Picking up the pieces, and Cleaning up the Mess
(continued from here
Lindsey wasn't saying anything. In fact he was hardly moving at all, and I began to worry that he'd drawn into himself so much that he was never going to come back out again.
Then he gave a long shuddering sigh and uncurled himself, pulling me closer, wrapping his strapping arms around me so tightly that for a few moments I tensed up, unsure as to what he was trying to do. Then I realised he was clinging to me, wanting me to hold him, to soothe him. I slowly relaxed my rigid muscles and brought my hands up to gently stroke his back.
He shivered under my touch, and buried his face in my neck. He was still holding me in a death grip, as if afraid I would pull away from him or become insubstantial in some way.
Lindsey kept muttering that he was sorry, like it was a mantra. He had a lot to be sorry about, but he wasn't the only one...
"I feel broken. Can you fix me?"
What was I supposed to say to that? I wasn't a psychiatrist, I didn't have the first clue as to help with this kind of meltdown, this plea for...salvation or absolution of some kind. I was the lsat person qualifed to offer him that.
"We're all broken, Lindsey. Every human being that walks the planet is broken in some way." I brought my fingers up to smooth his brow, to trace the contours of his cheek and jawline. "All of us waiting to be fixed, and comforted, and told that everything is gonna be okay. But it's never going to happen, because the world is a shitty and cruel place to live in. I don't know if I can fix myself let alone try and piece you back together again..."
We lay there for a long time, perhaps an hour. I still hadn't made the call to get the artifact, but I was loathe to just leave Lindsey on the bed, not when he so obviously needed me to be close.
"You feeling better?" I asked tentatively after a while. "Aside from the gaping hole in your foot, of course. And I'm sorry I did that. If I could take it back I would."
(open to Lindsey)
Lindsey wasn't saying anything. In fact he was hardly moving at all, and I began to worry that he'd drawn into himself so much that he was never going to come back out again.
Then he gave a long shuddering sigh and uncurled himself, pulling me closer, wrapping his strapping arms around me so tightly that for a few moments I tensed up, unsure as to what he was trying to do. Then I realised he was clinging to me, wanting me to hold him, to soothe him. I slowly relaxed my rigid muscles and brought my hands up to gently stroke his back.
He shivered under my touch, and buried his face in my neck. He was still holding me in a death grip, as if afraid I would pull away from him or become insubstantial in some way.
Lindsey kept muttering that he was sorry, like it was a mantra. He had a lot to be sorry about, but he wasn't the only one...
"I feel broken. Can you fix me?"
What was I supposed to say to that? I wasn't a psychiatrist, I didn't have the first clue as to help with this kind of meltdown, this plea for...salvation or absolution of some kind. I was the lsat person qualifed to offer him that.
"We're all broken, Lindsey. Every human being that walks the planet is broken in some way." I brought my fingers up to smooth his brow, to trace the contours of his cheek and jawline. "All of us waiting to be fixed, and comforted, and told that everything is gonna be okay. But it's never going to happen, because the world is a shitty and cruel place to live in. I don't know if I can fix myself let alone try and piece you back together again..."
We lay there for a long time, perhaps an hour. I still hadn't made the call to get the artifact, but I was loathe to just leave Lindsey on the bed, not when he so obviously needed me to be close.
"You feeling better?" I asked tentatively after a while. "Aside from the gaping hole in your foot, of course. And I'm sorry I did that. If I could take it back I would."
(open to Lindsey)