From the Top - Chapter 9

**It looks like there was an error on this post when it went up on Saturday, so I'm resetting it and resending it out now**

Since I was in Asheville, I decided to try to kill two birds with one stone. I didn’t know if Dr. Rothstein would be available, but his office wasn’t that far out of the way, and if he was, it meant Kat and I could move ahead with … whatever our new relationship was going to be.

The building was just as impressive as the last time I’d come here, with its white stone and glass exterior, looking just as fancy as I’d want a shrink’s business to look. There were a lot of other businesses in the building, of course, most with names that gave no clue as to what they actually did, but he occupied a good chunk of the fourth floor.

Strangely, just like the other times I’d been here, I noticed an antiseptic smell like you’d find in a regular doctor’s office. I wondered, briefly, if there was some kind of generic, antiseptic room deodorizer or something all doctors used, regardless of specialty, to get them all to smell basically the same.

I checked in with the receptionist, an older woman with cat-eye glasses perched on her nose, who told me Dr. Rothstein was just finishing up with a patient and I could take a seat. I found one of the cushiony chairs and pretended to look through a random magazine while I waited. Instead, my mind was jumping all over the place. What exactly I’d say about what happened between me and Kat, what exactly was happening between me and Kat, and how sick Willie had looked.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to stew for long.

Ten minutes later, the receptionist called my name and said, “The doctor will see you now.”

I’d been there before, but she still directed me to Dr. Rothstein’s office, the small light on the outside shining a dull green, I guess indicating it was okay to go inside.

“Come on in, Charlie. Have a seat,” Dr. Rothstein said, looking up from his desk.

Although he had the stereotypical couch with a padded chair next to it, I guess where he sat across from his patients, I chose one of the more uncomfortable chairs sitting in front of his desk.

“So, what brings you by today?” Dr. Rothstein asked, folding his hands on top of a stack of patient files. “You didn’t call ahead. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay, but something happened between me and Kat and I thought you should know,” I said, and then hesitated a second. “We... uhh, we kissed.”

“I know. Kat called me earlier today to tell me. Apparently, you told her you wouldn’t go any further until after you both talked to me and got the go-ahead.”

“I thought it was for the best,” I said. “I think we’re okay, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t causing any damage or anything. Based on what we talked about the last time I was here.”

“Let me hear it from your side. Walk me through what happened.”

“It was on the last night of the trials. She’d done really well and managed to make the Olympic team in every event she entered, so we went out to celebrate. Hanna had … I don’t know what was going on with her, but she wanted to call it a night early, so it was just me and Kat. We got back to the hotel after having dinner and just walking around the city, and didn’t want to call it a night, so we headed back to my room to talk some more. We were just talking about stuff, like always, and she told me she loved me.”

I paused to see if he was going to say anything, but he just sat there, a neutral expression on his face.

“Anyway, I wasn’t surprised. I’ve known that she has feelings for me, but … things have been different lately. Anyway, I realized I felt the same way. We were sitting close and just kind of … kissed. We fell asleep in my room together, but nothing beyond that happened.”

“Have the two of you talked about this development since then?”

“We really haven’t had time. Hanna was with us on the drive home, and then there was a welcome home party. When we did have a moment was when I told her I thought we both should talk to you first, before we went any further. She was pissed and went to bed then and was gone this morning when I was up.”

“When you say things have been different lately, what do you feel has changed?”

“Lately, Kat’s been standing up to me more, disagreeing with me, saying no. And it wasn’t just to show she was disagreeing with me or an exercise in standing on her own or anything. We’ve had some real arguments about stuff we really disagreed on. Afterward, she didn’t have any panic attacks, she didn’t get upset. If anything, she mostly just stayed annoyed that I wasn’t listening to her. That, along with how she expressed herself this time, I really felt like this wasn’t her condition talking. That’s progress, right?”

“Yes, that’s definitely progress,” he said. “I’m glad you were thinking of her well-being by wanting to hold off on anything further until we could discuss it. Even in the heat of the moment, you showed maturity and that you care for her. I should tell you that Kat told me she’d planned on telling you her intentions before you left on your trip. While I have been happy to see her making progress, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t thrilled with her plan and had recommended against it.”

I shifted in my seat, discouraged.

