Warmth in Ice
Page 2

I didn’t miss the underlying meaning. The less stress, the less likely I’d go off the rails and flip the f**k out.
I felt my jaw stiffen at the implied judgment. I hated any reminder of how much I had messed up in my life. Now, how at nineteen years old, I was a guy who should be going to college, partying, loving my girlfriend without a care in the world. Instead here I was just outside of Orlando in a crappy neighborhood, moving into a group home for people with a severe mental health diagnosis who had just been released from in-patient treatment.
My entire world had to be focused on being better. But those pesky feelings of resentment and bitterness acted like the chick you dumped that just wouldn’t go away. You keep telling her she doesn’t have a place in your life anymore but she tries to convince you that you belong together.
“It’s cute, Clay,” Ruby said excitedly, dropping the rest of the bags onto the counter. I looked around, having not bothered to notice anything about the place that would be my home.
Roberta dropped her purse on the coffee table in the common living room. It was a large space with an open floor plan. The living room bled into the kitchen and there were huge windows that let in light in every direction. Who ever had been tasked with decorating had taken their job seriously.
I was surprised at how nice it was. There was a sectional sofa as well as a recliner in front of an entertainment center complete with flat screen television and I could see an Xbox on the floor. Nice to see how taxpayers’ money was being spent, I supposed.
A young guy came in from a door off the kitchen carrying two bags of groceries. Another guy who looked about my age followed him.
“Just put those over there, Oscar,” the first man instructed, pointing to the counter.
“Jason, Oscar, come over here please,” Roberta said in a way that said don’t give me a reason to slap you. I wasn’t sure who was who but both guys looked up. Though only one smiled in greeting. The other one looked at the ground almost immediately after making eye contact. Something told me that was a roommate.
The less socially awkward guy came over and held out his hand to me. “Hi, I’m Jason Frank. I’m a behavioral aide here at Rose Heights.” I shook his hand before he turned to shake Ruby’s hand.
“This is Oscar Martin. He’s a resident as well. Come on over here, Oscar,” Jason urged kindly as though talking to a Kindergartner.
Oscar shuffled forward but finally looked up and gave Ruby and me a timid smile. “Hi, I’m Oscar,” he said, stating the obvious. I blinked in surprise. His voice was totally at odds with his appearance. He sounded like a gruff, scary biker dude when in reality he looked more like Dwight from The Office.
“There are four of you living here. Ryan and Kyle are at school but you’ll get to meet them later tonight for the house meeting. Greg is the other behavioral aide that you’ll see around. His shift is tonight,” Jason informed me. I nodded, trying not to look as f**king overwhelmed as I currently felt.
Roberta made a clucking noise before interrupting. “Okay, well thank you Jason. I’ll show Clay and his aunt around now,” she said curtly. Jason didn’t seem perturbed by her brusqueness.
“Happy to have you here,” Jason said before returning to the kitchen with Oscar to unload the groceries.
“Let me show you the rest of the house,” Roberta said, heading toward the stairs. I glanced at Ruby, who was chewing on her lip again. We followed our less than enthusiastic tour guide as she showed me my room.
I was at least happy with the size of it. The bedroom was more like two rooms combined. There was a space with a bed and a dresser and then a side room with a sofa and desk. There was a door off to the side that led to a bathroom I would apparently be sharing with another of my roommates.
While Ruby and I were looking around, my other roommates showed up. I heard Jason call out a greeting but there was no response. Roberta, Ruby, and I were leaving my new bedroom when we passed by two guys, again about my age, with their heads down and heading toward the only other door on this floor.
“Ryan, Kyle, come over here and meet Clay,” Roberta called out. Ryan and Kyle didn’t look up, nor did they come over as they were requested. Almost simultaneously they lifted their hands in greeting and then went inside the room at the end of the hallway, closing the door behind them.
Roberta made a frustrated grunt but didn’t comment on my less than sociable housemates.
Ruby gave me a worried look and I knew she was debating whether she could bundle me up and put me back in the car so she could take me to Key West with her.
I gave my aunt a one armed hug, trying to reassure her. Though if I were honest, I needed reassuring as much as she did. This was not what I would call an ideal living situation. And I would be expected to endure it for a long ass time.
We started to head back downstairs and I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. And just like that the heavy weight in my chest lessened just a bit, because there was only one person who could be calling me. It’s not as though I had a lot of friends; at least not those out mingling with the general population.
Only one person would call me just when I needed her most.
Maggie Young.
The beginning and ending of my entire f**king world.
Before I could pull my phone out to see her name dance across the screen, Roberta handed me a sheet of paper. I looked down, seeing a crap load of words.
“These are the group home rules and guidelines. The staff here at Rose Heights works closely with the Grayson Center to ensure you achieve a successful acclimation. Coming out of treatment is tough. We’re here to support you as you move from one environment to the next. I’ve spoken at length with Dr. Todd Trimble about your outpatient plan,” Roberta explained and I nodded.