Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I laughed, the truth of my life hitting me in that moment. I’d been through a lot of shit, had a lot of terrible things happen to me, but there was a whole hell of a lot of beauty in my life too. I just had to be willing to see it and accept it. “Yeah, you can meet him.”
Gage got out and lingered by his car, which I knew was for my benefit more than anything else. I signaled for him to come over. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and crossed the lot with long strides, meeting me at the bay door.
“Angel, um…wants to meet you.”
“Cool. I want to meet him too.”
I led him over to Angel and the Mustang he’d been working on. He was bent under the hood, then stood straight as if surprised to see Gage.
“Gage, this is Angel—Angel, Gage.”
Gage held his hand out. “Hey, man. Nice to meet you.”
Angel wiped his hand on his coveralls. “I’m greasy.”
“No problem. I don’t give a shit about that. I miss having greasy hands from working on a car,” Gage replied, and they shook.
“So you deal with this one, huh?” Angel nodded toward me.
“He deals with me, is more like it,” Gage replied, which we both knew wasn’t the truth.
The three of us talked for a few minutes before Angel said, “I’ll let you guys go eat. My girl and I were hoping the two of you would come hang out sometime, have dinner or a drink with us, or something.”
Gage’s eyes darted toward me—always looking out for me, always putting my needs first—then away as if he wasn’t sure what to say. He settled on, “We’ll see what we can figure out.”
His reply was ambiguous, again for my benefit. It made me say, “I wouldn’t want to upset Maria.” That was my way of saying yes.
“No, man, you wouldn’t.” Angel laughed.
We said our goodbyes after that and went to this little place a few doors down from the garage that had every kind of comfort food you could want—burgers, breakfast, Mexican, you name it.
I ordered breakfast, and Gage got a burger and fries. Once they called our number, we went to the tables outside to eat.
“I like Angel. Seems like a solid guy.”
“He is. I only know him through work. Maria does office work a couple of days a week, and they’ve been trying to get me to hang out for a while, but I never do.”
“We can, if you want.”
“I know.”
We were quiet then, eating. When we were almost done, Gage asked, “Are you nervous? About today?”
There was no reason to lie to him, and he would know it anyway. I looked down at the pattern on the metal table. “Yeah.”
“Want me to drive you?”
“No, I…I think this is something I need to do myself.”
He nodded, supportive as always. “Let me know if you change your mind. If you need me, I’ll be there. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago I called you in the middle of the night because I dreamed I killed you.”
I could sense in the tone of his voice…shame, maybe? Self-deprecation?
I said, “That’s not funny. If it’s okay for me to need you, it’s okay for you to need me. We both have our shit.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” He reached for me, then hesitated, as if unsure he could touch me in public. We hadn’t had that when we were kids—it was all in secret, behind closed doors, unless we were with Mouse and Romeo.
He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, tugged me closer, and pressed our foreheads together. His finger grazed back and forth over my nape. He didn’t give me words, but I didn’t need them. A few seconds later, he kissed my temple and pulled away.
My therapist’s name was Rose. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, with black hair and a kind smile.
I sat on the couch, Rose in an armchair beside it. A small diffuser in the corner scented the air softly with lavender. Her desk and computer were on the other side of the room, and I appreciated that she sat closer to me. It felt more natural and less like an appointment.
“I want you to know, this is one hundred percent a safe space. Unless I’m worried about your safety or that of someone else, nothing goes beyond these walls.”
I nodded, my jaw glued shut.
“We’re going to take this at your pace. You only have to tell me what you feel comfortable telling me, okay? There’s no rush.”
“Thanks.” Oh, there was my voice.
She asked some standard questions first, before adding, “Why don’t you tell me a little about why you’re here? I read over the intake paperwork you filled out online, but I’d like to hear it from you in person, if you don’t mind. Or if we’re going too fast, we can talk about something else first. I want to do what feels more comfortable for you.”