-1Step 2: Anger
I've been seeing Henry for a couple of weeks now. Two long weeks of talking, which let's be honest, I don't like doing. I mean, that's what me and Marissa had problems with, and here I am, talking to some old guy. Not exactly what you want to do when the love of your life dies. When you would rather be at home, mourning them, wishing they were with you. When you'd rather be looking at old pictures and imagining what could've and should've been. Instead, I'm here, staring at an old guy searching through my file. I have nothing against Henry, he's just a therapist. And I hate therapists. I hate therapy.
Because without therapy, there never would have been Oliver. And without Oliver, there never would have been Theresa. And without Theresa, there would have never been a baby, or a long summer in Chino, wishing I was back in Newport. And there never would have been a DJ, Lindsay, or Alex. And there never would have been breaking up, and that would solve a lot of our problems. But there would still be Trey….
Gosh, for my brother, he sure is an idiot. Then again, all Atwoods are idiots, aren't we? I mean, my dad gets arrested, I get arrested, Trey gets arrested, my mom kicks me out, and the list goes on and on. Anyways, back to the point, Trey is an idiot. He can be blamed for Marissa's death. Volchok is another possibility. He did ram us off the road.
But I didn't stop.
Doesn't that make me a part of the blame. I should have stopped, I should have gotten help. I should have done something, anything. But no, I sat there, and watched her die, in my arms. I'm not a part of the blame, I am the blame. Because if I hadn't ever come to Newport, neither would Trey. And if Trey didn't come, and didn't try to rape her, and she hadn't shot him, she never would have met Johnny, or Volchok.
And this realization makes me angry, and said, and hurt. Because I know that I'm a reason she isn't here, I know. I find myself clenching my fists, and trying not to scream or hit something in anger. Henry looks at me, and smiles. And it takes everything in me not to hit him right now.
"Ryan, you've really made some progress these past couple of weeks." He pauses and looks down at his notes and adds on, "Now that you have Denial out of the picture, you only have four stages left to go. Do you remember what we talked about the other day, about the five stages?"
"Yeah." I try not to laugh at him. Five stages, please. Like I'd really grieve in five stages. Like my emotions could really add up that easily. It wasn't likely, not possible. No, there was no such thing as Five Stages of Grief. There couldn't be.
"So, onto another subject." He looks at me, his smile gone. "How are the Cohens doing?" He asks me. I don't say anything for a while, just stare at his accusing eyes. There's no way that he could know….
Flashback
I stare at the bags in front of me, not bearing any emotion. I won't show them my true feelings, because they wouldn't like them. They wouldn't like to know that I've been planning this since she died, since I came home that night. They wouldn't like to know that I've been saving up money for months now, and that I can't wait to leave.
No, that wouldn't go over well.
So instead I pretend to not feel anything. I try to be numb, which is pretty easy actually. Because I am kind of numb. Because at the moment, other than anxiety to move, I don't feel anything. I don't feel sad, or hurt. I don't feel happy, and I don't feel depressed, like people think I am. Because in truth, I haven't felt much since learning that Marissa is actually dead.
Not a lot anyways. Yeah, I get the reality check every couple of hours, and I remember that I'll never see those eyes looking at me again. Never see the smile that had me fall for her when I first saw her at the edge of the driveway. That I'll never again hear her voice, calling me, asking for help. And I get a small wave of hurt run through my heart, making it hard to go on. Harder to live without her.
But then, I busy myself with something. I run, I work, I try to find an apartment. Because I can't deal with it. It's not denial, I'm over that. I know she's gone, I know that this isn't a dream. I'm not denying that, I'm just trying not to feel the sadness and the tears that come to my eyes, making it hard to see.
So here I am, ready to leave the life that I know behind. I'm moving into my own, small apartment. Very small. But I can't stand being in the pool house, can't stand staring at her picture all day. I need to get on with my life, I need to get out of the Cohen house. So I'm leaving the pool house, her pictures, and everything behind.
Today is the start of the new life I've been longing for since May 18th, exactly two months ago.
End of Flashback
"Uhh.." The truth is, I don't know. I moved out last week, the day after therapy. That way, he wouldn't know. But I think he may have found out. "They're great." That's a lie. But in the last week, do I really care if I'm lying, no.
"Really? Sandy called this morning and said that he hasn't seen you since last week"
Busted!
"Yeah, so?" Why should Henry care, he just gets paid to do this job. He really doesn't care about me. No one does, only Marissa and she's gone.
