A Broken Kind of Life (21 page)

“Okay, I’ll get the paperwork together to have your records transferred from your current therapist. The first thing that I’d like for you to do is start a journal. You can write it in a book you bring with you, or maybe on your laptop,” Dr. Thomas instructed, taking a few notes in his notebook.

“Is it something you’re going to look at?” Aaron asked, his mind racing through the possibilities of what kind of program he’d want to use. There was no doubt this would be something he’d do on the computer, because he hated writing longhand.

“Yes, at least parts of it,” the older man said, watching Aaron’s face closely.

Aaron thought about that for a moment and then nodded.

“I will give you directed exercises to write about, or you may want to write about things we’ve talked about in our sessions. This will give you an outlet for that.”

A blog.

“I can put up a blog and set it so that only friends can see the entries. That way, I can also make some of the entries private so that no one can see them but me,” Aaron told him with a shrug. The thought of keeping a diary, even an electronic one, wasn’t all that appealing to him, but that glimmer of hope had started to rekindle in the back of his mind. He’d seen that glimmer once or twice before with the first few shrinks, but it soon became apparent they were completely inept when it came to helping him become human again. The hope had not resurfaced again, no matter how many shrinks his parents found for him.

Until now.

It wasn’t just Dr. Thomas who made him feel hopeful; it was also Spencer. As Aaron looked up at his new friend, who smiled, Aaron felt the last vestiges of his panic and fear subside. It was strange how Aaron seemed to feel calmer with Spencer there after the flashback he’d experienced.

“I think that would work out well,” Spencer’s father said and followed his son into the kitchen, taking plates and glasses. Aaron looked around the large, comfortable room while he waited for them to return. He liked this room. It was light and airy, not oppressive like his bedroom. More than once, he’d wished for the same floor-to-ceiling windows that covered an entire wall of this room, just to get away from the dark.

Finally, taking longer than Aaron had expected, Spencer and his father came back into the room. Spencer’s father was watching him, making Aaron feel a little uncomfortable. Spencer, however, looked almost… happy.

“Aaron, I have decided on your first directed exercise for the blog,” Dr. Thomas said carefully. “Once Spencer has taken you home, I want you to create the blog and send me a link. First, write about how you feel about starting therapy with me, and second….” He paused for a long moment, looking back at Spencer, who smiled. “Second, I would like for you to describe how you believe you were able to touch Spencer immediately after your flashback, when you are seemingly unable to have anyone else touch you.”

Aaron was stunned, and at first he considered the possibility that Spencer’s father was lying to him, and then… he looked at Spencer. Where he expected to see pity in Spencer’s eyes, he saw only hope and something he didn’t quite understand. It was the kind of look his mother gave him when he expressed any kind of interest in anything.

“Wait, what? I….” Aaron didn’t need to finish the sentence, because Spencer nodded at him enthusiastically. Closing his mouth, he realized he was still staring at Spencer, who merely smiled at him, affirming he had in fact touched Spencer. It was something he had no conscious knowledge of, and he couldn’t wait to get Spencer in the car so he could ask him about it.

“So, I just reached up and touched your face?” Aaron asked in utter disbelief after Spencer explained what had happened. He had absolutely no memory of it. Vaguely, he recalled he had wanted Spencer to look at him so he could make his friend feel better. It had been Aaron’s fault, not Spencer’s, that he’d had a flashback. Normal people could tolerate being tapped on the shoulder; there was no way Aaron could let Spencer feel guilty. Spencer had been looking down, and that frustrated Aaron because, not only did that cut off their communication, but he found he liked looking into his friend’s face. His eyes expressed every emotion, every reaction, just as if he’d spoken them aloud.

Spencer nodded, and the barest trace of a smile pulled his lips up at the corner. Aaron smiled in spite of himself. Deep down, he had to admit he liked the idea of touching Spencer’s face. He just wished he knew how it had been possible.

