Burden of Happiness by Luciddream

Chapter 9

The arc from my welding torch is cut and I step back to check my work. It's nice to be working on the ground for a change. I've been at this particular job for three weeks and now I'm getting spoiled. No scampering down metal structures when I have to pee or have lunch. Today I'm especially grateful not to have the distraction of working thirty feet up in the air. I take off my heavy work glove and pull out my cellphone, reading the text for at least the thirteenth time since getting it this morning. "Hi Sarah. I'm taking you up on that offer to call. I'll be home after 4 p.m. if you have time to talk. Kate."

I texted her back telling her I'd be home after 5 p.m. and I would call her then. I scroll down and read her reply, it is a smiley face followed by a 'K'
I smile and pull my mask back down, hoping the hours will go by quickly.

I park my bike in the little spot reserved for motorcycles and cut the engine. I'm still getting used to riding it, but already I know it is a purchase I will never regret. Part of the changes I've been implementing slowly is beginning to treat myself a bit. It is something I've never done, as I'd just been concerned with surviving the next day.

I've also started volunteering for some local building renovation projects. I've even joined a book club. I grin to myself thinking how silly it is that I am so excited to tell Kate all of this. Truth is, the impetus for me getting out of my apartment more had as much to do with keeping busy as it did with me starting to make changes in my life.

For every day of the last three weeks, I've wanted to call Kate, but something kept telling me not to. I knew school had started for her already and I figured she'd be really busy, but still I'd hoped. I'd even thought about asking Elise about her, but I every time I'm about to, something stops me. That didn't keep Elise from reporting that Kate looked very good in a pencil skirt the first day of school, however.

I check my mailbox and then climb up the three flights of stairs with Mrs. Nelson's two bags of groceries I insist on helping her with every Wednesday. I set them in front of her door, knowing she's right behind me in the elevator. I then let myself into my apartment and set down my gear.
I check my watch and it is a few minutes after five o'clock. Still, I putter around my apartment, putting dishes away, working up the nerve to return Kate's call. I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. Suddenly, my phone rings and I check caller ID. I smile.

"Hey. Couldn't wait for me to call back, huh?" I start off teasingly. Her soft chuckle immediately sets me at ease and I flop down on my couch near the window where I get the best reception.

"Well, I'm an hour into grading the first round of essays and I needed a break already." She says around a sigh.

"That bad, huh?" I ask. I hear a pen tapping in the background and can just picture her in her pajamas already, probably with a cup of tea. I remember her telling me about her essay grading ritual.

"Let's just say, I really would like to see what the heck they are learning in high school English because it sure isn't capitalization rules... or grammar... or spelling..." She drifts off in a cute little huff.

"Have you gotten to Elise's yet?" I ask, almost afraid to hear.

"One of the few bright spots in the pile so far." She answers as if she'd expected it to be the case. I smile, inordinately proud.

"Good to hear. She gets her command of the written language from me." I state cheekily. I hear her giggle softly. "So, what flavor of tea are you drinking?" I ask, trying to impress her with my memory.

"I happen to be drinking camomile." She says with no hint of surprise. There's a brief pause and I get up from the couch to fix myself something to drink. This talk of tea has made me thirsty.

"So, speaking of your niece, she tells me you bought a motorcycle." She says casually. I smile in surprise, knowing that she must have asked about me. I'm also amused that Elise picked this particular thing to share with her.

"I did." I say simply, waiting to see what else she has to say about it.

"Those things are dangerous. You don't wear one of those dumb Nazi looking helmets do you?" She asks, sounding like every mother in the world. I almost call her Mom, but catch myself. The word will never have a normal meaning for me.

"I'll have you know, I drive very safe and I wear a full helmet with a visor and everything." I answer prudently.

"It's not your skill I worry about, it's all the others on the road." She says and I smile at her words. I decide against teasing her about worrying about me and take it for what it is.

"If it helps to know, I bought one with a barely legal muffler so a deaf person can hear me coming and I don't cut between cars. Those guys are assholes." I offer, touched that she worries, but wanting to allay that worry just as well.

