Ice Cold - Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Landon Reilly
I never wanted to get used to being in Wren's car, but it had become a familiar place for me. It was always clean, and it had an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that had a new car scent. The seats were leather with a section of suede on the back. And there was nothing in it to really personalize it which somehow actually made it even more Wren.
Neither of us said anything when I got in the car. He just started driving, nothing but silence between us. He didn't even have one of his stupid audiobooks playing. I couldn't tell if that meant there was something going on with him or if he just wanted to sit in silence.
When we got on the high way was when I finally decided to speak up.
"Where are we going?" I asked, glancing over at him.
At first glance, Wren just looked the same as he always did. Casual, unbothered, calm, collected. But when I looked closer I noticed his jaw was set tightly, his eyes set intently on the road, and his hands gripping the steering wheel like he was afraid it would fall off.
"Where are we going?" I repeated, more urgency in my tone.
The tension slipped from his face so fast that I questioned if it was even there in the first place. He glanced at me briefly before setting his eyes back on the road.
"Just going for a drive," he said. "There doesn't always have to be a destination."
"But why?"
I was asking myself that question as much as I was asking him. Why did he want me to come with him and why did I say yes? I was still angry with him and myself for the way he made me feel, yet I opened myself up for these feelings by getting in his car just because he asked me to.
I always wanted to be alone, but I didn't like feeling lonely. With Wren it was just... different.
"Because driving is calming for me," Wren replied.
"You're always calm," I retorted with a scoff.
"I'm glad it appears that way," he said.
I stared at him, unsure on how to take that. Wren never let himself be vulnerable. He always had this mask of indifference, hiding the deepest parts of himself away so far that it seemed like those parts didn't even exist. But, just for a brief moment, he let that mask slip, revealing a side to him I'd never seen. A side that showed he wasn't always as collected as he seemed.
"I don't know why I agreed to this," I admitted.
Wren grinned. "Because you can't stay away from me, despite thinking that I ruin you."
"You do ruin me," I said, though I knew I couldn't blame him for my feelings. "You're insufferable."
"Hm," Wren hummed.
The fact that he had no words for that made me slightly guilty that I was placing blame on him that he didn't deserve. It was my own mind and demons that made me feel the way I did. But I couldn't admit that to him, I couldn't let him have something else over me.
"It's you who can't stay away from me," I said with a glare.
"Hm," Wren hummed again. "I suppose you're right about that. At least I don't try to hide it."
I didn't have anything to say to that.
We stayed silent for a while after that. Wren pulled off the highway and stopped at a drive through, ordering two orders of fries and two waters. He placed the waters in the cupholders then handed the bag of fries off to me before driving away.
"Can you feed me a fry?" Wren asked, and I gave him an incredulous stare. "Well?"
"No."
"But I'm starving," Wren continued. "You wouldn't want me to starve, would you?"
"I think you'll manage."
"I don't think I will. I'm already starting to feel faint. Any moment now I'll—"
I cut him off by shoving a fry into his mouth just to shut him up.
Wren's lip brushed against my finger as he took the fry into his mouth and I froze there for a moment. He glanced at me briefly, his mouth still, just barely, touching my finger. I pulled away when his eyes met mine, wiping my hand on my pants and looking away from him through the window.
This was exactly why he messed with my head. Any small gesture or moment and I was feeling all sorts of things inside of me I couldn't place, things I was better off not feeling at all. But as time went on, it seemed more and more like there was nothing I could do about it. Being in Wren's presence was always going to bring about these feelings. The only thing I could actually do would be to stay away from him forever. But the universe seemed to always have a way of brining us back together.
"Another fry please," Wren said, pulling me from my thoughts.
I held the bag out for him and he shook his head.
"I can't take a hand off the wheel," he said.
"I'm not going to keep feeding you."
He sighed. "Fine. We're almost there anyway."
I didn't even have a chance to ask where before we were pulling into a familiar place. A vaguely familiar place, somewhere Wren had taken me before.
I didn't remember much from that night. But I did remember crying in this seat in front of this same view of the beach. I remembered Wren's kindness that night and the day after and how he never held that night against me.
