Catharsis

TWELVE

The front door swings open with a high-pitched creak and I walk upstairs without breaking stride. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sammy uncross her legs and throw down her book. She practically jumps off the couch.

"What's wrong?" She calls and tromps up the wooden stairs after me in her moccasins.

"I'm leaving."

"Leaving? Where?"

I dig my duffel bag out from our closet and throw it on the made-up bed. Clothes pile up half in and half out as I try to stuff more on top.

"Can't you just talk to me?" she asks and leans against the door frame.

"I fell out with Jonah." I put a few pairs of boxer briefs in the side pocket.

"So? You guys have argued before, you can always fix things with him."

"Not like this."

"Why is this any different? What did you guys argue about?" She scratches under the nosepiece of her reading glasses like this is no big deal. She's wearing one of my shirts and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Jesus, I don't want to do this to her.

"Well, for one: I punched him, and I shouldn't have."

Her jaw goes slack. "What the heck, Aaron? You punched him?"

"Yeah," I say. "And I shouldn't have."

"Well, did you hurt him or is he okay?" She looks more worried about him than me at this point.

"He's fine, but I'm not."

"Well," Sammy scoffs bitterly. "I already know that you're not alright. You haven't been alright for weeks."

"Of course you already know, you know everything."

"It doesn't take half a brain to see that! And now you're going to throw it all away - everything we have - just because of this one thing with Jonah? You're going to throw me away because of an argument with him. Is that what this is about? This is about an argument with him." She's becoming more frantic by the second.

For a moment, I sit down on the bed. It seems to me like she and Jonah have already agreed that I'm emotionally unstable. She must know by now that this goes well beyond one thing with him. I chew on my bottom lip. "Did you really call him yesterday?"

Sammy looks taken aback. "I - " she starts defensively then takes a deep breath and continues. "I've been afraid because you have been pushing us away and you won't tell either of us why. Can't we be concerned for you? After your dad died then the seizure and the break-in; aren't we allowed to be worried?"

All of this is just a reminder that dealing with this sickness is something I have to deal with on my own. "I have to go, I have to leave now," I say and jump up off the bed. Digging through the top shelf of our closet, I come across a small blanket and shove it into the remaining space in the duffel bag. Aren't they allowed to be worried, she asks? Pfft.

"And no, it's not okay for you to be concerned because no amount of begging and pleading is going to draw an answer out of me. I don't want your sympathy either."

"Aaron, please! You're my whole world, you've been my world for four years now. You can't just leave this all behind like it's nothing. Is this nothing to you? Is what we have nothing? Am I nothing?"

"Stop!" I bark back at her then pause before I say something stupid. "You mean the world to me and that's why I'm doing this. I hope I will be back, I really do."

"Baby." Her hands plant firmly on my shoulders. "If you really care for me you would stay! You would stay and we would work through this together. We could talk this through, we could get you help. I would do whatever it takes." Her eyes are doing that thing again: peering right into my soul and I'm glad she isn't really a lie detector. She studies my eyes for a few seconds and I study hers. They're full of questions and a sense of unfairness. "We can fix it," she whispers.