"How is school going, outside of the atrociously written essays?" I ask, as much for a change in topic as honest curiosity.

"Well, outside of the essays, really well. Thankfully, the students are pretty verbally inclined and they ask some pretty thoughtful questions. It also seems they are doing the reading, and that is always a good thing. Discussions in class are much more interesting when they know what they are talking about." She says. I get an image of her leaning against her desk in front of the students, in a pencil skirt and a tasteful but low cut v-neck sweater, engaged in a spirited conversation about the Boston Tea Party or the merits of representative democracy.

"I'd love to come in and sit in on one of your classes." I say suddenly, the warmth of my imagery invading my verbal response. I can feel the blush creep up my cheeks because I know I didn't censor it from my tone.

"Have a teacher fetish, do you?" She purrs. I take a big gulp of my recently poured glass of milk. "Cat got your tongue?" She continues when I don't respond right away.

An extremely lewd response is on the tip of my tongue, but I refrain. "Sorry, just having a drink to cool me down from my image of you in a pencil skirt." I answer honestly.

"Pencil skirt, huh? I believe I have a few of those." She says coyly.

As much as I'm enjoying the flirting, I wonder at the true nature of her call. I can't help but assume she really did have something on her mind. I chuckle, but then remain quiet, waiting for her to steer the conversation.

"Thanks for that." She says sincerely.

"For what?" I prod.

"For cheering me up. I've missed talking to you." She says simply and I find myself smiling at her words yet again.

"I'm glad I cheered you up. To be honest, I wasn't sure I'd hear from you again." I confess. It hurts to admit it, but I need to say it.

"Yeah, I figured you'd think that. Once I got back from the conference, school started and one day blended into the next. Now that things have settled down, I wanted to call and see how you were doing."

"Well, I'm doing pretty well. I found a job that actually has me on the ground, which is nice." I say. I hear the tinkling of her spoon as she stirs her tea. "I joined a book club." I add.

"Oh yeah? What are you guys reading?" She asks enthusiastically. It pleases me beyond measure and I find myself grinning like an idiot in my empty apartment.

"It's this book called Blink and it's about how we make snap decisions and conclusions in our everyday lives. Pretty interesting read really." I say.

"Yeah, I've read that book, it is kind of fascinating how our brains work in regards to first impressions." She responds thoughtfully. "What was your impression of me when you saw me in the bar that day? What was your two-second conclusion?" She asks in a light tone.

I tap my chin dramatically and then realize she can't see me. "Hmmm..." I start, thinking I'd say something about how I thought she was hot, but then I do recall exactly what I thought of her at first... "I remember thinking you must be a very caring person to come get your dad to take him home in the middle of the day."

"Caring, huh? Not 'enabler' or 'pathetic'?" She probes. The response surprises me. Is that how she sees herself in regards to her father?

"Neither crossed my mind. The way you knelt down to talk to him... I saw how much you were concerned for him. You didn't get mad or frustrated." I say, thinking back to how I used to react to my mother when she was drunk.

"He'd always been a drinker, but when my mom left... She never looked back and since that day, he's rarely been without a drink. He was so in love with her, when she left, he pretty much just gave up on life. Twelve years later and he still feels he has nothing to be sober for."

"Wow." Is all I can say.

"Yeah. I've struggled with the guilt of being away at school when it all happened. Sometimes I think, if only I'd come home, he wouldn't have done this." She says sadly.

"Do you still feel this way, Kate?" I wait for her response, figuring that it will make a few things pretty clear.

"I know it's silly, but yeah, I do. My brain tells me I couldn't have stopped him from drinking, but my heart tells me that he needed me and I wasn't there."

"No, you just would have been a witness, Kate." I say, surprised by my own words, but realizing the veracity of them. No one can save an alcoholic but themselves.

"Perhaps you are right." She concedes with a sigh. "But it does seem that me coming back and seeing him on a regular basis now seems to be helping him a bit. I've noticed him slowing down the longer I've been here, but he's still relying on the bottle to get him through the day. Not sure how he still manages to hold onto his vacuum repair business, but he does."

