Clear Eyes

Chapter 2

The air felt mournful. With the light pitter patter of rain, or the feeling of having to go to therapy again today. I could feel my mood fall, just like it always does on my appointment days.

When I came home on Monday after the Café, dad was thankfully asleep, and mom wasn't feeling well so she was in the bath. They didn't ask how it went. They didn't showcase any signs of concern.

I know there just worried about what happened 10 months ago, but I'm better. I still felt guilty, but wouldn't you too! It should have been me. I should be the one 6 feet under, not her.

"Jason, honey?" I looked up from my sad excuse of a breakfast, to see mom in her pencil skirt, white blouse, and pinned up bun. She looked so much like mom. "Your father and I are working late, so will you be okay for dinner today?"

"Yeah, I'll just grab some food on my way home."

"How is therapy going, anyway?" Idiot. I am a complete and utter idiot.

"Good" She eyed me skeptically, knowing that I was lying. "No, mom. I'm good. Therapy has really been helping."

She nods, probably not believing a word I just said. "Okay. Well, can you pick up some scones from Café 715 on your way home. I haven't had them in so long."

I remember the days. Dad would come home early from his job as a surgeon, and we'd go out as a family. I can't remember the last time we did that. It would have had to been before the fateful night. Before everything changed for the worse. Why couldn't we'd stay home that night. She'd still be here if we didn't.

"Jason?" I look up to see mom hasn't left yet.

"Yeah?" Mom eyes were back to concerned, and I hate it.

"Your tell us if you feel that way again, right?" Her eyes hold so much pain, and I'm the reason it's there. She just lost her, and I made it even worse.

"Of course, mom" I lean in giving her a kiss on the cheek, before grabbing the car keys off the wall, scurrying out of the room. I head to the cobblestone driveway, where my car sat patiently waiting for me to run away.

I had one year before I could run from this small state, that no one even know exists. I mean Maine is practically part of Canada, that's how high north it is. I'm surprised were still using American dollars versus British pounds. God save the queen.

The brick building came into view. I reiterated my name and appointment to the chirpy receptionist that's been working here ever since my first appointment. Her blonde hair, and bubbly smile is seriously not helping the mood.

I've been going to therapy sessions with Dr.Garcia for a little over 10 months. At first I downright refused and ended up sulking in solitude. My room engulfed me, when I barely registered my daily routine. Eating, school, and sleeping. Depression hit me hard, and here I was, barely recovering.

Ten months ago, I did something, something that I can never undo. My parents will never forget the day they received a call from Matt. If it weren't from him, I'd be joining her in heaven, or the afterlife. Wherever we go when we die.

"Jason Caudwell" The bubbly blonde, snapped my thoughts away from my thoughts. I needed to pull myself together, or else I'll be far too vulnerable for Dr.Garcia. He'll take advantage of my raw emotions, and turn them till all the gut wrenching memories come flowing out.

"Morning Jason" His olive skin complemented his features to a tea. With the black gelled hair and the pale blue collared shirt. Dr.Garcia's a man on the taller side, with Hispanic origin. I haven't learned much about him. Our sessions are usually about me, and man how I wish they weren't.

I took a seat on the worn down brown leather, opposite Dr.Garcia. "So" he began "Your mother told me the anniversary is coming up." I nodded, not really sure what this had anything to do with me. "Are you still thinking about.." he trailed off.

"No, I am not" I subconsciously tugged on the sleeve of my hoodie.

"Jason" he stresses. "It's okay to miss her. Have you been to her grave since the funeral a year ago?"

Mom's been trying to get me to visit her final resting place, but I can't bring myself to see her. If it weren't for me, we'd be currently on stage at Café 715 singing one of our original songs or a remix of a new one out.

She was always a musician at heart. We even performed in a band for some time during 10th grade. Matt was on bass, I on acoustic, her best friend Charlotte on drums, and of course her as our lead singer. We won battle of the bands that year. We could've had it all.

So yeah "No, I haven't been. I'm not ready, and I'm Not planning on going anytime soon. So please, let's move on."

"Hmm" the same sound he always makes before he notes down what I've said. Usually it's when I've got issues and I'm clearly showing them. "How's Matt? Are you two still friends?"

"What does he have to do with this?" Sure Matt's the guy who's helped me through my crap.

"He's your support." he paused shortly before continuing to ask "How's your sleeping?"

That was the last straw. I clenched and unclenched my fist, and physically took a breath. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table in between us, I stormed out of there faster than a cat hearing the sound of the can opener. Trust me those cute little felines come running.

I didn't care that there was still 45 minutes left of the one hour session, I was done. I couldn't take therapy any longer.

I didn't want to be alone in my two story house, so I drove out to the one place not many knew about. A place on true tranquility.

We discovered the meadow and pond a little over 10 years ago with dad. Back when he was a caring father, we'd go on adventures through the wilderness, and we used to camp out here. The grassy plain was just far enough from the town, that it was quiet and secluded area perfect for stargazing.

The largest willow, where I fell out of when I was 9, breaking my wrist in the process, was also the spot I discovered my love for archery.

Do you know those foam tip arrows that have the Velcro that attach to the target? Yeah, those were the ones I learned on. Ever since that first day I picked up a bow, I knew it was my sport. While she took up dancing, really fit the arts theme don't you think.

My bow and arrows were in the trunk of my car just waiting to be taken to the range again. I found it hard to find time to focus on anything other than wallowing in my own guilt. Maybe this could become my release. God knows I need one.

I must have been sitting at the base of the willow tree for a good two hours. Just mindlessly bobbing my head along to a new band I came across. I was so close to dozing off that when someone tapped my shoulder, you better darn know that I was gonna freak out.

So I did most manliest thing I knew, scream like a girl. Yeah, we all have our inner girly scream, and mine came out when I was full on having a heart attack out of freight.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you" I recognized the Italian instantly. I didn't even need to look up to know that if was Alex.

"Alex? What are you doing here?" I asked, sort of annoyed.

"Umm... it's a quiet place. Thought I'd come think a bit." Maybe it wasn't just me with a solemn mood because of the rain this morning. She had a sad smile on her face, with her brown hair tied up in a messy bun atop her head.

"Everything alright?" I may be depressed, but I knew how to treat a girl.

My question must have caught her off guard, seeing as her eyes widened just a fraction of an inch. "Y-yeah. I should get going" she stuttered. Her skinny retreating figure ended up at her white Toyota Camry, parked just a few feet away from my Mazda.

When she left that summer before high school, she had lighter hair, and was definitely a little more built. She wasn't the skinniest, nor the fattest. She was just her, but now her figure was stick thin, with a pale like complexion. Maybe it's just the Italian air, but for some reason she seemed to intrigue me a hell of a lot more than the first time we met her back in 6th grade.