muffled deep voice answered, “I have, but it didn’t work out.”
I was not equipped to handle this call properly, but I kept on. “It’ll take time to change something that you’re used to, and I’m glad to hear you’re trying. That’s a start.”
“But Susan, trying may not be enough…”
The despair in his voice made me want to reach out to him more.
“One step at a time,” I said.
“One step at a time,” the Caller echoed.
“Exactly,” I said. Then I took the plunge. He needed someone to keep him accountable. From what he was saying, I was the only one who knew about his dark secret. “Have you tried going to a support group for this?” I recalled reading through my notes on sexual addiction a couple of nights before.
There was big sigh, and he said, “I can’t. I can’t let anyone know. I’ve worked too damn hard to get to where I am today to have it aired out publicly like that. I don’t do group therapy.”
I was right about my lost boy caller. I was his only bet to becoming whole, to kick his addiction. I was in way over my head, but deep down inside, I felt I needed to be there for him, to save him. Something about him made me feel as though I knew him, that it could be me in that situation, that we both had a sense of loss in us, the sense that we weren’t good enough to be here, and we had to keep proving our worth. “Promise me you’ll try, in your newest relationship.”
“I promise, Susan,” the voice said. “If I can get over this, maybe she would have me.”
I took a deep breath and said softly, leaning forward, “I need you to succeed…ah…”
“Daggers,” the voice said gently.
“Daggers,” I repeated, feeling the sharp sounds of the word cut into my tongue. I swallowed. “For my sake, as well as yours, I need you to succeed, I want you to. If you fail, Daggers, it means I fail…so succeed for me.”
There was silence at the other end of the line for a short moment, and I thought he may have hung up. Then I heard a soft sob come from the other end of the phone line. “I’m sorry,” he said in a strangled voice. “I just didn’t expect that. No one’s ever shown me that much care before. You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t have to in order to know you’re hurting,” I said. “Something about you made me want to help you very much. I wished at this very moment that I could at least give you a hug.”
“Ah, Susan,” Daggers said. “You’re an angel, you know. I don’t care how you look or how old you are or if you are hunchbacked and hideous, you have the soul of an angel, and that’s all I see when I hear your voice.”
“Promise if you need support and encouragement, you’ll call us here again.”
“I will,” Daggers said, “as long as it’s from you, Susan.”
“Anytime,” I said. I felt as though I had been there for Daggers tonight. He seemed desperate to talk to someone, anyone. And I was in the mood to get lost in someone else’s problems. Daggers’ personal story had helped me forget about my own for a while.
Little did I realize, every day when I showed up at Sawyer House, Daggers would call, and we would talk for hours about everything – movies, politics, news, books, how he was doing with his addiction. Without revealing who I was, I would tell him about school, my sister’s projects from school, what I was learning at Sawyer House, how I wanted to be a counselor, how I wanted to get a scholarship to Stanford, my dreams, my beliefs, how I wanted to someday soon move out of my parents’ place and live with Nydia and raise her myself if my mother did not stop drinking.
I knew I kept Daggers occupied and distracted from thoughts of his deeply troubled past. But in so many ways, I was beginning to feel more relaxed about my own problems, having Daggers listen attentively while I talked. While trying to help Daggers over a period of a week, I realized he was the one helping me.
Chapter
I was not equipped to handle this call properly, but I kept on. “It’ll take time to change something that you’re used to, and I’m glad to hear you’re trying. That’s a start.”
“But Susan, trying may not be enough…”
The despair in his voice made me want to reach out to him more.
“One step at a time,” I said.
“One step at a time,” the Caller echoed.
“Exactly,” I said. Then I took the plunge. He needed someone to keep him accountable. From what he was saying, I was the only one who knew about his dark secret. “Have you tried going to a support group for this?” I recalled reading through my notes on sexual addiction a couple of nights before.
There was big sigh, and he said, “I can’t. I can’t let anyone know. I’ve worked too damn hard to get to where I am today to have it aired out publicly like that. I don’t do group therapy.”
I was right about my lost boy caller. I was his only bet to becoming whole, to kick his addiction. I was in way over my head, but deep down inside, I felt I needed to be there for him, to save him. Something about him made me feel as though I knew him, that it could be me in that situation, that we both had a sense of loss in us, the sense that we weren’t good enough to be here, and we had to keep proving our worth. “Promise me you’ll try, in your newest relationship.”
“I promise, Susan,” the voice said. “If I can get over this, maybe she would have me.”
I took a deep breath and said softly, leaning forward, “I need you to succeed…ah…”
“Daggers,” the voice said gently.
“Daggers,” I repeated, feeling the sharp sounds of the word cut into my tongue. I swallowed. “For my sake, as well as yours, I need you to succeed, I want you to. If you fail, Daggers, it means I fail…so succeed for me.”
There was silence at the other end of the line for a short moment, and I thought he may have hung up. Then I heard a soft sob come from the other end of the phone line. “I’m sorry,” he said in a strangled voice. “I just didn’t expect that. No one’s ever shown me that much care before. You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t have to in order to know you’re hurting,” I said. “Something about you made me want to help you very much. I wished at this very moment that I could at least give you a hug.”
“Ah, Susan,” Daggers said. “You’re an angel, you know. I don’t care how you look or how old you are or if you are hunchbacked and hideous, you have the soul of an angel, and that’s all I see when I hear your voice.”
“Promise if you need support and encouragement, you’ll call us here again.”
“I will,” Daggers said, “as long as it’s from you, Susan.”
“Anytime,” I said. I felt as though I had been there for Daggers tonight. He seemed desperate to talk to someone, anyone. And I was in the mood to get lost in someone else’s problems. Daggers’ personal story had helped me forget about my own for a while.
Little did I realize, every day when I showed up at Sawyer House, Daggers would call, and we would talk for hours about everything – movies, politics, news, books, how he was doing with his addiction. Without revealing who I was, I would tell him about school, my sister’s projects from school, what I was learning at Sawyer House, how I wanted to be a counselor, how I wanted to get a scholarship to Stanford, my dreams, my beliefs, how I wanted to someday soon move out of my parents’ place and live with Nydia and raise her myself if my mother did not stop drinking.
I knew I kept Daggers occupied and distracted from thoughts of his deeply troubled past. But in so many ways, I was beginning to feel more relaxed about my own problems, having Daggers listen attentively while I talked. While trying to help Daggers over a period of a week, I realized he was the one helping me.
Chapter
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