“I believe you were next, ma’am,” I said to the woman sitting beside Ben.
“I’m Ben’s mom, Jackie. I’m 43. I’m here to be with him, and also because I have a hard time letting him go anywhere since the shooting. I’m afraid something will happen to him, and my anxiety is off the charts over it.”
“Thank you, Jackie. I’m glad you recognize it’s anxiety and what triggers it. We can work together on that. And, you, sir?” I said.
I knew Tyler was next, and frankly I barely listened to the old guy talking about how his house was broken into and it made him feel unsafe. I said the right things, but I was distracted. I scolded myself, but then it was time to turn and look to my left at Tyler.
“We’re introducing ourselves,” I said, “It’s your turn.”
“I’m Tyler, I work in construction over at the vineyard, sort of a jack-of-all-trades. I’d rather just sit in this time if you don’t mind.”
I nodded, “That’s fine. Thank you for joining us,” I said.
I had told myself he couldn’t be as attractive as I remembered, but he was. I was furious at myself for thinking that way about someone in my support group. I returned my attention to Cassie. I sat primly, disciplined in my professional demeanor, not letting it slip for a second. I barely looked at him at all, even when he spoke.
“What’s one thing you’d like to get out of attending this group?” I asked.
With that, we spent the rest of the meeting talking about objectives and then eating the cookies. I made notes of each client’s goals and would plan group activities to address those and also to build team closeness. I was back in my element after that aggravating loss of concentration.
At the end, after giving them my card and thanking them again, most of them left. All but one. Tyler Leeds. He went back to the urn and got himself another cup of coffee.
“Doesn’t that keep you awake?” I said.
“Nah, wish it did,” he said, drinking it and making a face. “Not the best coffee.”
5
Tyler
I had already choked down a cup of that crappy coffee before she came over to talk to me. She asked if it kept me awake. I wanted to tell her that she kept me awake. Her and her damn overalls and the sweet curve of her mouth.
“Thank you for coming in tonight. I hope you’ll come back next week,” she said.
She offered me her card.
“This your personal number?” I asked.
“No, of course not,” she said, sounding flustered, looking a little flushed.
She got a cup of coffee for herself, then dumped in a lot of flavored creamer and took a sip.
“Looks like you had a good turnout at your meeting. When did you get into trauma?”
“Personally or professionally?” she asked wryly, and then seemed to catch herself. “I did an internship in a women’s shelter when I was in college, and it was just when the research about adverse childhood experiences came out. So much of why we do what we do goes back to childhood, or to the worst thing that we went through. It just fascinates me. But I want to help people, it isn’t just morbid curiosity,” she said quickly.
“I didn’t say it was. It’s like the people that watch those true crime shows,” I said. “It’s trying to understand the human mind by looking at what can go wrong.”
“Yes,” she said, sounding relieved. “Are you a true crime fan?”
“Don’t have a TV,” I said, setting down my cup.
“So what do you do for fun if you don’t watch Netflix?” she said.
“I like to swim,” I said, although I hadn’t thought about it in years.
“That’s great. Where? I know they’ve got a pool up at the vineyard.”
“I haven’t been in it.”
“Oh,” she said, and I could tell she wanted to say more, but instead, she threw away her cup. “I appreciate you coming here tonight. It takes courage to admit that you need help.”
“I came because I knew it was you,” I said plainly.
“Because of me”? she said, that sweet blush creeping up her neck again.
“Yeah.”
I moved closer to her. The tension crackled loud as a twig splitting in a fire. Her chest rose and fell faster, her eyes darkening. I could feel the heat of her, scent her desire like we were in the wild. I would know her anywhere, I thought. The smell of her, the way her hair slipped out of her messy bun and trailed down her long neck. In a crowd, in the dark, anywhere. I stalked another step toward her, every sense alive and aware, drinking her in. Her cheeks reddened. She swayed a little toward me, just a few inches like she rocked forward on her toes, drawn by the same magnetism I felt.