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37

BODHI

“You look good, Bodhi—clear.”

“I feel…clearer. I talked to my sister.”

“And?” Dr. Banks asks me with calmness.

“I asked for her forgiveness and explained to her my reason for pushing her away. I’m not sure why I doubted she would forgive me.”

“It seems you have a great sister.”

I nod. “The best.”

“How are the nightmares?” Dr. Banks asks as she flattens the sides of her ironed-to-perfection blazer.

“Few and far between.”

“You’ve accomplished a lot this past year. I’m sure talking to your sister has helped you breathe much easier, wouldn’t you say?”

I nod, because it has.

I feel closer to Penelope, closer than we’ve ever been. Her being here this past weekend was exactly what we needed to mend our broken relationship.

It feels good to have family in my life again. Unfortunately, she left yesterday, but we made the most of our time together.

I just wish she lived closer.

“I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I’m starting to believe I can be happy. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I’m excited to find out.”

I watch as Dr. Banks scribbles something on her sacred brown notepad and adjusts her glasses across her nose.

“Have you figured out a coping mechanism for your nightmares? Walk me through what one looks like and how you manage to settle yourself.”

I think about her question for a moment. Explaining what a nightmare looks like isn’t difficult; I can recite that like it’s nothing. However, the act of steadying myself is difficult to put into words.

“Most of the time, I’m in a deep sleep when it happens. I’ve noticed it’s the nights I’m exhausted and my body is spent. It feels as if my mind hibernates, and I can’t shut off my thoughts while I’m sleeping. I can feel my brain working overtime to make up for what it thinks it’s missing. And then the nightmare hits me. My body breaks out in a convulsive sweat, enough that I can feel the quivering bone deep. The topic of the nightmares, however, is different every time. I wish that was something I could control.”

Dr. Banks hums, gathering her thoughts before responding, “And how do you escape them?”

I let out a dry chuckle. It’s not funny, but it’s also not that simple. I wish I could escape them at the drop of a hat, but I can’t.

I recognize that when my stress is less, the nightmares occur less. When I’m on good terms with Navy, the nightmares are practically nonexistent.

Not to mention how I’m slowly making amends with the people I care about and myself.

This may be the first time I see myself as a priority and don’t feel hauntingly ill over it.

“I’m not sure…it’s not that simple.”

“Okay, I understand that. Can you at least tell me about your last one? How did you settle yourself from it?”

Navy.

Navy was there; it was the first time my body succumbed to sleep without a fight. I woke up feeling more rested than I had in years after a nightmare.

I may have been sweating and sore from thrashing, but my mind was calm.

“Someone I care about very much was there. Not in the bed with me. I fell asleep on the couch, and she found me in the middle of it,” I tell Dr. Banks.

God, I remember the feel of her soft hands soothing me gently and the unfamiliar song she sang.

Bad dreams, bad dreams, go away. Good dreams, good dreams, here to stay.

Her words and touch brought me astronomical comfort. That’s never happened before. I hate being snuck up on; it’s something I’m terrified will bite me in the ass one day. I never want to plant fear in the people I love, but it’s instinctual, something I’m not proud of, and something I’ve never known how to fix.

It has lessened since my release from prison, but the impulsive reaction still manifests. I’m terrified of hurting someone and not being conscious to realize it.

“She sounds like a very special someone. Someone who holds a lot of power over your care.”

I send Dr. Banks a look of confusion. Not to be a prideful man or anything, but…

She lets out a dry laugh. “Let me explain. That’s not a bad thing. To me, you come across as someone who carefully picks who they let in.” I nod. “It’s justifiable given what you’ve been through. For a woman to be the calm in your chaotic mind is meaningful enough to move mountains, Bodhi. It’s pretty remarkable if you ask me.”

“You saying she’s my saving grace or something, Doc?”

“If you want to call it that. But I was thinking more like the eye of your storm. If you’ve ever been educated on hurricanes, you’ll know chaos and destruction make up the outer bands. The calmest part of a storm is the eye. It’s eerie and still, but serves a purpose. However, it’s the strongest and you’d never know it. In your case, this woman who calms you…she’s your eye.”

Navy is the eye of my storm.

When Dr. Banks breaks down the role Navy plays in my life from only her quick observation, it makes me want to tell the whole fucking world.

I’ve spent so much of my life worrying about how everyone else is, that I never truly examined my heart for what I want.

I know I’ve always wanted Navy. At least for as long as I can remember having feelings to the extent I have for her.

Feelings so deep and riveting one might call it love.

Is it love? Do I love Navy Hayes? My best friend’s little sister?

All it takes is for her full and raspy laugh to fill my body with overflowing peace. Her snarky remarks and witty humor remind me why life is worth living. And her goddess-like body has me begging to find my place at her feet.

Navy is an enigma of a woman and custom-built just for me.

“I think you may be right, Doc. I think she always has been,” I tell Dr. Banks.

“Maybe that’s a step with her you may want to consider. After all, it is your happiness at stake.”

“It is.”

“This woman makes you happy, Bodhi?” Dr. Banks asks.

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

I nod without hesitation. “Plenty to be satisfied for eternity.”

Now it’s time to handle one small but very important thing first.

Then, I get my girl.

* * *

It is not easy to make amends.

Gaining closure.

It makes perfect sense why most people avoid it and live with shit for so long—until it kills them, at least.

Today, I’m choosing not to spend another day harboring the guilt I’ve felt every day for the last four years.

It’s time to defeat a demon that’s taken up too much space in my mind and break free. Break free from a burden I’ve already paid for, and make things right with a person I should have supported, no matter the cost.

