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Clothes litter the hallway downstairs and cover the floor of your bedroom upstairs. A small collection of cups, bowls and silverware blanket the top of your night stand.
It’s definitely been a rough mental health month for you, and Charlie was doing everything in his power to support you from New York City, where he was busy slaving away on one of his productions at the playhouse. He was almost always away when you needed him most.
Your tiny apartment in Paterson, New Jersey felt suffocatingly small, when there was a knock at your door. Looking through the peephole, you nearly jump out of your skin when you see Charlie standing on the other side of the door.
“I thought you were going to be gone for another two weeks!” you shriek with excitement.
Chuckling, Charlie slings his arm around your shoulder, as he kisses the top of your head. “They can manage without me for a while,” a warm smile spreading across his face that you easily reciprocate.
“Thank you, Charlie,” you whisper, unable now to communicate with decent volume. Anxiety wraps around your center, even though your safe haven is here, and then the guilt sets in.
Charlie notices the slight change in your demeanor and quickly leads you to the bedroom. You sit on the edge of the bed, almost looking straight through Charlie, who has crouched in front of you.
“Hey,” he gently places his hand on your thigh, “come back to me, hun.”
Your eyes widen slightly, but there is no sense of you being home. Charlie lets out a soft sigh, as his grip on your thigh tightens ever so slightly.
“Alright,” Charlie looks around the room, trying to find your stuffed bat. He usually brings you comfort. A blue velvety wing is barely poking out from underneath your pillow, Charlie rises to go grab him when you clamp your arms around his thigh. Silently begging him not to leave, “I’m not going anywhere,” he points to your bat, “I’m just grabbing your friend.”
Your grip relaxes, and Charlie grabs your bat friend from the top of the bed. Sitting next to you, he hands you the fuzzy one and you cradle him to your chest.
Charlie puts his arm around your shoulder, “Do you want to try a grounding exercise? Isn’t that what your therapist said to do?”
Numbly, you shrug.
“Hey, we’ll get through this, okay?” he asks carding a free hand through your hair.
Looking at him, your eyes meet and somewhere deep inside there’s this tiny fraction of belief, “okay,” you mumble.
“Okay, where do we start?” Charlie runs a hand through his hair before returning his attention to you, “oh right, what are five things you can see?”
Biting your bottom lip, you feel the velvet softness of your bats wings, “Uhh, my bat,” Charlie nods enthusiastically, “you,” he smiles and kisses the tip of your nose, “my bat,” you survey the room and your eyes settle on your dresser, which holds lots of trinkets and your mass of dishes. Feeling heat creeping into your cheeks, you mumble “my dishes and the perfume bottles I’ve collected.”
“We’ll deal with those,” he gives your shoulders a gentle squeeze, “what are four things you can feel?”
With shaky hands, you run them over your furry little friend, as you stumble over your words, “M-my bat,” Charlie smiles at you reassuringly, “my feet on the carpet, your arm around my shoulders,” you stop for a moment and lean into him, just enjoying his warmth, “my love for you.”
Charlie chuckles softly as he ruffles your hair, “I love you too, now what are three things you can hear?”
“Uhm the sound of your voice?” You pause, straining to hear anything else in your cramped apartment, “the air conditioner, and ..” you put your ear against Charlie’s chest, “your heartbeat.”
“Good. Now what are two things you can smell?”
Sniffing the air, “Your cologne,” you give the air a proper sniff and crinkle your nose, “oh my god, are those my dishes?!”
After trying to hold back a fit of laughter, you elbow your handsome companion in the ribs, “I’d like to see your room after a month of depression Mr. Charlie Barber,” you say with such ferocity that Charlie was taken aback for a moment.
“Hey, hey I’m sorry,” he says raising his hands in defense.
You sigh softly and bury your face in your hands as Charlie reaches an arm around your shoulders, trying desperately to comfort you, “why don’t we finish this grounding exercise and then we can get to cleaning up around here?”
You look at him with slightly wet eyes and nod, you hadn’t lost much ground since starting the exercise. The haunting emptiness inside of you was fading away and you were able to focus for more than a few seconds on any single thing.
Flashing his award winning smile, Charlie squeezes your shoulders as he speaks, “Okay, last one sweetheart. What is one thing you can taste?”
“Uhm,” you cast a glance in his direction, and avert your gaze when you notice him watching you fondly. With one swift movement, you’re now straddling Charlie and kissing him with reckless abandon. When you finally need to come up for air, “you,” is all you say.