As Spencer drove, silence fell over the car, and Aaron became lost in his thoughts. So much had changed about his life in the last few hours, which was strange to him since he still felt like the same damaged person he had been when he left for school that morning. Dr. Thomas had given him so much to think about, including, it seemed, his very first breakthrough.

His mother stopped him with questions about his forehead, startled that something had happened to him. He tried not to think about the last time he’d been hurt when she hadn’t been there. With more patience than he knew he had, Aaron told her he’d cleaned it and dressed it himself. No, he didn’t need her to check it. Yes, he’d put on antiseptic. Finally, he told her he had homework just so he could get away.

When he got up to his room, Aaron quickly pulled out his laptop and sat on his bed. There were hundreds of sites he could use for his blog, but a quick search of his favorite technology reviews narrowed down his options. What he really needed was a site where he could choose to publish some of his entries to registered users and some only for himself. There were just some things Aaron was sure Dr. Thomas would have him write about that the good doctor didn’t need to see.

Aaron found a site that matched his requirements, and it didn’t take long to create the address. It actually took longer to come up with a title than the address. “A Broken Kind of Life;” that just about summed it up.

The first blog entry, the one where he got to be poetic and introspective, came rather quickly, so he created a new post and started to type.

A Light in the Darkness

Posted by Aaron at
8/28/2010 6:43 PM
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Personal

Darkness pervades my every thought, my every action. There is nothing, not a single reprieve from the horror that lives inside my head. It has ensconced itself, as surely as if it had been born there. Maybe it had. Had there always been a dark place inside of me, and it merely took that one unspeakable act of violence to unleash it?

But what of the light?

“H
OW
did your study session with Spencer go?” Aaron’s mother asked him as she came up that night to call him for dinner. Feeling immensely guilty about not sharing his flashback or his talk with Dr. Thomas, he merely replied that it had been fine. Her face lit up, and she seemed genuinely pleased that he was able to socialize. Aaron didn’t have any concrete reason to hide his new relationship with Dr. Thomas, but deep down he held on to the belief that seeing this new therapist on his terms without any involvement from his parents would make a difference. That maybe because it was something he was doing for himself rather than something they were doing for him, there would be a positive outcome.

“I’m glad that you two had a nice day. Why don’t you wash up and come down for dinner? I made tacos,” she told him, smiling as she picked up his laundry hamper and left the room. For the first time in his life, he felt a little guilty about allowing her to wait on him like that and resolved to take it down to the laundry room next time and get his brothers to do the same. He could do that. It’s not like the laundry room was in the basement. One step at a time.

It was about time the Downing boys started carrying their weight.

“Allen, could you hand me the cheese?” Aaron asked his brother as they sat at the dining room table a little while later. While his mother watched, stunned, Aaron dug into his third taco. He hadn’t eaten very much of the pizza at Spencer’s, and he found, to his delight, he was rather hungry. It didn’t happen often, and he was going to take full advantage. Allen looked at him for a minute and then set the bowl of shredded cheddar cheese between them. Anthony, who sat across from Aaron, was on his fifth taco.

“Okay, if you boys are going to eat like this every night, you’re going to have to get jobs,” John Downing commented as he watched his sons, completely delighted. Between them, the boys had eaten well over a dozen tacos, and it didn’t look like they’d be stopping anytime soon. Aaron looked up just in time to catch the glowing look his parents exchanged, and it made him smile. His parents hadn’t smiled, hadn’t looked happy like that, in a long time.

“We should have a cookout this weekend,” Anthony thought out loud between huge mouthfuls of food. “We haven’t done that in, like, forever.” Looking up hopefully at his father and then his mother, he smiled, and then at Allen’s loud guffaws, picked the lettuce off his face.

As his mother started to answer, Aaron laughed, while she stopped midsentence and looked on in amusement.

For just one evening, it was almost as if nothing had happened, like he was normal. Aaron wished he knew how to make that last. He was almost reluctant to let it end and go upstairs to work on the blog. Shattering the good feeling hurt his heart, but after a few minutes, he trudged up to his room and sat down at his desk.