"I guess all you can do is just be there for him now and maybe some day..." I say, trying to sound positive.

As I sit on my couch listening to Kate's story about her dad I realize that this is as much as I've ever heard her talk about her family. It's strange but I feel closer to her now at 400 miles away than I did sitting right next to her the last time I saw her.

"Yeah, perhaps. I imagine it will take something quite drastic though." She replies.

"I guess so." I say somewhat absently. All of the sudden an idea hits me and I almost crumble where I stand. I go over the timeline in my head and can't believe I didn't see it before now. An image of my mother holding Kyle's letter meant for me, her reading it. Had she really understood what had happened that day?

I'm having a hard time focusing on the present and Kate instantly picks up on it.

"Are you okay, Sarah?" I barely hear her ask.

"Kate, can I call you back? I... I have to call my brother. I'm sorry." I think I hear her say something before I hang up, but I am already dialing his phone number and going over the questions I need to ask to see if my guess is right.

His phone rings and just when I'm gearing up to leave a message, he answers. "Sarah, hey, I was going to call you later. What's up?"

I take a deep breath. "Cole I need to ask you a few questions about Mother." I say in a rush. I feel bad diving right into it, but I have no idea how else to bring it up and my need to know is growing into a steady gnawing in my gut.

"Go ahead." Is all he says.

"When she stopped drinking, it was six months before she died, right?" He confirms. "Did she give you any reasons why? I mean any hint at all, anything you can remember?" I ask, hoping for a clue, a piece to a puzzle I'm not sure I want put together.

"She never did give a reason, Sarah." He responds sadly. I could tell that he wished he had an answer for me.

We sit in silence for a few seconds. I think about what to ask next, but Cole suddenly speaks, "There was a night though, a bad night. She was still drinking, but I think it was one of the last nights she did drink. I went over to her house after a neighbor complained. She was really, really wasted mind you, so I was only listening with half an ear as I was trying to get her back in the house. But she kept going on about ruining your life and not protecting you. Back then, I just thought she was talking about your fight that led you to leave." He breathes out loud and low and I know he's coming to the same conclusion I have.

I bite my lip and decide to tell Cole about Kyle and the letter and when he gave it to her.

"Sarah, I wished you would have told me. I would have gone with you to confront him." Cole says, sounding every much the protective brother, but also a friend.

"I know, but it was something I had to do on my own. But Jesus, the timing of that letter, Cole. It's eating away at me."

"Don't do this, Sarah. If we don't know for sure, it's the same as not knowing at all why she killed herself." He says pointedly, but with an underlying gentleness.

I begrudgingly acknowledge his point, but I still think I do know at least one of the reasons my mother stopped drinking and subsequently killed herself. As awful as it sounds, it would go a long way in showing my mother wasn't completely without heart or conscience. How fucked up is that thinking though?

"Sarah, I'm saying this because I love you and I want to see you heal completely from all of this. Will you go see someone about what happened? I think talking with a professional will go a long way in helping."

My first thought was to dismiss his advice, telling him I'm doing fine on my own now. But what could it hurt. Perhaps it would help to talk it all out with someone who is completely outside of the events. "I think you're right, Cole. I'll make an appointment with someone this week." I say, meaning it.

"Good. Look, I didn't mean to put any ideas in your head about Mother's reasons. Bottom line is, she didn't leave a note, she didn't atone, she took the coward's way out. Whatever she felt or didn't feel, it makes little difference now, doesn't it?"

I reflect on his words, taking them in and realizing the truth of them, in my head. Now I need my heart and conscience to process it. "I love you, Cole." I hear myself say. I smile, imagining the surprised look on his face.

"I love you too, Sarah. I'm sorry for all of the years I wasn't there for you." He says, his voice thick with emotion.

Before I start tearing up in earnest, I say, "I'm sorry too. I should have let you be there and I should have been there for you too."

