Memory Lane

Chapter Twenty One

Thank you all for your patience! I do my best to stick to my weekly updates, but every now and then a week slips by me.

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"How many things would you attempt if you knew you could not fail?" -Robert Frost

Memory Lane: Chapter Twenty One

The next week goes by normally. Jesse doesn't make an appearance at any parties during the weekend, but he did come to The Oven Bird for a moment on Sunday. He only stayed long enough to watch one pool game with me and Allen, heading out directly after.

Today, we went to the support group together. After the full hour of listening to Carl, Jesse convinced me to enjoy another night of cheap takeout with him.

With an aluminum to-go bowl of lamb and rice held carefully in one hand, a small, plastic fork in the other, I shift uncomfortably on the side ledge of Jesse's truck bed and try to avoid spilling any food. He watches me as I continue to fidget, trying to relieve the pain on my tailbone from the skinny ledge. He sets his food down, swallowing the last of what's in his mouth and then jumps down to the ground.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he wretches open the door to the front of the truck.

He emerges with two small throw pillows that look as though they were snatched from a family couch. He tosses them into the back of the truck as he easily gets back up.

I recall last week when I made the random recommendation of him getting pillows if he planned on sitting back here more often. I didn't think he had even acknowledged it.

"You actually remembered pillows?"

"It was a good suggestion."

I smile. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a nice guy."

He rolls his eyes, electing to take another bite of food instead of responding. I place the pillow he handed me under me, feeling instant relief. I let out a small sigh and continue snacking on my dinner.

During the support group earlier this evening, I actually spoke up. It was different from last week. I wasn't as nervous walking in. This time, I didn't feel like the minimal contents of my stomach were about to come back up when I walked through the door.

I felt calm. It was unexpected, but very welcome. It could have had something to do with the fact I walked in with Jesse, or it could have been the fact that I no longer felt like I had to hide from him anymore.

Or, it could have been the fact that I didn't show up late and interrupt the session, resulting in ten pairs of eyes staring directly into my soul.

When I came in- a whole ten minutes before the group started- Combover Carl came over to chat with me. Jesse said a small hello to him before quickly stepping away and taking his seat.

Carl offered to let me introduce myself since I had shied away from doing so last week. He told me I could share as little or as much as I wanted with the group. It was reassuring to actually talk to him before being in front of everyone else.

I didn't say much when the group started. I shared nothing but the skeleton of my story; saying who I am and a quick summary that I lost my parents in a car crash nine months ago.

Even sharing that much seemed to release a bit of the weight constricting my heart.

That weightless feeling, if only lasting for a fleeting moment, kept me engaged during the entire session. I continued to participate all night, chasing that momentary comfort of no longer being alone in my thoughts.