A Touch of Magic

Posted by Aaron at
8/28/2010 9:12 PM
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Therapy

When Dr. Thomas told me that I had touched Spencer, not once, but several times during the course of my episode, I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t until my eyes found Spencer’s and I saw, not the pity that I had expected, but hope, that I decided it must be true.

But why?

My own mother, the person that I love most, who is closer to me than anyone else, can’t touch me. This boy, whom I have known but a few weeks, has broken through when no one else could. How is that even possible?

My whole life, even when I was a child, people told me that I had an analytical mind. I suppose that is why I always excelled at debate. Lately, my intellect has been completely overshadowed by fear and emotion, except when I am coding. It is only then, lost in the logic and the syntax, when my mind is fully engaged, that I feel any kind of connection to the boy that I had been. When I code, I don’t feel helpless.

Is that the key?

It can’t be. There are other people, the instructor and other students, that I associate with programming. I didn’t reach out and touch them. Those people aren’t friends, though. Spencer is the first friend I have made since Juliette was killed. No one had ever approached me, had ever extended that hand of friendship.

Is that the difference?

How can kinship with a friend outweigh the relationship I have with my mother or my brothers? I’ve never reached out and touched my mom or Allen. A simple pat on the shoulder or just grabbing my hand causes an immediate panic. Even before their hand reached me, my whole body would tense, making my heart race.

With Spencer, I didn’t even think about it. I just reached out for him.

Maybe that is the point.

I reached out for him. I controlled the touch. Could it really be that simple?

His hands shook as he typed the last word. Shifting in his desk chair, his back protested from being so tense for such an extended period. Time seemed to stop while he wrote, but his computer clock told him it had taken an hour just to write those simple paragraphs. He reread the last few lines. Maybe that was the secret—it was contact he initiated. But somehow, he didn’t think that was the entire reason for success. Deep down, he believed he could touch Spencer not only because it was something within his control, but also… because it was
Spencer
. Aaron didn’t want to admit this in a blog entry Dr. Thomas would read, but he couldn’t help but feel there was something special about Spencer that allowed the contact to happen. Either because he was so understanding of Aaron’s problems, or because he was such a great friend.

In his whole life he’d never felt closer to anyone, not even Juliette, and it had happened so quickly.

“I think you made very good progress with the blog,” Dr. Thomas said a few days later, as Aaron sat cross-legged on the floor of the rec room eating Chinese takeout. Spencer and his father had mastered the art of chopsticks, but Aaron ate with a fork, much to Spencer’s amusement. The doctor had read Aaron’s blog post aloud at the start of the session, so he felt relieved he hadn’t put in anything about how close he felt to Spencer. Neither Spencer nor his father needed to know that bit, especially since he wasn’t really sure what it meant.

“Thanks. I’d never really thought about doing a blog before. The shrinks always wanted me to keep a diary, but it felt kind of girly. The blog makes more sense to me because I can configure the security on it and keep the things I want private from ever being seen. I feel more comfortable with that than with a little heart-shaped lock that wouldn’t even keep out my twelve-year-old brother.” Aaron took another long drink of soda to wash down the spicy noodles. His parents didn’t like Chinese food, so he’d never had it before. Too embarrassed to admit that, he ordered the same thing Spencer got, and to his surprise, he really liked the chicken and noodle dish.

“I’m glad you feel comfortable with it. I think it’s going to be invaluable when you start analyzing some of your behavior patterns. I have a few more questions I want to address before we get to today’s session. Do you self-medicate?” Dr. Thomas asked as he set his Chinese takeout box on the table and picked up the notebook he used for their sessions. A pen appeared almost out of nowhere, and he looked up at Aaron expectantly.

“I don’t know what you mean. Like do I take the pills myself without following the directions or something?” Aaron asked as he pulled another forkful of noodles from the container and popped them in his mouth.

“That, or do you drink?”