Page 77 of Walk the Line

“Can you come in here with me, please?” He gestures to his room and although I’m tempted to keep running, like that’s a good way of dealing with my issues, I nod and follow him in. Despite all that’s happened, the warmth and comfort that blankets me whenever I enter his room is a constant.

He crouches down and sits against his bed, an expectant look in his eyes as he watches me.

After a few moments, I get comfortable next to him, loving the smells around me that make up him.

“I made a big point about the avoiding thing because I just wanted to at least be able to ask you if you’re okay and find out the honest answer,” he says, and it’s easy to notice how strained his voice sounds. “I’ve been going out of my mind not…not knowing.”

Why does my heart feel like it’s doing backflips?

“Oh. I’m…why is that question so hard to answer?”

“When was the last time you were asked it?”

Trying to trace it back, I conclude, “I have no idea.”

He nods and all I can notice is the distance between us right now. For once, it’s a gap I feel like closing. “Do you feel awkward about the fact I know what happened at your old university?”

My response is instant. “Definitely.”

I don’t know when I registered the look that crosses his face when he’s in deep thought, but it’s all that surrounds him right now as silence drenches over us in this bedroom.

“When I was sixteen, I went to a party with school friends and was too drunk to come home so I called my dad to pick me up,” he begins, my initial shock linked to the fact he went to a party at school. “He got hit by a car on his way there and that ruined his chances of continuing his successful Hockey career. I hitch a breath. “I always wanted to be like him and that event pushed me even further to lock in on Hockey, even to my detriment. It’s what I’m most ashamed about and the reason why I can be so weird about this shit, like coming here in the summer holidays before term has started, just to practice on the ice everyday.” It feels like puzzle pieces are finally clicking into place. “I’m not saying it’s similar to your situation in the sense that you have something to be ashamed about because you absolutely don’t, but I think you know that I understand you in a way no one else does.” It’s what scares me the most. “We both find it uncomfortable to have our lives and feelings laid bare for others to see and judge, and…listen, I’ll go send this in the group chat if you want me to, but it still wouldn’t make me as brave as you for revealing what you did in front of the whole team because you wanted to resonate with one person.”

I take his hand into mine. I’ve been running away from him for a while, and now I need to show him that I’m here to stay. “Wow. I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” I say.

“Thank you. He’s a good man.”

“Who surely doesn’t blame you, does he?”

“No, I’m the only one who does.”

I stay focused on him, but I can’t help it as my thoughts wander back to the both of us who met that summer day. It was like looking into a mirror when I immediately gathered that he wasn’t the emotional kind, and now it’s like looking into a mirror again as we both have laid our emotions down.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I tell him, knowing that his cheery mum and brother have probably said the same thing to him over the years, and hoping that one day he’ll finally start to see the truth in it.

“It might be better for me if I start to believe that. Can I ask you something about what happened?”

I suck in a breath. “Yeah, sure.”

He rubs his thumb on my hand in a soothing motion and it’s not long before I feel safe enough to speak. “It’s an open question. Anything you want to tell me or not tell me. There’s…one question I do have. Does your mum think it was your fault? But again, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

He rubs his thumb on my hand in a soothing motion and it’s not long before I feel safe enough to speak.“Well, if we’re gonna talk about what my mum believes then a good place to start would be depression and anxiety. She doesn’t believe they are real, even though I always felt the lingering effects of depression throughout my time at school. She would dismiss me whenever I brought it up. And I think subconsciously I started to believe it myself. But then the summer before university started, I felt like I couldn’t manage the amount of change that was coming into my life. It was interesting because I would finally be out of my mum’s house, which would benefit us both. But the whole thing with going to a new city, and meeting all these new people and having all these new experiences…it felt like a lot of pressure. That’s when I started to notice the anxiety. And then when I started Yanton University, from literally the first day I felt terrible. The depression hit me like a brick, and I felt anxious about everything. I stupidly tried to talk to my mum about it, but she just turned it back around on me and made me feel like I was ungrateful for not enjoying the university experience the way I should be. I barely went to lectures and didn’t do the assignments, and it was only the first term. The only thing I did do was go to Hockey practice and games, which might not make sense to people, but it made me feel something. My studies didn’t, but I did want to try, and so I looked into my favourite module and decided to meet with the professor. I thought I was just being paranoid when I got a weird feeling from the way he was looking at me when I entered the room. He hadn’t seen me before, so I thought maybe he was just adjusting to this new person. But then he started talking and it seemed…fine, at first.

“Until he told me that there was no way I would be able to pass the module without his help. I told him I would like his help seeing as he’s the professor. That’s when he said I would need to do something for him first so we would “both be taking a risk.” He put his hand around my neck while he was saying this, and on instinct I pushed him off me and ran the fuck out of there.” His body stills, while his thumb continues on my hand, but I feel it. I feel his anger at what he’s just heard, but he’s trying to keep it together for me. I continue with, “I didn’t tell my mum or anyone straight away because…I don’t know. I felt shame for some reason even though I knew I didn’t do anything. But the whole thing made me feel even worse and that’s when I did decide to tell my mum. Because she doesn’t believe in depression and anxiety, she thought it was pointless for me to even have that kind of meeting in the first place.

“That’s what she focused on. And then she told me that I must be mistaken about what happened. At first. But then a few days later she called me to tell me that the professor had reported that I had assaulted him for no reason. I might have been a disappointment of a daughter to her, but she cares about her public image very much, and just in the case that anyone knew of our ties together, she didn’t want anything out there that would make her look bad. She’s on the Board of Governors of that university, which is why she wanted me to go there in the first place. We’ve never been close, she’s always been cold, but I just felt like I couldn’t say no to her when she would try to dictate my life. So I went to that university and it was easy for her to keep tabs on me. It was even easier for her to make the whole situation that happened, “Go away.” And she could have struck off the expulsion, but she wanted it to stay on my record as punishment for not behaving in the way I should have, which a lot of is to do with my depression and anxiety that she saw as excuses for not involving myself at university life. But of course, she did what she had to do to make sure it wasn’t news anywhere, because that would look bad on her. And now she can hold the expulsion over me if I step out of line here.”

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he huffs through his tight jaw. “And then the Professor?”

Sucking in a breath, I say, “She pulled some strings to get him to retire early.”

“What the fuck?”

“I know. I just hope he hasn’t done anything like that to anyone else.”

“Fuck, I hope not. I can’t believe your mum would do that.”

“Yeah, I haven’t had the best influence growing up.”