The Darkest Part (Living Heartwood 1)

I claim my usual spot, the fluffy blue chair that swallows me as soon as I sit down.

Dr. Hartman is changing it up today, sporting a red dress suit and black heels. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders in loose waves instead of the tightly cinched bun she usually wears. I raise my eyebrows, and she laughs.

“I have a date after my five o’clock.”

Go her. “That’s nice.”

Her light mood doesn’t last, and soon she whips out her all business persona. “So, Sam, you started your medications yesterday?”

“I did.”

“It’s too early to tell, I’m sure, but has there been any change?”

Flipping through my mental notes of side effects from my medication pamphlets and the websites I Googled, I say, “I’ve been more tired.” Not tired. More tired. I’m always tired. “A bit antsy. And I haven’t seen Tyler since noon.” Which is the truth. But it’s not due to the meds (obviously they’ve disintegrated and are now floating around the sewer system), but I don’t think she wants to hear my latest theory about how Tyler’s energy is fading and a black hole is trying to steal him from me.

Our first ten minutes are the usual: diet, exercise, family, outings. Then she comes out of left field. “I want you to make a list of things you’d like to accomplish.”

Seems like a simple enough request. I shrug. “Okay. I can have one for you the next time I come in.” In about two and half weeks.

She smiles. “This probably won’t be as easy as you think, Sam. I want a list of things you’d like to experience, goals you want to achieve, that has nothing to do with your life with Tyler.”

I feel my brow furrow. Anger bites my chest.

“You’ve been stunted emotionally,” she continues, “in more ways than one. Being engaged at such a young age, especially during college, when most are experimenting has inhibited your emotional growth.”

“I think I’m pretty mature for my age,” I say, my irritation rising at her condescending tone.

“Oh, you are. I couldn’t agree more. But since Tyler’s death, all progress has shut down. Tyler was such a vital part of who you were . . . are, that losing him has been like losing a huge part of you.”

It’s like she opened up my brain during our last session and jotted down notes for this one. I can feel my heart-rate speeding, shoulders tensing. “I think that’s an obvious observation.”

“Indeed.” She nods. “You’ve been with Tyler your entire life. You’ve always identified yourself with him. But now, you need to discover who Sam is away from Tyler. College is all about self-discovery. I’d like you to take full advantage of it. Get you back on a course to finding out who you are, what interests you have, and thinking about your future. Experiment and discover your independence.”

“You want me to go back to college so that I can have sexual escapades and experiment with drinking and drugs.” I sit forward, cock my head. “Okay. First on my list, kiss a girl.”

“Funny, Sam.” Her frown line deepens between her eyes. “It’s not for me. Stop thinking that doing anything in this treatment is for me. You have to be willing to take the steps for you. I’m just offering suggestions to help along the way.”

My mouth opens, ready to unleash, ready to tell her that I already know exactl

y who I am and what my future will be. But I stop. Something in my mind clicks, like puzzle pieces fitting together.

Dr. Hartman doesn’t know it yet, but she’s just given me the perfect out.

“I think you’re right.” I smile, and it’s not fake. “Finding my independence is just what I need to do right now.”

My eyelids slip closed, heavy with sleep, and I snap them open. The Clockwork Orange poster pinned to my wall blurs as I fight to stay awake.

All the books have one thing in common, claiming spirits mostly appear at night. I haven’t prayed in a long time, but I find myself whispering in the dark, asking whoever might be hanging out in the clouds to give Tyler the strength to fight the darkness.

I was so angry earlier today when I went to meet his father. I sent Tyler away with harsh words and evil glares. It’s been so hard, seeing him and having my world shift, but he’s had it much worse. I should’ve listened to him. Should’ve stayed with him.

I whisper “I love you” to the gloom, and before my eyes shut a final time, I feel his presence. Warmth spreads through my body as a dim white light begins to glow beside me. I hold my breath, watching as Tyler’s features come into focus.

My breath whooshes out in relief. “I was afraid you were gone,” I say, feeling a hot tear roll down my cheek. My pillow catches it, and the next one.

I open my hand between us, my palm turned up, and Tyler rests his translucent hand over mine.

“I’m still here. I won’t leave until you’re ready.”