Cate

Once I got back to my regular routine in DC, concern for Zac continued to weigh on me. Regrettably, two hundred miles separated him from me. To make up for the distance, we spent countless hours texting each other back and forth. I often consoled him on the phone until well past midnight to make sure he was okay, to listen as he tried to come to terms with the full extent of Timothy Mazur's crimes. Our talks were usually pretty heavy in nature. Tragedy and disillusionment became a recurring theme.

Day after day, I replayed these conversations in my mind more times than I probably should, in class, at bed, while driving, during moments when I obsessed over the shadows on the ceiling before bedtime—

***

"Stuck on your dad again?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I guess... I can't get over the fact that I was so fucking blind for so many years. I keep obsessing over every little thing, trying to pinpoint memories or clues or signs about everything my dad hid from me..."

"Were you able to single out anything?"

"Not really."

"No?"

"I mean, my dad was gone—at the office, on business trips, you know, working—most of the time. The fucker was never around enough for me to really get to know him."

"My dad was the same way. I guess their careers didn't allow them to come home much."

"Right? My dad wasn't there for most of my childhood, but I never held it against him because he was nicer to me than my mom."

"I can see why, as a kid, you'd prefer him over her."

"My whole perception of the past feels so skewed."

"Yeah?"

"I think I might've placed him on too much of a pedestal, and it was unfair to my mom. I'm beginning to see how, simply by being absent from our lives most of the time, my dad forced her to play the bad cop—nagging me, disciplining me, raising me—while he got to swoop in and be the good cop whenever it was fun and convenient."

Zac's tone was laced with guilt.

"Please don't blame yourself. You were too young to know better, and it's never too late to reach out to your mom, to let her know you understand her side of the story a bit more."

"I should've known about my dad, though. I should've—"

I interrupted Zac. I couldn't stand listening to him spiral into guilt. "No, he's the one who fucked up, not you! How could you know what he was doing behind closed doors? His choices have nothing to do with you. The only person you're responsible for—is you—and you're a fucking beast, Zac, never forget how strong you've always been, how far you've come against the odds, and how much farther you can still go..."

"I dunno, Cate. Some days... I feel like... I can accept this shitty new reality. Other days... I dunno what to do with myself. Or my thoughts. It gets so insane inside my head."

He sounded so alone, and his anguish tugged at my heart

painfully. "Oh, Zac... I wish you weren't in New York. I wish I wasn't in DC. I wish we lived closer."

"Me, too. I miss you, like, all the time."

Never had I resented two hundred miles so much. Zac's only allies in New York were his mom, Wes, and Dr. Jalloh. I wanted to be there with him, too.

***

Perhaps, the only upside to our shared sadness was that Zac's trust in me was beginning to return.

***

"Have you tried talking to your mom about your dad? She might be able to support you better if she knew about your struggle—"

"No, my mom's... impossible... to deal with right now. I've tried asking her questions about my dad, but she refuses to talk to me about anything that matters."

"What about Dr. Jalloh?"

"What about her?"

"You should talk to someone, other than me, or Wes, about your dad."

"Why? You getting sick of listening to me bitch and moan all the time?"

Zac had said this to me teasingly, but I could sense the panic he was trying to mask behind lighthearted tones.

"No, no, no, not at all, but..."

"What?"

"I'm not a professional like Dr. Jalloh. Neither is Wes. All we can do is support you on the sidelines, but we can't help you walk through the minefield. Not in the ways that would help on a deeper level, you know? Maybe Dr. Jalloh can show you better ways to cope. Or a new way to look at this shit so you can move forward."

"But I don't trust Dr. Jalloh. I trust you, Cate."

***

God, when Zac said those words out loud—I trust you, Cate—it felt like he handed me the moon and the stars in a perfectly wrapped gift box.

Earning back Zac's trust had meant the world to me.

So, I tried to rally harder for him to do the right thing, the hard thing, because it would help him most in the long run.

***

"You don't have to tell Dr. Jalloh everything. Just tell her what you're willing to share."

"I'm not telling her shit."

"Zac—"

"My mom's the one paying her by the hour. Not me. The shrink isn't trying to help me, Cate. She's working for my mom."

***

Zac was resistant to therapy. There was no denying it in his attitude.

Although, I suspected his objections had less to do with Dr. Jalloh's trustworthiness as a shrink and more to do with his grudge against his mom. He didn't want to open up to Dr. Jalloh simply because she represented another means for his mom to control him.

I wondered if it would be possible to get Zac a new therapist. Someone he actually wanted to confide in. Someone who wasn't tied to his mom.

I also wondered if it would be possible for Zac to salvage his relationship with his mom.

In the meantime, I did my best to shape myself into his support system, and, I wasn't going to sugarcoat it, that shit took a toll on me. But I pushed through because there didn't seem to be anyone else in Zac's life that could understand his turmoil. Not his mom. Not Dr. Jalloh. Not even his best friend, Wes. I was the only one who had survived the wreckage with him the first time.