“Don’t get me wrong, the progress Kat has made is remarkable,” Dr. Rothstein continued. “But a full recovery from her condition typically takes much longer. I believe she is trying to convince both you and herself that she is further along than she may actually be; perhaps out of an eagerness to have this relationship.”

“Honestly, I do have some reservations,” he said, steepling his fingers together on top of the desk. “While Kat has come incredibly far, this is an extremely rapid progression given the severity of her prior trauma. My concern is that she may be glossing over lingering issues in her haste to obtain something she wants deeply.”

I nodded, seeing his point. As much as I wanted to be with Kat, I didn’t want to risk hurting her recovery.

“However,” Dr. Rothstein went on. “I’m not saying you two exploring a relationship is something out of the question. If, that is, it’s taken very slowly and with care. She has advanced to a point where I believe she can healthily manage the new complexities this would bring, and possibly even benefit from being pushed into an area that was, before, a refuge from her anxiety. That being said, you would need to remain vigilant for any signs of her reverting to overly acquiescent behavior or failing to stand up for herself with you. I understand that’s a tall order to place on a teenager, and I wouldn’t normally advocate for this approach. Not that I doubt your ability, but because I’m not sure anynon-professional should be put in charge of managing someone else’s condition.”

With every sentence, I bounced back and forth between thinking he was saying we could go for it and telling me I shouldn’t. At this point, I wasn’t even sure what he was recommending.

“Kat has made it abundantly clear that she is going to do this one way or another. Any attempt on my part to deter her from pursuing this relationship would likely result in her halting treatment altogether.”

That did sound like Kat, or at least the real Kat I was getting to know as she slowly shed away her anxiety. She could be very stubborn, and once she set her sights on something, she’d burn down anything that got in her way.

Dr. Rothstein gave me a wry half-smile and said, “In some ways, her willingness to defy me over this matter also demonstrates meaningful growth. However, I do have concerns about the impact on her ongoing therapy and recovery. It’s a delicate line we’d be walking.”

“I’m not sure what you’re saying. Should I tell her okay, we can date, or should I tell her no?”

“I’m not going to tell you what choice to make, since that’s up to you. What I’m saying is that I don’t believe it will directly stop or reverse her recovery. It will make it more challenging, to be sure; but I think, given where she is now, it will only alter how we approach it from now on.”

“Okay,” I said, actually breathing out a sigh of relief.

While I might have put a brake on things, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I really did want to date Kat.

“I do want to offer a word of caution. Just because she’s doing better doesn’t mean she’s cured. She’s going to have anxiety attacks and will need support, and you need to be careful to only offer support, while not offering her a chance to slide back into old habits. It’s going to require patience, communication, and putting Kat’s wellbeing first … even over what either of you may want for yourselves in the moment.”

“I can handle that,” I said.

“Good. Additionally, if you do see her backsliding, I want you to tell me. Not if she’s having anxiety, but if she’s requiring you to take on her decision-making and responsibility in order to deal with that anxiety.”

“I can do that,” I said. “Thanks, Dr. Rothstein. I know this is going to be a challenge, but … I’ll be honest, I’d hoped you would say it’s okay.”

“Kat didn’t leave me much choice,” he said. “How are you doing? Kat told me about all of the stuff that happened with your parents and everything else. It hasn’t been that long since their deaths. How are you handling it?”

I paused halfway out of my chair, surprised by the question.

My first instinct was to just say I was fine, but then I heard myself say, “Honestly? I’m angry. I know that probably sounds bad, but it’s the truth. I’m angry at my dad for … for obvious reasons, I guess. But I’m also angry at my mom for letting things with my dad get as far as they did. I’m angry at Sydney for leaving me the way she did. I’m angry at Aaron’s dad for using my parents’ deaths in his campaign to get revenge for … I don’t even know what. I’m angry at the label for dropping me, and I’m angry at the legal system for dragging things out so long. I’m angry at all the adults who knew what was going on but didn’t do anything to stop it.”

I took a breath, but now that I’d started, it was like floodgates had opened, and I couldn’t stop.

“I’m not saying I’m angry at the whole world. I get that most of this wasn’t really about me. My dad was a broken man and an alcoholic. My mom suffered from years of abuse and had her own issues from that, which she couldn’t get past. The label’s only real job is to care about its bottom line, and I knew that going in. I can see why they’d think I was a problem for them financially. I understand why Sydney broke up with me, even if I think her dad shouldn’t have gotten involved like he did. Hell, I even understand that Aaron’s dad’s hatred and campaign against me probably had more to do with his own screwed-up family than it did with me in particular.”

