by Lisa De Jong
Her expression softened. “And who do you think I think you are?”
Once again, I slouched against my chair and grumbled, “A loser kid who can’t keep his life straight. An arsonist carjacker who took a weapon to school and tried to off the Golden Child.”
Her gaze fixed on mine as if she were reading me like a book. But her stare wasn’t that of judgment. She looked at me with empathy, like she understood. I didn’t quite know how or why, but it seemed as if there was finally another person who would maybe understand.
“Look, Chris. I read your file. I never interpreted any of your charges in the way you’re describing it. I saw a kid who made a few mistakes, a misunderstood teenager who needs people to look past a few bad decisions and see him for what he really is, and a kid with a heart for life and a passion for music. I also saw an honorable guy who would do anything to protect someone he cares about. Am I wrong about that?”
Shit. “No.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said softly. “Can you tell me about her?”
Jesus. I didn’t want to have to talk about it, but something about that woman made me forget to keep my fucking mouth shut. “I don’t understand it myself,” I said, opening my big mouth.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Here we go. Shut up, Chris. Just shut up. But before I knew it, the words came tumbling out. “I mean, I walked into that school hoping to drift invisibly down the halls. I wasn’t there to make friends. All my friends were at Southside. I couldn’t care less about all those spoiled little douchebags at East. Then I saw her, and my plan to be invisible came crumbling down. I didn’t want to care about her. I tried to keep my distance, but I couldn’t help it. Before I knew it, I was writing fucking lyrics about her…couldn’t get her out of my head. Then that asshole boyfriend of hers couldn’t keep his hands off her and I lost my shit. I did it for her and I’d do it again. I don’t understand it…her…us. All I know is that she meant everything to me.” I glanced up at her. She was watching me, nodding her head. She doesn’t think I’m crazy. She believes me.
“I can tell you really love her,” she said softly. She understands me.
I sighed, “Yeah, something like that…”
And then she had to go and ask the hard question.
“Did she feel the same way about you?”
Fuck.
Yes. No. Maybe. “It’s complicated,” I finally responded.
“What do you mean by that?”
Damn. Simple answers don’t satisfy this lady at all, do they? “I mean, it’s fucking complicated. Yeah, I think she loved me back, but she had too much going for her to get mixed up with a convict like me. She was on her way to App State and I was on my way to juvie…there’s nothing simple about that. We were living in two different worlds that would never blend. I don’t think either of us expected to fall in love, but…” I shifted in my seat. My heart pounded in my chest just talking about her. “But when we did fall in love, it was like the whole fucking world had tilted on its axis. You can imagine the uproar the town would be in to see a college bound princess on the arm of a convicted felon.”
She placed her elbows on her legs and clasped her hands in front of her. Resting her chin on her knuckles, she leaned toward me. “That really bothers you, huh? The way people view you?”
Fuck that shit. “No, it doesn’t. I don’t give a damn what people think.”
The crease in her eyebrows told me she was frustrated. With herself? With me? I wasn’t sure. But she seemed to back pedal a little.
“Tell me more about how you ended things with her.”
“We didn’t end anything. Kaitlyn and I walked away from each other that night with our hearts fucking shattered.”
Mrs. Honeycutt nodded her head. “I get it. Heartache is the worst kind of pain.”
Her canned smile and stormy eyes told me this woman knew pain. I could see it in those dark, brooding irises of hers. Maybe she and I would get along after all.
“Yeah,” I said.
She glanced at the clock.
Our time had almost come to an end. Maybe next time I won’t spend so much time being such a dick. I mean, she’s trying…the least I can do is play nice.
She grinned again, but this time it wasn’t canned. It was an honest-to-God smile, holding a joyfulness that reached her eyes. In response, one corner of my own mouth tugged into a half-grin with a true glimmer of happiness—something I hadn’t felt in days.
Maybe Fairbanks won’t be so bad after all.
****
SALEM
Getting a kid to open up on the third meeting like Chris just did was nearly unheard of at Fairbanks. Juvie was a tough gig when it came to getting kids to expose their raw emotions like that. I saw something in Chris that day—something I couldn’t quite put my finger on—but I knew enough to know he’d be making a lot of progress during his time at Fairbanks.
I smiled at him as I ushered him toward the door. “Thank you for sharing with me today, Chris. I really do want to help you. I want you to be able to sort all this out in your head. I believe we’ve made a lot of progress here. Just getting things off your chest helps sometimes. I’m here any time you need me, okay?”
He nodded. “Thanks, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
“Absolutely,” I replied, content with the progress we’d made.
The dimple in his cheek creased as he returned my smile with a coy half grin. “I’ll see you Friday,” he said cheerfully.
We were leaps and bounds ahead of where we started. My heart soared. I love this job.
****
On Thursday afternoon, Greg, another one of the boys on my hall, came bounding into my office.
“Mrs. H, I’m getting out in ten weeks, to the day!”
I smiled. Greg announced his daily countdown every time he saw me for a counseling session.
“I know,” I declared. “Don’t remind me.”