"Do you come here a lot?" I asked as Wren parked the car and took his fries out of the bag.
He shrugged as he began eating.
"Not as much as I want to," he replied. "I like to come here to be alone."
Yet he brought me with him.
"So why the fuck am I here?"
He looked over at me, the shine of the moon glistening over his skin and making his eyes sparkle. I felt taken aback for a moment with his stare on me.
"You said the same thing that night," he said.
"What?"
"The first night I took you here, when you were screaming at me in my room, you said I ruined you."
I didn't remember that, though I believed I had said it. It was something that always crossed my mind. Whenever he made me feel the way I did, my fathers voice was always in my head telling me I was disgusting, immoral, ruined.
"And you said it earlier," Wren continued. "When we woke up. You calmed down when I took you for a drive last time, took you here. I figured if you're saying the same thing, you're probably in a similar headspace, feeling the same way you felt that night."
I was at a loss for words. This was a side of Wren I hadn't seen, not much of anyway. This caring, thoughtful side that could change my entire view of him.
I didn't want him to show me this side of him. I needed to see what he usually showed me, the side of him that frustrated me and made me so angry.
Because seeing him this way only made me feel guilty about the blame I placed on him for my feelings.
It made me question who the real Wren was.
"I don't need you to take care of me," I muttered, staring at the side of his face as he looked out at the ocean.
He didn't turn to look at me, didn't say a word. And that only made me angry.
"Do you hear me?" I asked, louder this time. "I don't need this. I don't need you. You think you know everything, but you don't. You sit there and act like you know the answer to all my problems, but you don't know anything. I don't need you to take me on drives and buy me food and do whatever the fuck else you think calms me down. I don't need you."
He finally turned to face me again, this time with an infuriating grin on his face. I wanted to look away, hating that I still let myself be attracted to him. I hated the way the moonlight made him glow and I hated the grin that worked as a mask, hiding his true emotions from his face. I hated him and I hated myself.
"But you came anyway," Wren said, his voice soft and smooth, almost seductive.
And he was right. He always was. He saw right through my words and knew it was all just garbage I was spewing to make myself feel better.
I wished I could walk away from him, but it felt like he was the only person around me that actually knew me.
So I went with him on this drive, and I probably always would.
***
When I checked into the counselor's office on Wednesday afternoon, they handed me a questionnaire to fill out while I waited for my appointment.
1. Are you having suicidal thoughts right now, or have you had suicidal thoughts within the past month?
I circled no. I hadn't gotten to that point. It was more just the thought of not wanting to exist, which I was sure any therapist wouldn't like to hear that either.
I moved onto the next question.
2. Are you having any homicidal thoughts right now, or have you had homicidal thoughts within the past month.
An easy no. Unless wanting to strangle Wren should be considered a homicidal thought.
3. Do you have supportive people in your life?
I circled yes after a brief pause. I had the Hansons. And Livi.
4. How is your relationship with your family?
The options were: excellent, good, fair, bad. None of them seemed to accurately describe my relationship with my family. My relationship with Livi was good, my relationship with my parents was worse than bad.
I left that one blank.
I didn't have a chance to finish the rest of the questions before I was being called into the counselor's office.
My counselor was named Ms. Rivera. She was just a counselor at the school, not an actual therapist. I was told she was going to evaluate me and refer me to a therapist in the area after our session.
"Come on in, Landon," she said with a warm smile. "I can take that questionnaire from you."
I handed her the paper and followed her into her office. She closed the door behind us and gestured for me to sit down in the seat in front of her desk. Ms. Rivera sat behind the desk and looked over the questionnaire.
"It's okay that you didn't get through all of it," she said, looking up from the page. "We'll still talk about it."
I cleared my throat and nodded. "Alright."
"Let's start with the family question," Ms. Rivera continued. "Are the supportive people in your life your family?"
"One of them," I said. "My sister."
"But not your parents?"
I shook my head. "No."
She nodded and wrote something down on the sheet.
"Have you ever intentionally physically harmed yourself?" she asked.
"No."
She wrote that down.
"Can you tell me about why you're seeking therapy?"she asked, looking back up at me.