The ringing on the other line resembles elevator music. It’s drawn out and somewhat daunting waiting for the receiver to answer.

Let’s hope she answers.

“Hello?” Shit. It’s her.

It’s been four years since I last heard Gwendolyn’s voice, and I have to say, she sounds much more mature than I remember. I guess time will do that to you.

I cough. “Oh, hey. Is this Gwendolyn?”

“Yes, who’s calling?” She’s still kind. I can hear it in her voice.

I guess, in my head, I always thought the accident would give her a reason to hate the world—hate me.

This is it. The moment I’ve imagined happening for the last four years.

I summon the courage to speak. “It’s Bodhi. Bodhi St. James.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Uh, hello? Gwendolyn?” I ask again more timidly this time.

Heavy breathing and shuffling echo from the other line, telling me she’s still there. “Oh, don’t mind me. I was checking the connection. You know, just making sure I’m not hallucinating, and Bodhi St. James is actually calling me.”

Well, strike me dead.

I chuckle. “It’s nice to see you’ve still got some spirit in you.”

Gwendolyn lets out an amused laugh. “You wouldn’t know, right?”

She’s upset, and she has every right to be. Her humor can’t hide it.

I exhale deeply. “Gwen, I’m sorry.”

Hearing her voice and the pain in her tone makes me regret not showing up for her sooner. I could have asked about her, and I could have done more while I was behind bars in terms of communication.

When I was incarcerated, I wrote her letters every day.

But I never received one in return. It makes sense.

I lost my chance.

A soft sniffle resounds from the other line, and I stay quiet, giving her room to speak when she’s ready.

“You…you were my best friend. And you forgot about me like I was nothing,” Gwendolyn cries out.

“I wrote you letters! Every single day.”

“I know you did. I know you did, Bodhi,” she whimpers.

“I hate hearing you upset, Gwendolyn. But I did try, and it was the only way I could at the time. I hope you understand that. Hearing your voice would have been too painful.”

“I understand that, Bodhi. I just wish over the two years you were in there you would have tried to call at least once. Is that so much to ask?”

The pain in my chest feels like seeing the paramedics rolling her away on a stretcher all over again.

I choke back a sound I never knew I could make, one that sounds a lot like overwhelming agony. I feel the splinters of suffering sever me from the inside out and all I can hope is that we end this call redeemed.

“Fuck, Gwendolyn. It’s not at all. I’ve hated myself for not calling every day since. I wanted to apologize; although late, you deserve it anyway. You deserved it sooner, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m not someone that holds a grudge. I won’t forget how you made me feel but I could never hate you for it.”

“You should. It will never not be my fault, no matter which way you look at it.”

Her sniffles settle before she speaks. “Don’t you get it, Bodhi? I forgave you the second the accident happened. What you seem to be forgetting is that I was drunk in that car with you. I’ve hated myself for you serving time while I continued on with my life.”

“I’d hardly call being taken by ambulance to the hospital ‘ going on with your life. ’ If it weren’t for my…”

I can barely say it.

Lucky for me, Gwendolyn beats me to it. “If it weren’t for your egg donor’s despicable behavior…yeah, you’re right. But let her take the blame, Bodhi. Let it be her fault, not yours.”

I never once considered casting the blame on my mother.

I’ve always held myself to a higher standard and been accountable for my actions. Even though I know I’m at fault for drinking and driving, my mother stirred the pot.

She chose to cheat and leave our family like ashes in the wind.

She chose to abandon my father for his brother.

Shitty people deserve shitty consequences.

If I can gain even a sliver of peace from putting the unspoken guilt on her, it’s worth it.

After all, I served my time.

“You’re right,” I tell Gwendolyn.

“I know I am,” she responds.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist, and it’s helped me a lot.”

“That’s great, Bodhi. I’m happy to hear you’re finally taking care of yourself. That’s important after everything you’ve been through.”

“Were you okay…after it happened? I feel stupid even asking you that,” I exhale. “I told Penelope I didn’t want to know. It was selfish of me but too painful to let myself burn that deep. I wasn’t sure I could handle what she would tell me.”

A small laugh comes from the other end of the line. “Yes, Bodhi. I was okay. I had some cracked ribs and a broken nose, but other than a few scratches, I made it out just fine. I knew it could have been worse, so I counted my blessings.”

Fuck. That’s a relief.

I anticipated much worse and I’m happy to hear Gwendolyn confirm that’s not the case.

“Thank fuck. I was prepared for the worst,” I tell her.

Gwendolyn chooses not to respond and murmurs, “I’m glad you called.”

I smile to myself. “Yeah…I’m glad I did, too.”

“Hey, Bodhi?”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever need to talk…I’m here. Don’t wait so long to call next time. Life’s too fucking short to not speak up.”

“I will. Thanks for hearing me out. Oh, wait!”

Gwendolyn waits for me to continue. “How’s your family doing? Penelope said they moved?”

She giggles softly. “Yep. Dad retired and thought buying an RV and traveling the country with my mom was a good idea. So far, they’ve only made it to Louisiana. I’m not convinced it’ll last but we’ll see.”

I smile, remembering all the times her dad sprung crazy ideas on her mom and she would laugh it off like they’d never do it. Now, here they are—doing it.

“Sounds like nothing has changed,” I say.

“No, it hasn’t.” I can hear her hesitate for a moment. “It was nice talking to you, Bodhi. Take care.”

“You too, Gwen.” And she hangs up the phone.