Jason

Does That Make Me Crazy?

Meghan

This is not the first time I've been here, and I'm definitely sure that it will not be the last. After our Florida trip and my unexpected engagement, I decided to go back to see Gareth Brewerton, a counsellor who helped me come to terms with my attack last year. I was so certain that it was over, that Ricky was a long distant memory, but on the night of mine and Jason's engagement he showed up in the most chilling and impossible way. I'm sat in Gareth's office waiting for him to start our appointment as he is on a call. It's the same as I remember it before, very generic, but the thing that always strikes me whenever I walk in here is the pictures of his family on the wall. They look so happy with their big grins at what I'm assuming was a Thanksgiving meal. It's almost like he intentionally plasters these pictures everywhere to show his clients that happiness exists, and at the end of any dark tunnel there will be light. My palms are sweating, I feel sick and terrified. After this session, I will probably find myself sectioned or on an extreme higher dose of medication. "Right, Miss Weller. Thank you for coming in today. How can I help you?" Gareth says as he glides back into the office and tosses his navy cardigan on the couch. He comes across like a fatherly type, which is the exact thing I need right now. My own father passed away three years ago and I miss him indescribably. If he was here right now, he would know what to do and how to help me through this. Swallowing hard and trying to keep the tears at bay, I dig what's left of my nails into my palm and begin. "I got engaged last month," I say meekly. Gareth's face instantly brightens up, and he knocks the table with his knuckles like I've just announced that the New York Knicks have scored and won the game. "That's amazing news! Congratulations, Meghan!" I'm struggling to find a response to his positivity, I feel anything but positive at the moment. "Who is the lucky guy?" He asks as he jots something down in his diary. "Jason Roberts, he used to be a friend of mine and we reconnected five months ago," I say nostalgically. The one good thing to come out of this year so far is my relationship with him, I don't know where I would be without him by my side. He is the reason I'm sat here today, he encouraged me to seek help, I know he is deeply worried about me, especially after my outburst at the end of our Disney trip....

"Meghan, that's really positive. It sounds like things are really looking up, and I want to be transparent with you. So in the nicest possible way, what on earth are you doing here?" He says, throwing his hands up in the air. Unable to hold my emotions in any longer, I sob uncontrollably. My whole life is a mess and in tatters due to my stupidity because of one fateful night that has set off these chain of events. Gareth slides over a box of tissues and I gratefully grab a few. "It's ok to cry sometimes. Whatever you say here to me today, I will try to do my utmost best to help," he says empathetically. "I don't think you'll be able to. No one can help me now," I say wiping away my dribbled mascara. "Try me," he says, pouring us both a glass of San Pellegrino. I glance out of the window to look at the busy streets of New York City, wishing and longing to be like one of those normal people out there. I turn back to face Gareth whose now sat at the table with his arms folded, he almost looks impatient and agitated. It doesn't matter how embarrassed and pathetic I feel, I have to be truthful. "I'm being stalked," I quiver in my seat as I say those three dreaded words. Gareth runs his fingers through his goatee and frowns, "Haven't you reported him to the police?" I shake my head, "No, I can't," more tears flow and I bury my face in my hands. "It seems to me like you have two choices, you can either be miserable for the rest of your life and carry on looking over your shoulder. Or you can bite the bullet, tell the cops, and let them handle him. Seriously, what have you got to lose?" He says shaking his head and I can tell that he's losing patience with me. "He can't be reported to the police," I start to say, my teeth chattering. "The reason I can't report him is because.." before I can finish my sentence, Gareth's phone rings. Promptly picking it up, he says, "Hold that thought," as he makes a quick exit through the side door. I take my phone out of my bag. There are two WhatsApp messages from Jason, asking me how I am and to call him as soon as I leave this session to fill him in on how it went. He is at work, I know that, but I desperately need to talk to him. I wait for him to answer, after three rings I hear his familiar deep voice. "Meghan, baby, that was quick. How'd it go?" He asks, genuinely concerned. As much as I love him and adore his attentiveness towards me I need him to give me a straight answer. "The session is still ongoing. Jason, I need to ask you this," I stutter waiting for his response. He sighs on the other end of the line, I'm sure he knows what is coming. "Go ahead," he eventually replies. It's now or never, "What exactly happened that night when you went to confront Ricky?"