I adjusted the way I was sitting. This chair was uncomfortable and I felt scrutinized under her stare.
"I had a therapist back at home before coming to school," I started. She nodded with a thoughtful expression.
"And what was this therapist for?"
"Mainly my anger problems," I told her. That was what it started as anyway. It became something different once my therapist about my family and religious trauma.
"So mainly anger," Ms. Rivera said, writing something else on the sheet. "What else?"
"We talked about my problems with my family and, uh, my problems growing up with their religion," I started. "And, um, my uh sexuality."
She nodded, writing again.
"And what are your goals you're hoping to accomplish in therapy?"
"Goals?" I asked.
She looked up from the paper.
"Yes, your goals," Ms. Rivera said. "What you hope to accomplish by going to therapy."
"Um, to get better?"
"It's not really a matter of getting better," she started. "A therapist is not going to make you get better, but they're going to be able to give you the tools and the skills to help you cope with things and become more self aware."
"Then I guess my goal is to learn how to cope with my emotions better," I began. She looked at me to say more. "To learn how to stop hating myself... and to make positive changes in my life to help me reach those goals."
Ms. Rivera nodded and wrote that down.
"Good. I think those are good goals to start with."
She wrote some more stuff down for a few moments before looking back up at me.
"Is there anything you'd like to discuss before we finish?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No."
"Okay, so what I'm going to do is contact a therapist in the area that is covered by the school health insurance. I'll have them give you a call to set up an appointment. In the meantime, if you ever need a session, you can always make an appointment here. If you need a session urgently, you can give us a call or come directly here and we can get you in immediately, okay?"
I nodded and stood from the chair. "Okay."
Ms. Rivera walked me out of the office and once I was out of the building, I started running back toward my dorm. I knew I would be cutting it close to hockey practice with this appointment, but it was all they had available.
I got my things and ran to the training facility, not even bothering to wait for the bus that could bring me there. When I got there, everyone was already out on the ice. I cursed at myself and got ready faster than I ever had in my life.
As soon as I got out on the ice, Coach Foreman stopped me with a hard expression.
"Reilly, you can see me after practice and explain why you're late."
I nodded and worked myself into the drills they had started.
The last thing I wanted to do was explain to my coach that I needed therapy, but it was inevitable, especially if it was going to cause me to be late to practice.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be an every week thing. When I saw a therapist back home, it was every two weeks. I was hoping I could get away with once a month now. But that all depended on how much help the therapist thought I needed.
When practice ended, I hit the shower and then got back into my street clothes. Coach Foreman was waiting for me in his office when I was done.
I tapped on the door and he motioned for me to come in and close it, then motioned for me to sit down.
"I know I explained at the beginning of the season that I expect everyone to be here on time, every day," he started. "And I especially didn't expect you to ever show up late, so I'm going to need an explanation."
"I had an appointment at the counseling office," I said in a quiet voice. I really didn't want anyone else to hear this. "I knew I would be cutting it close, but I thought I'd make it. That's why I didn't say anything."
He was silent for a moment, his expression giving nothing away. I couldn't tell whether or not he was judging me and that made the situation worse.
"Well," he started. "Is everything alright?"
"Kind of," I replied, looking down at the floor. "They're setting me up with a therapist. I don't know what the schedule is going to be like."
Coach Foreman nodded.
"Alright," he said. "When you know more, let me know if it affects our schedule here. I'm sure we can figure something out so you can get all your practice in and get to all your appointments."
"Thank you."
I didn't know what else to say. I knew he really couldn't react badly, but I didn't expect him to just accept that I might have to be late to practice sometimes.
"I think you're a really good player, Landon," Coach said. "And I really want to get you to your full potential. That's why I was hard on you about being late at first."
I nodded and stood up from the chair. Coach dismissed me and I sent a quick text to Matthew Hanson to let him know about my counseling appointment. He responded, saying "that's great!" with five smile emojis at the end.
I bypassed the rest of my teammates who were still in the locker room to grab my things. Most of them were looking at me with curious glances after seeing me walk out of  Coach Foreman's office. I paid them no mind and left the room.
I got back to my dorm and deflated, finally able to be alone for the rest of the night.