’ve discussed this already. On numerous occasions since being back in rehab.
Pinching my lip ring between my fingers, I consider my next words. “I just…I didn’t realize it was keeping Waylon and Jeremy from moving on too. Or rather, I wouldn’t let myself see it. We haven’t talked since that night, obviously, so, I mean, I’m just assuming things. But…I guess, in a way, it’s like…I can see things more clearly now. The way everyone’s been more or less walking on eggshells for me these last few years.” A short rusty laugh bursts out of me. “Talk about self-absorbed.”
Cleo’s mouth thins with a smile. Then, “In my experience, the hardest things we’ll have to do in life, often require a bit of selfishness. Be it healing from trauma, getting sober, accepting the loss of someone…”
I nod, acknowledging that.
“It doesn’t mean you aren’t accountable for any harm you might’ve done during that time. But two things can be true at once. It doesn’t negate how far you’ve come, just because your journey wasn’t without its hiccups and setbacks. You own your mistakes. You accept the consequences of those mistakes. But you also give yourself grace, and take pride in the person you’ve become, and the person you’re still becoming.”
Throat tight, all I can do is nod some more.
“Because, Mason, from where I’m sitting…” she goes on, smiling, “you have come so far since the last time you were here. Even in just these last three weeks, I’ve seen more growth from you than I did your entire stay last time you were here. And I know it didn’t come without sacrifice to get to this point. In someone else’s story here, you might very well be the villain, and that’s okay.”
Sniffing, I suck in my cheeks. My knee bobs. I give another short nod, acknowledging this.
“It’s okay,” she continues, “because in your story? In yours, you’re still here. You made it. And you’re fighting like hell to be better. You’ve got your entire life to be the hero in someone else’s story. Don’t waste what could be, because you couldn’t be that version for everyone.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I lean forward slightly, and say thickly, “You’d think with…with how terrified I am of people leaving me, I’d do everything in my power to keep them. To be good enough, I mean. I don’t understand how I even got to this point. I’ve always just wanted to be good. To make people happy. To make them stay.” My voice cracks. Memories of that day so long ago, when Dad drove off, play in my head.
I’ll be better.
I won’t give up.
He’ll come back.
“Pain…fear…” Cleo says. “They make people do desperate things.” A beat passes. “Not to mention, our brains have a tendency to…overcompensate when the pressure gets to be too much. Leads us to behave in contradicting ways.”
At that, I still, and my gaze lifts to hers.
She gives me a small, knowing smile, but says nothing more on that. “We’re just about done for today, but I want to ask you one more thing before I let you leave.”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Why did Jeremy’s…admission…affect you so much?” Cleo asks.
His admission…
What led me here.
“I wish it was me.”
“Is he not entitled to his own grief? Is he not allowed to confide and vent about what he’s going through?”
Frowning, I say, “That’s not why I…”
She arches an expected brow when my voice fails me.