Shrugging, I added, “I guess I’m saying I understand why all this happened on some level. Mostly, I’m trying to keep it from making me bitter. I can’t control what everyone did or didn’t do. All I can control is how I deal with the aftermath. Sitting down and sulking is just letting them win, you know?”

“That’s actually a very mature outlook, Charlie,” Dr. Rothstein said, nodding thoughtfully. “Understanding the reasons behind other people’s actions can help prevent lasting anger and resentment. However, just because you rationally understand the causes doesn’t mean you aren’t still affected emotionally by the aftereffects of grief and anger. It’s important not to ignore those feelings or bottle them up in an attempt to take the high road.”

“I’ve been blowing off steam training with Chef,” I said.

He knew about my training with Chef, who’d been the person who’d introduced us in the first place.

“Physical activity is good for working through emotions,” Dr. Rothstein said. “But have you considered any other direct outlets for your anger surrounding your parents? Anything to help you process those feelings?”

“Like what?”

“Like talking to your mother, even if just out loud when you’re alone. Or visiting her grave to say what you need to say. She’s no longer here physically, but that doesn’t mean you have to forget her or can’t still express your feelings to her.”

“I never really considered that.”

“It’s just a thought,” Dr. Rothstein said gently. “Everyone grieves differently. But keeping emotions bottled up rarely ends well. If the physical outlet isn’t enough, I’d encourage you to try vocalizing your feelings, whether to your mother or someone else you trust. Putting feelings into words can help them feel more manageable.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, standing up. “Anyway, thanks for taking the time to talk about Kat. I know this is outside your normal appointments with her.”

“Of course,” Dr. Rothstein said, coming around the desk to shake my hand. “Just remember what we discussed. Move slowly, have open communication, and keep Kat’s continued progress the priority.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

***

Kat had been thrilled to hear we’d been given tacit approval to date by Dr. Rothstein, and we’d planned our first real date for Sunday afternoon, since I had a show Saturday night on the south side of Asheville. Although we’d been touching a little more whenever we saw each other, everything else had been more or less the same between us, which came as a shock to me. We weren’t all over each other, or really even acting all that differently.

I’d wondered, once the reality of the situation set in on the drive home from talking to Dr. Rothstein, what this was going to be like. While it’s not uncommon for friends to start dating, most of them don’t live together. I’d half thought we might jump each other the moment we had a quiet night, but that didn’t happen. I was kind of nervous that first night home, unsure of how to handle things; but she just acted normally, so I took my cue from her.

Of course, the fact that Mrs. Philips was usually around also did a good job of putting the kibosh on anything more than hand holding and the occasional stolen kiss.

Kat, however, was back out at practice and Mrs. Philips was out showing houses one town over … so I was home by myself. Since it was several hours until band practice, I was once again plugging away on “Ashes and Sand.” I was still mulling over what I wanted this song to really be about. So far, the first half had all focused on my parents’ mistakes, comparing them, and really going hard at my father. I’d been thinking maybe I should soften it up, go back and rework the earlier verses, but after talking to Dr. Rothstein, I decided to keep them as they were. It was cathartic, talking about the past and the damage he’d done when I was a kid. I knew I wasn’t the only one who grew up in a situation like that.

There are lots of songs looking back at childhood almost wistfully, wishing for those simpler days and remembering them fondly. Songs about tire swings and playing catch. That wasn’t my experience, and it wasn’t the experience of a lot of other people’s childhoods. I hoped that, beyond just finding some release in writing this, it might work to help them find some kind of solace in their past too. I’d been scribbling a series of lines, working out verse three, trying to transition from remembering what he’d done to learning to let go of it, which would be the focus of the second half of the song.

His voice was thunder, hers sweet melody,

Together they shaped what came to be me.

The past can’t be changed, questions I’ll never understand,

I have to let it go, become my own man.

I didn’t have the music, although I knew I wanted to shift the key before getting to verse three and four. They would mirror verses one and two, but with different words. They were flip sides of my life. What led me to that awful night, and then what I wanted to become after it, without letting it define who I’m going to be.

I’d just picked up my guitar to start trying some ideas when my phone rang.

“Hey,” I said, picking up after seeing Warren’s name on the screen. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in to see if you guys are all set for the gig tomorrow night,” Warren said.

