The vibe in the house was miserable. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to be there. But I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t leave. Even if it did trigger every self-destructive impulse I had.

“You need to find a hobby, Clay. Or a job. Something,” Shaemus announced as our session was coming to a close. I blinked slowly. Huh?

“I have a hobby. I draw. A lot,” I replied, swearing that if he told me take up macramé I was out of there.

Shaemus rubbed at his greying goatee thoughtfully. I started fixating on his sweater. It was a loud teal and neon green. Who woke up in the morning and thought Today I’m going to wear a sweater that will make everyone that looks at me want to gouge their eyes out?

Just when I was going to ask where he bought his wardrobe because I think I might want one of those sweaters, he snapped his fingers. I waited for him to shout out “Aha!” and the moment would be complete.

“Not drawing. Your art is wonderful but it’s become too tied up in the angsty stuff. I’m talking about something that would force you out of your house and interacting more with other people. You self-isolate entirely too much.”

Oh God, he was going to tell me to sign up to coach little league, wasn’t he? I had a flash of screaming children and I shuddered in revulsion. Interacting with people, in my opinion, was entirely overrated. I shared my assessment with Shaemus, who raised his bushy eyebrows as though I had just proven his point. “That’s exactly why you should do it. You fall into old patterns when things get hard. That’s a natural, human response. But the point of all this is for you to break those patterns. To make yourself bust out of the mold you’ve created. So, that is why you need some sort of activity that keeps your mind active and focused on something positive.” He gave me several brochures on volunteering. Wow, I could spend my free time emptying bed pans as a Candy Striper. What the hell did you call a guy Candy Striper? Shit, it was going to drive me nuts.

Or I could join the litter patrol and get up at six every Saturday morning to walk up and down the road picking up garbage like some sort of chain gang.

Not liking any of those options, I decided on something a bit more productive. And that’s how I found myself, Thursday evening after my therapy session, filling out an application at Bubbles, home of gluttonous banana splits and hamburgers with a side of heart burn.

I had never worked before, unless I could list illegal sales on my job history. But now that my parents had cut me off and Ruby’s shop was floundering, I figured it was time for me to roll up my sleeves and pitch in. And this would get me “interacting.” Mark your calendars folks, Clay Reed was gettin’ a job!

“You’re here to schlep in with the rest of us?” I looked up to see Rachel smiling at me a little warily.

I put down the pen and turned to face her. “I thought you worked at the movie store in town,” I said, indicating her Bubble’s apron. She smoothed down the purple fabric strapped to her front and looked sheepish.

“I do. This is my second job. My car and insurance don’t pay for themselves. Though I really wish they would.” Her lopsided smile was a bit warmer this time. I laughed and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I understand that.” I tapped the pen on the paper, feeling a bit awkward. What did I have to talk about with Rachel Bradfield? Should I start off with Hey! So remember that time I tried to off myself? Good times, right? Yeah, my sense of humor was seriously messed up.

Discomfort aside, I needed the job. And I needed to prove to my therapist that I was capable of mingling in general society. No more playing scary shut in for me.

“Well, cool. I’ll leave you to it. Nice seeing you again.” Rachel’s head bobbed a few times and I watched her with amusement. I was definitely making her uncomfortable. Which I found inappropriately funny. See, messed up sense of humor over here!

Before she got too far away, she turned back around and cocked her head sideways. “You know, I’m glad to see you’re doing okay. You had a lot of people worried about you. Maybe we could all get together sometime, you, Maggie, Daniel and me.” Okay, that was not what I was expecting her to say. Well crap, I had nothing sarcastic or droll to say to that.

“Uh, yeah, that sounds g..good,” I stumbled pathetically over my words. Yep, I had been reduced to stuttering simpleton. I had never exactly been welcomed into the fold before. If you’re looking for the black sheep of Jackson High School, then search no further. Rachel had been nicer than most but it was a barely tolerant politeness. This offer not only surprised the shit out of me but left me feeling almost…included.

“Fabulous. I’ll see you at school.” Rachel went back to her tables and I went back to filling out my application, actually looking forward to having the job.

The manager offered to give me a few shifts to start, just to see how things went. I had been surprised that he gave me the job so quickly, but I didn’t ask him what the hell he ws thinking. My first one would be next week. Now that I had accomplished what I had set out to do, I was left with an entire weekend full of nothingness. And having nothing to do was a big no-no.

I jingled my keys in my hand, debating whether I should head over to Ruby’s shop to check in with Tilly when the sound of an engine keeling over caught my attention.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I watched Maggie pull into the parking lot, smoke billowing out of her tailpipe. Then her car stuttered to a stop, the air ringing with its death knell. Luckily she was able to coast into an empty parking spot. I could hear her cursing from twenty feet away and I couldn’t get rid of the goofy smile on my face as I watched her smack the steering wheel over and over again. An angry Maggie was a tiny bit scary but I was a masochist by nature.