To Zac's credit, he began opening up a little more about the hard topics he tended to gloss over in the past.

Hard topics like his depression.

***

"I don't know if I'll ever be... okay."

"I mean... is anyone ever truly 'okay?' We're all fucked up in one way or another."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I'm not! Some people simply know how to hide their baggage better than others. Take it from me. I used to hide my shit because I didn't want anyone to think of me as weak."

"You're anything but weak, Cate. You're the baddest bitch I know."

"I could say the same about you."

"Ha!"

"I'm being serious, Zac."

"I'm being serious, too."

***

Day in and day out, I tried to be as present as possible for Zac, but it was hard as hell to care about him so much, to see him hurting, and not be able to offer him anything more than friendship.

***

"Have you had any... episodes... lately?"

Episodes—had become our new code word for his cutting.

"No, no, not at all. Not since—"

"Not since—what?"

"I've been good, Cate. Don't worry. I mean, my... moods... are nowhere near as bad as they used to be, I've been taking my meds, and I can pull myself out of a slump now even though it's, like, not easy."

"I don't think it's supposed to be easy."

"Probably not."

"You're on the right track, though, if you can recognize your ups and downs and acknowledge that they're... temporary. Temporary, as in, they won't last, which means you can get through it if you let yourself ride out the worst of the wave."

"That's what I've been trying to do, let the crazy run its course. Before I do something stupid."

"You're not crazy or stupid, Zac."

"Debatable."

"Stop it. You're fucking awesome. I won't let you say otherwise."

"Okay, fine, you're right. I'm pretty fucking awesome."

"That's the spirit."

"All joking aside..."

"Hmm?"

"I want you to know that I'm gonna keep working on myself. I'll get through this shitshow one day. I wanna be strong for you. Just like you've been strong for me."

Despite Zac's stubbornness and smartass quips, I could tell he was striving to get to a better place—internally—and, as hard as it was to watch my beautiful brown-eyed boy wade through his pain, I was proud of him for managing to stay afloat in such dark waters.

So fucking proud.

Our friendship carried on, deepening, strengthening, plodding on in this manner through rapid fire texts and late night phone calls.

***

"Honestly, I dunno what I'd do without you."

"I wish you wouldn't say that..."

"How come?"

"You'd find a way, Zac, with or without me. Because that's how we're wired. We're survivors. We're fighters. At our core."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You have me, know that I'm always in your corner, but you don't need me, okay? Never forget how strong you can be on your own."

***

Everything between us was fine.

Until December.

December marked our game changer, our deal breaker, the reason why I didn't see Zac again for two whole years.

By December, the first snow had already fallen, blanketing the streets in ice and powder and turning the city white on white on white. Snow enveloped the White House. More snow surrounded the domed Capitol Building with its white sandstone exteriors. Even more snow encircled the stately white marble of the Lincoln Memorial.

All across the capital, temperatures dropped to below freezing. Every time I stepped outside, a sharp, nippy breeze bit into my skin. Winter here wasn't as cold as Wellesley, but it was chilly enough.

In a way, this frigid wonderland reflected my state of mind.

Everything looked so pristine on the surface.

Senior year was going well.

My GPA ranking was set. I would likely graduate in the top ten of my class. My SAT and ACT scores were stellar. I held leadership positions in speech and debate and MUN. I was second chair in concert orchestra. Furthermore, my college apps had finally been submitted to Stanford, of course, and Georgetown, as my second choice, and Harvard, simply because it was Harvard, and Berkeley and UCLA—

Because Zac said that he would be applying to Berkeley and UCLA.

I know, I know.

I wasn't proud of myself for doing it, either, mooning over an ex I couldn't have, thinking about following him to the same college—

It wasn't like I'd really follow Zac even if I got into Berkeley or UCLA, certainly not at the expense of my own dreams, but a lovesick part of me still wanted to leave the option on the table.

Growing up felt weird.

Conflicting.

Beneath my layers upon layers of feigned calmness and supposed maturity lay hidden a chilled and bereft feeling of inadequacy.

I was becoming an adult.

Legally speaking, anyway.

Mentally and emotionally, though?

That was a different story. I could sense my hopes and idealism slipping away. I felt drained. Helpless. Complexities with no clear answers ruled my perceptions now.

There was a time when I thought turning eighteen would mean the end of my world as I knew it. My worldview had been laughably simplistic back then. So black and white. I thought my dad would cut me off because of his divorce agreement. I thought I would be left to my own devices.

For better or worse, I'd been wrong about so many things. I knew nothing about what it really meant to grow up and face my demons and fall in love.

I was certainly wrong about Zac and me.

During the first week of December, Zac gave me a call unlike all of the others we had shared together, and what he confessed to me altered... everything.

His voice wavered on the line. "H-Hey... how are you doing?"

"Good, I guess, but busy as hell. You?"

"Fine... I'm fine."

Zac's mumbling sounded strained to my ears. He didn't seem fine at all.

"You sure?"

A cough preceded his confession, "No, not really. There's, um, a few things I've been meaning to tell you, Cate..."