“Yeah, I think we’ve got it covered,” I replied. “We’ve pretty much finalized the set list at this point. It should be a good show.”

“Good, good. While you’re there, make sure you remember to talk to the owner about potentially booking shows later this year.”

“Yeah, I was planning on finding him and asking about it after we get off stage, assuming we have a good set. I’ll be honest though, considering how things went with Eugene, I’m not hopeful. I have a good relationship with him, and he dodged me. I’ve only met this guy once, and he talked to Willie the whole time.”

“I know,” Warren said sympathetically. “But you still have to try. Just like pretty much everything else, this is a numbers game. The more shots you take, the more yesses you get. And you don’t get any if you don’t take a shot.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’m not trying to lecture you. I know you’ve got it under control. Actually, the real reason I called is to let you know I’m moving to Wellsville temporarily, to be closer to you guys while we work through this cancellation issue.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, Wellsville is pretty far from the center of everything.”

“I know, but I want to be nearby in case you need me for anything. This cancellation thing has me concerned, and I think being nearby will help. I won’t make it for the show tomorrow, but I should be there for your third gig next weekend.”

“Well, I appreciate it. I know it’s going to be a change, moving to somewhere so much slower-paced. Hopefully, you’ll have better luck with the club owners than I have when we’re all face to face,” I said, and then hesitated for a second, unsure if I wanted to say what was really on my mind. “You know, if I’m being honest, I think MAC is behind all of these problems lately. I know you worked with them and had a relationship with people over there, and I don’t want to put you in a weird situation, but I think they’ve been getting our gigs canceled. It’s too organized to just be random people getting worried or whatever. Someone specific is orchestrating this, and MAC is the only one that makes sense.”

“I considered it,” Warren said. “I’ve even talked to a few people over there that I know, very unofficially, but no one is saying anything, and I can’t make accusations without proof.”

“I know, I just thought if we made plans based on that assumption, and it turns out to be true, maybe we can get around them somehow.”

“I’ll think about it, although if they are getting our shows canceled, I’m not sure what we can do about it, short of flying you out to the West Coast for shows out there. I don’t have the contacts on that side of the country, but MAC is pretty regional and doesn’t have the muscle to interfere. That would only help us for a month or so before you have to go back to school, and the costs would be high, since you can’t make short hops, which means it would only work financially if you played bigger venues. Which I’m not sure we could pull off, at least not where your career is now.”

“Yeah,” I said.

I’d actually looked at the possibility of trying something further out, maybe in the Midwest, but even that required costs that made playing only small clubs break even at best. I’d done okay last year, but I was still a regional name, at best, and needed something to break me out of that if I wanted to expand off the East Coast.

“I do have some good news though,” Warren said. “I was able to set up a meeting for Wednesday with a small distribution company called Coastal Records. They mainly do distribution and don’t sign artists of their own, but it’s better than nothing. It would mean getting your album back out there. And they have national digital distribution as well as some regional retail, so that will help.”

“Seriously? That’s great!” I said, sitting up straighter at the news.

Ever since getting cut by MAC, we’d basically been in limbo. I’d gotten the rights to the songs and the album back, along with the masters, but without a distribution deal, it didn’t really mean anything.

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Warren cautioned. “It’s just a meeting, and they’re a pretty small operation, and I’m not sure how much retail exposure they’ll be able to get us. The smaller labels use guys like this, setting up dozens of deals across the country, to get distribution, since they don’t have the power of the national labels. They probably will only be able to get us distribution in a few states at the very most.”

“Yeah, of course,” I said, trying not to let my hopes get too high, “but just getting out there, in front of someone new, is a good step. Digital distribution would definitely help. I mean, that’s mostly what we got from MAC, anyway. We had hardly any physical sales, outside of those we got ourselves at shows. When’s the meeting?”

“It’s at 2pm on Wednesday in Richmond,” he said, giving me the address. “I know it’s a bit of a drive, but I think you should be there. I won’t have moved to Asheville yet, so you’ll have to meet me there.”

“Yeah, for sure. No problem, I’ll be there,” I assured him.

“Great. Okay, I’m going to get going, and I’ll keep looking into the MAC thing, see if we can’t get some kind of proof that they’re the ones getting us shut down. Other than that, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Awesome. Thanks so much, Warren. See you there.”

I hung up and slumped back on the couch. Finally, some good news.