Greg had been at Fairbanks since before I left for maternity leave. I’d been working with him for about four months. He was a kid I worried about…one whom I had a gut feeling he would land himself right back in juvie within a month or so of being released. I didn’t see a lot of reform coming from him. Deep down, he was a sweet kid, but he had poor decision making skills and a rough home life. His dad ran off when he was a baby, leaving his mom to raise four children on her own. Apparently men had drifted in and out of Greg’s life with each one of his mother’s new boyfriends— none of whom were decent role models. His mother’s last boyfriend had been busted for meth, while the one prior to that had been arrested for domestic assault. His older brothers were constantly in and out of jail, and following in his brothers’ footsteps, Greg hung on to that impulsivity that would keep him from making sound life choices. I’d hoped I would see a change in him before he was released, but I had my doubts. He still had ten weeks, so hopefully I would see some progress before it was over.
“My boy, Blaze, can’t wait for me to get out. He said I can move in with him.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” I certainly don’t.
“Oh yeah, definitely. He said I won’t have to pay rent or nothin’. It’ll work out great. My girl, Destiny, she’s waitin’ for me, too. I just hope the next ten weeks fly by.” Greg was like a bouncing ball of pent-up energy.
“For your sake, I hope they do too,” I told him.
Greg swayed back and forth on his feet. “Well, I can’t stay. I just asked Officer Harris if I could swing by and say hi. He told me I could.”
I smiled. “I’m glad you did. You made my day.”
Greg grinned ear to ear. “You always make mine too. See you later, Mrs. H.”
“See you later, Greg.” Let me reiterate. I love my job.
I never knew when I stepped foot into Fairbanks for the very first time just how much this job would end up meaning to me. I loved it in the months prior to Alexis’s birth, but it seemed as though my job had become my saving grace. Every time I thought of h
ome, of my useless husband, of my mentally and physically exhausting role as a mother, of the depression that rotted the very essence of my soul, I would dive further into these clients and bury that hopelessness and despair. These kids were my lifeline—the heartbeat of my empty spirit.
Chapter Six
CHRIS
Session after session, stepping through Mrs. Honeycutt’s door got a little bit easier. My dread lessened and my stubbornness weakened each time I met with her. Much to my dismay, she was slowly but surely getting to me. She would cut into me with those bright, green eyes and I’d bleed my feelings out all over the place like a rare-cooked steak.
Mrs. Honeycutt sat in her usual chair, across from me on the sofa, eyeing me with that same heartfelt compassion that always gripped my fucking heart. Damn. I’m done for.
“Chris,” she leaned toward me in her seat, “I want you to talk to me a little more about Kaitlyn today. Tell me about her. I know you’ve been struggling with this since you’ve been here. Maybe getting a little more off your chest will help.” She smiled expectantly at me like I’d be eager to rip out my own fucking heart and stomp on it.
I groaned, knowing how hard this was going to be. “You already know about Kaitlyn,” I whined.
She nodded. “Yes, I know how you’re hurting over her, but I want to know more than that. I want to know how you met her, how you fell in love with her—good things like that. I want you to leave with a smile on your face today, remembering the good times.” She smiled as though she could use a pick-me-up too. I wondered what was behind that forced smile and those tired eyes.
She leaned back in her chair. “So, why don’t you tell me about the first time you saw her?”
I rubbed my hands across my face. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this, but Mrs. Honeycutt sat there, eager to hear something good—something happy. She definitely looked like she needed her spirits boosted, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Besides, remembering the good things about Kaitlyn helped me get through a lot of shitty days. So, I relaxed in my seat and thought back on that day, telling her all about it.
I didn’t know why I couldn’t just go back to my old school after I left Fairbanks the first time, but my mom insisted I needed a new set of friends. It wasn’t like I murdered someone. Damn! I mean, we were just playing with firecrackers. But there I was in that godforsaken town…in that ancient house with creaky floors and old plumbing…in that stupid school where the teachers grew up there and never left. I thought maybe I’d find someone, hell, anyone who wanted to get out of that place as much as I did. I had big dreams. I was gonna make it big.
I slipped my hoodie over my head and threw my guitar on my back. I wanted a chance to walk through the school and learn my way around. Besides, I needed to get my schedule for the next day.
“Here you are, Chris,” the receptionist said as she handed me my schedule. “The last school bell just rang, so you should have a little time to find all your classes before the teachers leave for the day. But please do not be in the hallways after 3:45pm,” she rushed out. “Our custodian will be checking for stragglers and locking up certain areas of the school for the evening.” She eyed me suspiciously, chuckling nervously as if I were wearing a ski mask and carrying a loaded pistol. I could hardly blame her since there was a certain stigma attached to the word “juvie.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied and winked at her on my way out the door. She giggled like she hadn’t been winked at in a long time.
I easily found all of my classes. I even introduced myself to a few of the teachers. My favorite class, by far, would be Theatre Arts. Ms. Carducci seemed like a real gem…a diamond in the rough. She was really sweet. I knew she and I would get along just fine. My favorite parts of her classroom were all the instruments she kept stored around the room. She even had a fucking ukulele!
“You never know when we’ll be doing a beach scene. A ukulele may come in handy someday,” she’d said with a laugh.
