What's Enough?

Chapter 123

He opens his arms wide, "Jay," he says and then hugs me tightly. I embrace him also; he's probably the only person I will allow to hug me like this.

I hate being touched, hugged, pretty much anything involving contact and affection. My lack of wanting affection, I'm for sure positive, came from the lack of affection I was shown as a child.

Even though hugs are not my thing, my grandfather gets a pass. As I continue to clutch him, a whiff of chocolate and flowers enter my nose. This isn't a surprise smell to me; for as long as I can remember, he has smelled like chocolate and flowers. If that's even possible. After he lets go, he looks me up and down, "You got big,"

I look at his expanding stomach, then back to him, "So did you," I joke.

We both burst into laughter.

My grandfather's forthright humor is no surprise to me. His sense of humor is telling people exactly how it is, and that's what I love most about him; he holds nothing back, for no one. If it wasn't for me caring so damn much about how others' feelings, I possibly could speak my mind more like him and not think twice about it.

My mother and father come from the dining room to the hallway. My mom smiles when she sees who it is, and my father's eyes go wide in shock.

"There's my favorite daughter in law," he walks past me and hugs my mother.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" she asks with a huge smile,

He releases her "Visiting,"

"You could've called?" my dad says, ruining the joyful moment.

My grandfather smile quickly fades; he looks at my father and huffs, "And there goes my least favorite foolish son,"

And so it begins. My father and his dad have a weird relationship; it's sort of like a love-hate thing. I guess you could say my dad and my relationship is similar to him and his father.

"Nice to see you too, dad," he says insincerely.

"Wish I could say the same," he shoots back, challenging him.

My mother and I laugh but then stop when my father shoots us a glare, "Are you staying?" my father asks him aggressively.

He tilts his head to the side, "No, I just brought two suitcases to the door because I felt like straining my old bones,"

My father huffs in annoyance and then walks to the door to collect his luggage.

His dad follows behind him, bantering, "Ivy league degree but still as dumb as a bag of rocks. What the hell did Yale teach you? No attentiveness skills, that's for sure!" he burst into laughter at his joke.

I walk over to my mother and ask, "You think he's staying all the way up until Christmas?"

She shakes her head, "For your father's sake, let's hope not,"

...

Okay, diary, so I got up early in the morning because my time management skills are stellar. Sike, I wish. The smell of bacon is what woke me up out of my sleep.

I don't know if it is because my grandfather is here or what, but I have been in an excellent mood all week. This is honestly the best I have ever felt in years.

I told Rachel about my exemplary mood Wednesday at our session. She was happy for me; she said I have been making excellent progress.

After the shooting, she was so scared that I would start back cutting because of all the guilt, so she decided to do weekly body checks. Every Friday, she checks my wrist, arms, stomach, and legs. We have a calendar on the wall; I honestly marked down the last time I had cut, which was almost four weeks before the shooting, so since then until now, I haven't cut.