"Well, it is all in the past now, isn't it?" He says brightly. I can't help but grin, my heart a little lighter.

"Indeed, like your full head of hair." I deadpan and am rewarded with a loud, bellowing laugh.

"Call me after your first appointment." Cole says after we have both wiped our eyes.

"Count on it, Brother." I say in response, smiling as I press the button to end the conversation.

I call Kate back, but only get her voicemail. I'm actually relieved as I don't have to explain myself right away. I apologize profusely and ask her to call me back when she can.

Foregoing dinner, I undress, shower, and crawl into bed. Despite my mind being full, I fall asleep immediately, emotionally exhausted.

Chapter 10

I'd thought about seeing a therapist when I was at my darkest periods, but something always kept me from it: Money, time, plain fear. Giving voice to what happened made me think that once I did that I could never put it in the past. After opening up to my brother, however, I realized that the ironic thing was that not giving voice to it was what made it stay in the present.

Now, walking out of my first therapist appointment, I'm happy to admit that it had gone better than I'd hoped. It was almost easy to tell her the events and get her feedback on how to deal with them from here on out. She did suggest coming back to her once a week, which alarmed me, but her reasoning was simple. I am definitely on the right track but the issues I have aren't going to be resolved in one visit. Still, that one visit really makes me think I can put all of this behind me.

It only added to my ebullient mood as of late. After leaving a message for Kate to call me back two weeks ago, we've been talking daily. It has become our routine for her to call me after I get home from work. Sometimes we are on the phone for hours, sometimes only a few minutes. Our topics range from childhood stories to favorite music to what we are having for dinner that night.

Neither of us have brought up what the daily conversations meant. Initially all I wanted to do was ask, "Where is this heading?" But I refrained because something told me I could fuck it up if I brought it up.

I look at my watch and realize I've got to call my brother first before also calling Kate to give my first therapist visit report, so I pick up my pace. As a result of my abrupt ending of our conversation two weeks ago, I had to fill her in a bit about the reason, including the decision to see a therapist. She showed the same kind of patience that she always does, knowing there's more to the story, but not pressing.

I even brought it up with my therapist, whether to speak to Kate about it. Her conclusion was the same as my brother's. If she was important to me, it was probably something that she should know.

When I reach home, I call my brother and we talk for only a few minutes, but I fill him in on what the therapist had to say and that I'd be seeing her once a week for a while.

Now, phone in hand, I work out how to let Kate in on my past. I'm scared how she'll react when she realizes I am more fucked up than even she originally thought. I keep thinking to myself what Cole said though. At least I'll have no secrets. She'll know everything. Then I'll see where I stand.

Taking a deep breath and wiping my hands on my jeans, I dial her number and wait two and a half rings before she answers.

"Hey, how'd it go?" She asks, genuine concern in her voice. I walk to the window of my small apartment and look down to the street below. I take a deep breath and begin.

"It went well. I'll be seeing her once a week, but she says I'm on the right track." I tell her.

"Yeah? Well, it sounds like it was a good move then." She says in a warm yet neutral tone. She's leaving me an out, in case I want to change the subject, I sense.

"Thanks. I guess it has been a long time coming." I continue. I struggle internally with how to continue. Truth is, it is hard for me to share this part of my story without knowing the context of our relationship. It is a bit of a paradox. Telling her could scare her away but not telling her could be seen as me not wanting to let her in fully, because I do, very much. I guess whether she wants that is the question. Her history with her ex though compels me to lay all my cards on the table. It is all I can think to do to begin separating myself from her past relationship. Like Cole said, if she can see how far I've come, perhaps she'll see that I am different.

And so I tell her my story. All of it. My brother's friend cornering me, my mother's reaction. What my brother did that night. My mother's alcoholism, the men she'd bring home. Of course, ending with the event that led me to leave town and the decision I made that still cuts at my soul.