I was still smiling when some jerk rammed into me with his shoulder as he angrily pushed past me.
“Dumb little bitch,” he muttered under his breath.
Steam instantly shot from my ears, and I clenched my fists. “What the fuck did you just call me?” Juvie had a way of making the act of balling my fists up become a natural reaction to almost everything.
“Not you,” he grumbled and stormed off.
I knew that punk better watch himself. I stared after him while he stomped toward the field house near the football field.
I walked to the front of the gymnasium where some dudes were skateboarding. Hanging with skateboarders wasn’t really my thing, but I saw some kid beating the pavement with some drumsticks. Another guy was sitting on the base of the bulldog statue, picking out a few notes on his guitar. I knew immediately that I was amongst friends.
I sat down on the retaining wall near the kid with the guitar and started to strum. Together, we all got a melody and a beat going. Before long, several of us broke out into song. Chicks dig that shit. The skateboarders even seemed to enjoy our performance.
I was lost in the music when I saw her. The epitome of female beauty. It wasn’t even her nice rack or that tight ass that I noticed first. It was her smile…that wide grin with the cute dimple on the side of her cheek.
“I will. See you later, Allen,” she called to one of the skateboarders as she walked past.
I stopped strumming and looked her in the eyes, catching her gaze. Damn, she was so fucking beautiful. Dark brown doe eyes that looked back at me. I can’t explain what occurred in that moment, but I think she felt it too. A feeling of calmness washed over me. I couldn’t tear myself away from her stare, and I wondered who that chick was who had me melting into a sappy puddle on the pavement? That didn’t happen to me. Ever. At least not until that very moment.
I felt it—a connection that I couldn’t explain. I knew in an instant that this was a girl I wanted to get to know. I didn’t know why or how, but I knew it would happen. Some crazy force of nature or some shit.
She was down the stairs and out of my sight when I finally got my wits about me to start strumming again.
“So, the guy…that was the one you pulled a knife on later?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked.
“Huh?” Her voice jarred me from my thoughts and I shook my head a little to come to my senses.
She nodded. “The guy…the one that bumped into you. That was him? The one you got into a fight with?”
“Oh, uh…yeah,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. “Turns out that was him.”
Mrs. Honeycutt frowned, but quickly recovered, “And so when did you actually get to talk to Kaitlyn?”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “The next day. We had class together. I could tell I made her nervous.” A wide smile crept up on my face, remembering her stammering and blushing.
“Good memory?” Mrs. Honeycutt asked, grinning ear to ear.
“Yep,” I said, pleasantly surprised by my sudden happy mood.
She nodded, glancing down at the floor. “It helps to think back on happy times.”
For a moment I wondered if she was directing that comment to me…or herself.
****
SALEM
Group counseling was by far my favorite thing about Thursdays. The boys always grumbled about it, but by the end of the session they all felt a little more relaxed and restored.
“Would anyone like to share a childhood memory with us today?” I asked, glancing around.
The guys liked to talk about their life outside of juvie, so starting the session by sharing memories usually got them to open up a little more for the session.
Greg raised his hand. “I’ve got one, Mrs. H!” he blurted.
“Okay, Greg. Whatcha got for us today?” Leave it to Greg to be the first one to share.
Greg rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Alright, this one time...”
“At band camp,” DeAndre interrupted. The room erupted with laughter whi
le I chuckled inwardly. DeAndre unmistakably held the title of Class Clown.
“Shut up, douchebag,” Greg barked.
“Now, now boys. Let Greg finish,” I chided nicely. The boys stifled their laughter and Greg continued.
“Anyway, like I was saying, this one time my dad took us to a theme park. It was the only time I’ve ever been to one in my life. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was ten. He talked me into riding the Howler, this huge roller coaster that flipped upside down twice and barrel-rolled three times.” Greg used hand gestures to emphasize the size and structure of the ride. “I don’t know how he talked me into getting on it, but he did. And I loved it! We rode it two more times after that until my little sister cried. She and my mom were waiting for us at the exit because she was too short to ride it with us. I guess she got tired of waiting. Anyway, my dad bought us cotton candy and funnel cakes that day. And we got to play all these arcade games. It was a great day!” Just then, Greg got quiet. A somber look crossed his face.
“What happened, Greg?” I prodded.
“I just remembered,” he grumbled. “It was the last weekend he spent with us before he took off and never came back…Maybe it isn’t such a great memory after all.” He slumped in his chair, his eyes glossing over as he stared at a spot on the floor.
I remembered the day my dad never came back, and my heart broke for Greg. “Thank you for sharing it with us, Greg. It’s always nice to remember the fun times we had in life, even despite the tough times.”
I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but I did. After all, this wasn’t my therapy session, but I’d found that sometimes sharing my own life experiences helped others cope with their own.
“My dad died when I was five,” I told the group. A few sets of eyes grew wide and several of the guys leaned in, listening. Others continued to slouch in their chairs as if they weren’t listening. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember him. I was so young. He traveled a lot for work. I remember the night my mom found out about the plane crash. I saw pictures of the wreckage on the news, but I didn’t quite understand. All I knew was that my daddy was gone, and he was never coming back.”