Bent not Broken (336 page)

One of the first rules I’d learned in counseling was in order to get people to talk, fill the room with silence. Silence is awkward. At some point, to make things less awkward the client will speak. So, in this case, stubbornness was a virtue.

I patiently waited for Chris to speak. I could hear the ticking of the clock above my head, but I didn’t let it distract me. I was going to get him to talk today.

****

CHRIS

“My dad’s in prison,” I blurted. Damn.
Why the fuck did I just do that?
Now she was gonna ask me all kinds of questions about it when I really didn’t want to talk about it at all.

She looked at me sitting there, contemplating her next move. And then, as if she heard my silent plea she said, “I’m sure it’s hard for you to talk about it, so I’m not going to force you by asking you all kinds of questions you don’t wanna answer. So when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I’m here to listen if you need to talk about it.”

I couldn’t move or speak.
I really think this woman gets me.
I sat there, staring at her and trying to figure her out. She was so different than the last counselor who sat behind his desk, barely making eye contact with me while he made his judgments and told me, in his own words, what a fuck-up I was. But Mrs. Honeycutt…it’s like that woman heard my fucking thoughts. She didn’t glare at me over her glasses behind her desk. She sat right there across from me, leaning in, genuinely interested in what I had to say.

“My brother’s name is Mitch,” I said, surprising myself.

She nodded. “So your ten year old brother, Mitch, is a pest?”

I chuckled, relaxing a little. “Yeah, the day before I came here, he wanted me to play basketball with him in the driveway, but I was too busy doing my own thing. And then—I swear he did it on purpose—his basketball bounced back to the front porch where I was sitting and knocked over my soda, so I yelled at him.” I suddenly realized there was a hint of sadness in my voice.
I feel really bad about yelling at him now.

“You feel guilty about that, don’t you?” she asked, nodding.

I sat there for a second.
Did I just open my big mouth and let this woman inside my head? Fuck.
“A little.”
A lot.

She leaned on her elbow on the armrest of her chair. “Do you regret it and wish you could call him up and apologize?”

I looked toward the door, suddenly feeling the urge to bolt. “Kinda,” I shrugged.
Kinda a lot.

She nodded thoughtfully. “Is there anyone else you’ve hurt in the past that you wish you could apologize to?”

I thought back to the night before my dad got hauled off to prison. I didn’t realize it then, but he was under a lot of pressure. He owed a lot of money to a lot of people, and one wrong deal could get him killed. I was sitting in my bedroom when he burst through the door. He yelled at me over something stupid—chores probably. I didn’t even remember what it was about now, but I screamed back at him. He got in my face, pointing a finger in my chest, backing me into a corner. And like the moody preteen that I was, I told him I hated him for the first time ever.

I would never forget that look of disappointment on his face. He backed away and left my bedroom without another word. We didn’t speak for the rest of the night or the whole next morning. I was still reeling the next day when I left for school, and when I came home, he was gone. The cops had come and arrested him around lunchtime.

Knowing she’d been waiting patiently for my response, I couldn’t look her in the eye when I said, “Nope.”

She eyed me suspiciously. She knew I was lying, but she didn’t push me for answers and ignored my glassy eyes. She just nodded and said, “Well, we all make mistakes. We just have to learn from them and move forward, not beat ourselves up for something we can’t take back.”

How the hell did she know I was beating myself up for something I couldn’t take back?

But the gleam in her eye told me she understood, and that was all that mattered. I managed a crooked smile, and she glanced at the clock. A flash of disappointment crossed her face, realizing how close she had come to getting me to crack. “Our time is up,” she said sorrowfully. With as many kids as were in cell Block-A, we only got to spend about ten minutes at a time with her.

I stood to my feet. “See you next time,” I said with a hint of enthusiasm that I tried to stuff down.

She grinned. She knew she was getting to me.
Dammit.

“See you soon, Chris.” A little wave from her sent me out of her office to the awaiting guard who escorted me back to my cell.

I crashed on the bunk.
What the fuck just happened?

****

A couple of days had passed since my last meeting with Mrs. Honeycutt. I’d spent that time adding reinforcements to the bricks that she’d chiseled on the wall around my heart. She wasn’t going to get to me this time. I wasn’t here to make friends. I was here to do my time and get the hell out. There was no sense in dredging up feelings to some woman who couldn’t change a damn thing about them anyway.

I sat down on her sofa, boring holes through the floor.

“Good morning,” she cooed, her voice sweet and spritely.

“Hmph,” I grunted. I didn’t even want to use English today because she’d already proven that once I opened my big mouth she could see every fucking thing about me.

“I hope you’re having a good day so far,” she said, jotting something down in her notebook.

“Hmph,” I repeated, refusing to look her in the eye.

She could try all she wanted, but she wasn’t getting me to talk.

“So, I looked at your file.” She glanced up at me, out of the corner of her eye.

Did she just fucking smirk at me?

So, she’s read my file? That means she’s seen all the stupid shit I’ve done.
Yay.

She sat there, poised to write all about it in that damn notebook of hers. So, what? I’d burned down some abandoned barn? So I’d stole some old lady’s Buick? So I kicked the shit out of Trevor-
douchebag
-Kent? He needed someone to put a bullet between his eyes for what he did to Kaitlyn. No, I did the world a favor.

I watched her. Her soft hazel eyes. Her long, silky brown hair. Her lips that curled ever so slightly into an innocent smile. I didn’t want to believe it, or think it, but something about her seemed safe…trustworthy.

Just then, she glanced up at me.

****

SALEM

When I glanced back up, Chris’s eyes were on me. His dark eyes pierced mine. The pain and turmoil behind those eyes was startling. We looked at each other for another moment before Chris finally broke the silence.

****

CHRIS

“I’m not who you think I am,” I said without thinking.
Dammit!
Those innocent eyes beckoned me to speak, and I’d completely lost my resolve.

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.