Truthfully

Chase took a long drink of the tea from the mug in front of him. It was one he'd had since high school: a black one carved to look like Darth Vader from Star Wars. He couldn't help but smile softly as he looked at the mug. It had been a gift from his sister years ago, more a joke than anything else. Still, he'd gotten a ton of use out of the thing. Memories like that were ultimately what made life.

"Chase?" Justine asked, snapping him out of his musings. "What's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, trying to let out all his worries and doubts. It wasn't working all that well.

"I have to talk to you about something. I should've talked to you about this ages ago."

She nodded and took his hand in hers, looking him in the eyes.

"Am I about to learn what it is you've been doing instead of hiking?"

His eyes widened and he nearly dropped the mug.

"H-how do you…"

"Chase," she said softly, smiling. "Who do you think you're talking to? I'm an addict. I know when someone's lying to me. So, what have you been up to?"

Chase sat in a stunned silence. He'd been going over this unpleasant conversation a few dozen times since leaving the therapist and no matter how optimistically he'd envisioned it, it hadn't been like this.

"I've been struggling since Big Charlie came and… well, it's been a little rough since then."

She nodded, looking attentively at him, but not interrupting.

"I know we talked about it, but I… I bought a gun. That's where I've been when I leave all the time. I've been going to a range and practicing."

Justine nodded, and while her eyes narrowed slightly, she didn't speak.

"I think… I think the ritual helps calm me down a little. Somehow… shooting makes things… mechanical I suppose. I didn't tell you because you said we should have a gun. I knew you felt strongly about it, and somehow it seemed like that was a better answer than going without. I almost told you the day I got it, but I was afraid. Then a bit of time passed and it was even harder… and it just got worse and worse the longer I let things go."

Justine didn't speak for a long moment. Finally she stood and breathed deeply, in and out. She repeated this twice more before turning. When she spoke, her voice was calm, but it had lost its slightly cheery tone.

"Chase, thanks for telling me. I just wish you trusted me more."

"But I…"

"You waited months to tell me about the gun. You knew I didn't want one so you decided to pretend to agree instead of actually stating your own view."

He grimaced and knew he had no response to that, because it was exactly what he'd done.

"Chase, firstly, when I said I didn't want a gun, I meant that I don't want a gun. They bring me too close to my past and I don't like them. If you felt scared and like you wanted one in case of another break-in, you should have bought one."

Chase let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He couldn't express the relief he felt at knowing she wasn't upset with him.

"I wish you trusted me enough to talk to me about this when you did it. I wish you'd trusted me enough to tell me when you were struggling. Instead you put on this stupid front and just made things… what they are. I trusted you when I was trying to change. I guess I just thought there was something of an understanding between us."

The relief in his chest turned to ice at her words, and he felt like he'd been slugged in the stomach. She continued, and while she was not harsh, her words were much colder than they had been.

"But I guess I don't really have a right to ask it. I'm glad you told me. If you want my opinion, you should do what the therapist tells you, but do what you think is right."

She turned away from him and went to her bed before wrapping herself up in the blankets and turning her back on him. A part of Chase wanted to go after her, and talk things out. However, he couldn't deny he had been in the wrong, and so chose to accept the dismissal for what it was. He wearily went to his bed, and collapsed without showering.

As the morning rays peeked through his window, Chase glowered at the sun. If ever there was a moment for a rainy day, it would've been then. The very last thing he wanted to do was get out of this bed and start his day. In fact, in that moment the roof could've collapsed in on him and he doubted he would have the energy to move or even care. Several long minutes passed and Chase resolutely shifted his shoulder slightly

Why shouldn't he just sleep in? What did it matter if he got some more sleep? It wasn't like he had anything going on that day anyway. Besides, he really didn't have the heart to face Justine again, not after last night. So, he closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep.

He wasn't sure exactly how late it was when he woke up again, but the sun was no longer shining through his window. He reached out slowly with a clumsy hand and found his cellphone on the bedside table, and checked the time. The phone's LED display blinded him as it shining the time into his retinas.

Glowering, Chase saw it was one in the afternoon. He sighed and put the phone back. He really ought to get up and shower… he could smell the vague sent of his own stink. Still, getting up was just as unpleasant an idea as showering was. In fact, he felt pretty sure he could no more shower than he could build a skyscraper single-handed. He made a vague attempt to swing his legs out of the bed, and they protested, refusing to move.

