Page 19 of Stroke Rate

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As Chris packed his bags, he came up with a plan. As he walked to the airport, he talked himself off a ledge, and as he sat in his seat waiting for the plane to take off, he sent one more pathetic text hoping River will have responded by the time he touches down in Denver.

Chris

I’m sorry, please don’t ignore me.

Chapter seventeen

River

One month later

“Why don’t you tell me what you have been up to?” Oceana, his psychologist, had asked him at their session on his first day back after getting home from Indianapolis. On his way to the airport, he had messaged her and asked for an emergency session; needing an outside source to give him some insight into the mess that was swirling in his head. He didn’t want to talk to Brooke about it, and he definitely wasn’t about to talk to Chris about it. He needed to let that whole mess lie. Needed to forget it even happened and move on. Hope that Chris did the same. His brain was a scrambled mess, his speech was even worse, and talking with Oceana had helped him some after the accident, so he figured her office was as good a place as any to start.

River blew out a deep breath. “W-well,” he stammered. “I tried to start coaching again?” Oceana nodded, waiting for him to continue. “What I-I-I mean is. Is that I went and met with a possible new sw-sw-swimmer? One I'd love to coach, b-bu-but I made a m-m-mistake.”

“Okay, well, first I’d like to say congratulations, River. The last time we spoke, you were nowhere near ready to start again. So that’s great progress. Would you like to tell me about the mistake?”

Despite a strong desire to avoid mentioning the mistake, he realized it was why he was there. “So I met with the swimmer, and it was great. He was great. But th-th-then. W-w-we s-s-slept together,” he said.

“Okay,” she said on an exhale. “Do you want to tell me how you feel about that?”

River shook his head. He needed a minute to gather himself, to get his thoughts together. Because admitting what he had done, saying it out loud brought all his feelings of guilt, shame, and remorse to the surface again. He pinched his lip and watched his leg bounce up and down, up and down.

“Okay River. Let's maybe start somewhere easier. How about you just catch me up on what you have been up to. We haven’t talked in close to a year, and in our last session, we talked about your PTSD and ways to combat that when everything became too overwhelming.”

He nodded; he could do this, he could talk about this. “Well,” he started. “Let's see. I have been practicing what we discussed. W-when things get t-t-too overwhelming. When I s-s-start to feel th-the panic s-start, I breathe. I try to practice m-mindfulness, to s-stay p-present.”

Oceana’s eyes were soft, as she nodded. “That’s good, River. Really good. Can you tell me what has been working best. When you get overwhelmed?”

“I-I l-like to kick,” he whispered.

“You like to kick? I like that, can you tell me more?”

“Yeah, um I-I like to-to lie on my st-stomach on the b-bed and k-kick my legs like I-I am in a pool. L-like I a-am swimming.” He blew out a deep breath and looked up at Oceana again.

She smiled, nodding her head. “That’s really cool, River. I'm so glad you found something that has helped.”

River made himself comfortable on Oceana's soft office couch, took his shoes off and tucked his feet under him. On Mondays, and sometimes Wednesdays, River would settle in, gaze out the window, and await Oceana's initial question. The routine had become second nature by now. He drove to Oceana's office, ready to begin the week, and prepared to unpack the mental tangle in his mind.

Oceana sat in her chair next to the couch, tapping a pen against her notebook, her long gray hair tied up in a loose bun on top of her head with two brightly colored chopsticks adorning her mop of hair. Oceana’s eyes crinkled behind her large round glasses as she peered at him. She had an almost insect-like quality about her, akin to a praying mantis, with large, almond-shaped eyes, a thin body, and long, lanky limbs. Her head tilted from side to side, assessing River, before starting their session.

“You look good today, River. Less tired. Are the nightmares better?” she asked.

He shrugged; he did feel better today. He had slept last night without nightmares, which was a blessing. “I slept well last night. Feeling a little better since last week, although I’m having nightmares more often than not.” River confessed, then took a minute to gather himself. He knew what he wanted to talk about today. They had been dancing around this conversation for weeks; he wanted to talk about Chris. More importantly, he wanted to talk about his guilt surrounding the whole situation and how hard it had been to not feel as though he had betrayed Coop by sleeping with someone else. By wanting someone else. He cleared his throat and pinched his lip, “Can we talk about Indianapolis and what happened with Chris today?” His voice was barely audible, almost a whisper, yet his stuttering was kept in check.

“If you’re ready, we absolutely can. What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, you know we slept together, and you know how guilty I feel. I just can’t get over the feeling that I am betraying Coop.” River blew out a deep breath, pinching his lip again as he dazed out the window. Oceana’s office was on the top floor of an office building; the wall across from the couch was a vast picture window with a panoramic view of Green Mountain. River could see the top, and all the hiking trails that zigzagged up and down the mountain. If he squinted, he could see small ant-like figures zipping their way up and down the brown, sandy trails he and Coop used to hike weekly. “So, we slept together. He's younger, and I wanted to coach him, but I crossed that line, and now I'm not sure what to do. After…I kind of freaked out. I just feel so guilty about all of it,” River said, and then growled out his frustration.

“Mmm,” she responded, looking at River with a twinkle in her eye, her brows scrunched in humor or confusion. “Okay, and I'm assuming he is of legal age, and so you both were consenting adults. So, I'm having a hard time seeing the issue? I suppose it wasn’t in good form to sleep with a potential client, but things happen, River.” She shrugged as if the whole situation weren’t a problem. “You have been through a lot and are so hard on yourself. Don’t you think you deserve a little fun? A little light to even out the darkness you have been stumbling through?”

“I really don’t, and sometimes I think if I move on, if I stop grieving, that Coop’s life was for nothing. No one will remember him. No one else will keep his memory alive. It’s such a waste!” His pathetic, raspy yell echoed around them. “And here I am sleeping with someone else, going to lunch with someone else, never thinking of Coop once. If I forget him, if I stop. Then that’s it, he’s gone forever.” River choked on a sob. “I just don’t want his life to be a waste. I don’t want to forget him.” River cradled his face in his hands and sobbed, until he was able to speak again.