Aside from a couple of clarifying questions, she remained silent through it all until the end. When I finally finish and there is silence on my end as well, I hear that she has been crying quietly. I wait for any questions, but there are none. I was pretty thorough. I decide to push on, I don't want to leave anything unsaid tonight. My only regret is that we are not having this conversation face to face.

"In the last month or so, I've been working really hard to come to terms with these events in my past, finally. You are a part of that." I don't want to scare her, but I want her to know the truth. "Like I said in my letter, you opened my eyes to a future."

I hear her sigh heavily, and I know in that instant that I have said too much. So much for laying all my cards on the table.

"Sarah, I feel like you are looking at me to be the answer for your happiness. I can't be the one who heals you. I can't be the person you are going to pin your hopes on to see you through. I won't do that again." She says this with such sadness, I want to cry for her. I also have an overwhelming urge to find the chef and pummel her.

I also know that the person I was only a few weeks ago would begin to concede defeat or change the subject at her words. But I'm tired of being compared to someone that used her past as an excuse to do what she pleased.

"Kate, I expect nothing more from you then for you to just be yourself. I don't expect you to take care of me, or tread lightly, or whatever. For me, just being in your life helps me forget all the things that have been bringing me down for so long." I say with conviction, willing her to see the other side of this.

I hear the tears in her voice as she says, "Well, that's the problem for me. Sometimes being with you makes me remember how I was before. Remember that night before I had to leave for my conference, how you reacted? I never want to be in that position again, having to deal with someone who unravels at the slightest disappointment."

I close my eyes tightly in frustration. I'm still just another wounded soul, who has found Kate's light and is now dimming it with my past. How can I argue with that? If that is all she will ever see in me?

"You know, I saw that the moment you said something, and I felt like complete shit. I understood instantly that my actions brought back those memories for you and I am still sorry for that." I say. When I'm met with silence, I continue. "Kate, I'll admit, I'm a work in progress here, but I am working. Just give me a chance."

"Why?" She asks plaintively.

"Because I think we could be really good for each other and to each other. I know we haven't known each other for long, but I know what you make me feel. Leaving you was harder than coming back to that damn town to bury my mother. I don't only see what you bring out in me, I see what I could bring out in you, if you'd only let me. I'm not the only one who has noticed this either. I want to be there when you need to vent about a student, I want to listen when you need to talk about your father. I want to be there for you, period. I'm healing on my own, with or without you, but I know it would mean even more if I could be with you. I can promise you too, I'm not afraid of the burden of happiness. I've gone so long without it, now that I have it within my reach, I want to embrace it. Sharing it with you would be even better."

She is silent for so long, I begin to think she's hung up on me. But then I hear her. "I know there is definitely something between us, Sarah. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. But I don't think it is enough for me right now. I know you probably think I'm being terribly unfair, but I'm so scared of what I'm opening myself up to with you, I don't think I could truly give you everything you'd need. I'm sorry, Sarah."

I close my eyes tightly, willing the lump in my throat to dissipate.

"And I'm so sorry for the things that happened to you, Sarah. I truly wish that I was brave enough to give us a try. The truth is, I just can't. I barely survived Casey."

The last sentence hits me and for probably the first time, I am truly seeing this through Kate's eyes. But I can't stop the frustration and anger I feel at not being able to make her see I'm not Casey.

"I guess -" I start off, ready with a caustic retort, but then realize that it would be something someone like Casey would say. I take a breath and start over, asking the one question I must know the answer to tonight. "Can we still be friends?"

"Isn't that my line? Or is it, 'It's not you, it's me.'" She says lightly as we both chuckle at my honest, yet inadvertently cliche question. The levity is much welcomed. She does answer my question quite frankly though after our laughter has died out. "I'd be upset if we weren't."

I smile a genuine smile at that. "Kate, meeting you has been a revelation. I know you don't want to believe it and I know it scares you. I'd be lying if I said I don't want more, but above all, your friendship is very important to me. I don't want to give that up."

"Me neither." She says resolutely.

And on that note, I feel our conversation can't and shouldn't go any further tonight. I bid her goodnight with a promise to call her next week.

To Be Continued...