Chase sighed and sunk his head back into the pillow. He could skip one day of work. He wasn't exactly hurting for cash at the moment. There was no harm in taking one day off… surely. Content, and so, so tired, Chase turned over and went back to sleep.

When he next opened his eyes, things were quiet. There were no birds, and the sound of the outside world did not penetrate his bedroom walls. Nighttime. Darkness. He'd slept for a full day, and yet still found that he had no desire to move. His limbs seemed even heavier than they had been. If getting out of bed had been a daunting task before, it would've been a Herculean feat now. Chase lay there in the darkness, past the point of sleep and too physically drained to move.

He wanted to do nothing, only that he was already doing nothing and it was horrible. He could feel his stomach growling with hunger except that he had ability to get up and eat. He didn't even have the energy to switch on his bedroom lights. So he lay there in the darkness, dully aware of the ache in his shoulder from sleeping on his side. If he wanted anything in that moment it was to turn over to his other side, yet he felt as if he did not even have the strength for that.

Time passed out, slowly. Chase didn't watch the news or videos or listen to a podcast, just lay there in the darkness, slowly contemplating his own failures of the past few months. Weirdly, he didn't feel worse when he dwelled on his thoughts like this, rather he just felt more and more numb. It was almost like thinking about them put his body into an even deeper lull of apathy and disinterest.

Twice, Chase made an earnest attempt to get up from the bed, but to no avail. Inch by agonizing inch, Chase watched the sunlight peek into and creep down his bedroom wall. It brought none of the exhilaration to excitement of a new day to him. Instead, he only acknowledged that it was, in fact, a new day. He'd done absolutely nothing and it had meant nothing. He tried dully to recall what day of the week it was. Was it Wednesday? Or was it Thursday now?

After what may have been an hour or several, his door slowly opened. Unable to turn and face the door, Chase simply called out, surprising himself with how hallow and soft his voice sounded.

"Hey."

Justine circled the bed, and sat down on the edge, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey yourself," she said softly, clearing having woken up only a little while ago. "You been in here a while."

"Yeah."

"You alright?"

He didn't answer.

"I just… I'm sorry I was angry with you," she said. "You were having a hard time and you were honest with me. For that, I wanted to say thanks. I know things are… difficult right now. But us not talking isn't going to help. I've screwed up a lot of stuff by staying angry. I don't want this to be one of them."

Chase managed a very weak little smile at that.

"Me neither."

"So… you want to get up today?"

"I honestly don't know if I can."

Justine nodded softly, and instead of asking questions, reached down to grab his arm. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she hoisted him until he was sitting upright. Chase glanced at her and saw a look of determination.

"I know what depression looks like, Chase. Remember?"

He nodded softly and realized that she had identified his emptiness before he'd been able to. He had been depressed and hadn't had the name for it. It was odd, because to him depression was always something he figured would be very strong, and easily visible. However, sorrow and grief very extremely strong emotions, whereas depression was sort of the absence of any desire or feeling. It was horrible.

Justine moved his feet onto the floor before putting his arm around her shoulders once more.

"Alright… One, two, three!" she said and hoisted him upright.

Chase did his best to help, and being upright helped a little. Still he ended up leaning against Justine more than anything. She pulled him towards the bathroom and started up the shower before pushing him into it. He ended up hitting the wall, but the rush of the water helped. Somehow, the running water started to cleanse and relax him. It was only at that point of relaxation that he realized how tense he'd been.

As the water started to wash some of his smell away, so too a bit of the fog in his brain started to be cleansed. It wasn't lifted entirely, but Chase found that was he had a bit more control over his limbs and body. His movements were still sluggish and clumsy, but they were deliberate.

"You think you're alright to wash up?" Justine asked, apprehensively.

He nodded slowly, and she nodded back, walking out. She left the door open and he heard her begin busying herself in the kitchen.

"Thank you," he mumbled and he began to peel the wet clothing from his body.

His shower was at least twice as long as it normally took, but being clean really was helping. It helped him feel at least a little more accomplished. Sure, he was still being a shut-in, but it was a start. He was out of bed, he was clean, and now he might actually be able to eat something. It wasn't a cure for his recent failures by any stretch, but it was a start.