"Ryan, the Cohens love you. They just want to help you." I really hate it when he buts into my life. I hate it when people think they're helping, but they're just making everything worse. Like Marissa, trying to help everyone. Like me, trying to help everyone. Like Henry, trying to convince me of a truth I already know. One that makes me wish I could go back to the pool house, and that everything will be okay.
"I'm sure they do. I just don't think they can help me this time." They really can't. They can't bring Marissa back. That's all I need. They can't provide it for me though, no one can. And that makes me upset.
"What can't they help you with? Is it Marissa? Do you think they can't help you with Marissa?" I hate it when he reads my mind.
"Look, there's a lot of things that I'm dealing with right now. I just don't think that the Cohens can help me through that okay." I wish he would really just leave me alone, stop trying to help…..
"Ryan, you can never get over this if you don't talk about it."
"I don't need to talk about it!" I say, a little louder than I meant to.
"Marissa isn't coming back, you know that, I know that, everyone knows that. You need to deal without her here with you. It may be hard, but you can do it." He smiles at me and says, " I know you can."
I just sit there, staring at him. How dare he talk about Marissa like that. How dare he say I need to deal with it. I know I do, I just don't want to. I don't have to. So now, we just stare at each other. I try not to hit him.
"You didn't know her. You didn't know anything about her. So don't you dare talk about her, understand? Don't you dare try to help, and say I need to get over it. I don't need to get over it, I am over it!" I get up and walk towards the door. He gives me a questioning look when I turn around. "Therapy's over for today, see ya." I walk out with every intention never to come back.
I drive to a bar. I know, not smart, but hey, I had a hard day. I've actually had a hard summer. So I deserve a drink or two. I won't get too much. I'm sure of that. Because drinking won't solve my problems, just like they didn't solve my mom's, or Marissa's either.
I order a seven and seven. The guy doesn't even ask for an ID. That's alright with me though, because I really need a drink, and I really don't want to leave. I receive my drink and start taking small sips. I can't help but wonder if this is how my life's going to be from now on. Alone, sitting at a bar, drinking away my pain. Well, drinking only a little until I'm alright again. That's not like Marissa, right?
Some guys start talking. You can tell they're drunk. "Did you see that guy last night, he was all messed up!" This triggers my attention. Maybe if there's a fight, I can get in. It'll help me some. I could blow off some steam, and maybe make some money along the way.
"I can't wait for that fight tonight. I hear anyone can enter. Why don't you give it a shot Don?" And I'm excited all of a sudden. A fight, anyone can come….
"I can't make it tonight, I gotta work."
I walk toward these guys. If there's a fight, I want in. "Um, excuse me. What fight?" I ask. I need to know, need to fight.
The guys stare at me for a long time. They must be trying to register what I just said. One guy suddenly says, "They're across the street. Why do you want to know?"
"I was thinking of fighting. Do you think they'd let me?" I really hoped they would. But based on what they told me earlier, I already knew they would.
"They'll let anyone. Be careful though kid, the competition is really tough. Good luck."
I thanked them and headed across the street. I could already feel myself getting better.
- That Night -
I'm in the caged in area now. The fight's about to begin. The crowd's cheering, and the guy in front of me stares me down. I see hate in his eyes, hate for someone. And I know that mine are a mirror image. Suddenly, they yell fight. The crowd's cheering, waiting for the first move. I clench my fists and walk toward my opponent.
He's about my height. He is bald and has tattoos all over his arms. He has big arms, probably from all the fights he's already been in. There's a scar over his left eye, and I begin to wonder if this is the right decision. Maybe I shouldn't be here.
He hits me first. That sets me off. I hit him in the jaw. He hits me in the chest. That really hurt. I start punching him again and again. The crowd's cheers are just encouraging me to hit him harder. So I do, with all the strength in me, I hit him harder.
He hits me in the eye. I fall to the ground. He tries to kick me but I won't let him. "Kill him!" I hear someone in the crowd yell. "Kill him, let him suffer!" I get back up and hit him harder. My anger is making me become like a beast in the ring. I can't stop hitting him.
I hit him once for Trey. For the idiot of my brother I have. If it hadn't been for him, Marissa never would have gotten expelled. I hit him for Johnny, the true reason why we broke up. The stupid surfer that fell for MY girlfriend. I hit him for Volchok, that monster that killed the only girl I ever loved. I hit him for Henry for talking about her so much.
Last but not least I hit him for the pain that I've been feeling. That pain in my heart that makes me angry all the time because I don't know what to do with it. The pain that makes it hard to breathe, hard to live. That pain that no matter what I do, just won't go away.