Chuckling, she circumvented a pile of boxes to make her way to her kitchen. “All right, guilt trip received. I’m scared and lonely, but I feel okay physically and emotionally. Don’t worry, I have a virtual appointment with my therapist in a few hours. Ralphie, I’m excited to rediscover who Michaela Hudson is and what makes her happy.” She grabbed the teakettle and moved to the sink, where a large window revealed the view of her picturesque backyard and Vermont’s mountains in the distance. Just one glance had a sense of peace settling over her.
“Well, she is fabulous, and you will love her.”
Her heart clenched. God, she hoped so. She sure couldn’t hate herself more than she did seven months ago at the lowest point in her life, lying in a hospital bed after having a heart attack at the age of twenty-eight. “Thank you, Ralph. Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Of course. Anything. I can draw pictures for you if you need visuals.”
She chuckled. Talking to Ralph always boosted her mood. Without their weekly chats, she wouldn’t have survived six grueling months of drug rehab and intense therapy. After evaluation, the director of the program recommended three months for her. She’d decided on her own she needed more and doubled her stay. The extra months of introspection and healing had served her well. “On a scale of one to ten, how much of a judgmental bitch am I?”
Ralph’s laughter had her rolling her eyes. After about thirty seconds of listening to him cackle, she’d had enough.
“I’m glad you find my insecurities so entertaining, but could you maybe stop laughing at me for one minute?”
“Oh, honey, no I don’t think I can. You are too funny.”
“I’m going to hang up,” she said as she set the full tea kettle on the stove.
“No, no, no don’t. I’m done. Okay.” He took a deep breath, which had her rolling her eyes again, but her lips quirked. “Okay, I’m ready to be serious. You, Michaela Hudson, are neither judgmental nor a bitch. Not one single morsel of either. And you know me, I’d tell you.”
A rabbit hopped across the grassy backyard. Nothing special; a simple act of nature that probably happened a dozen times per day, but it was something she wouldn’t have noticed before.
That was how she’d begun thinking about her life, in terms of before and after the spectacular public meltdown that ruined her reputation and woke her up to the reality of her dangerous downward spiral.
For the past ten years, her life had been go, go, go. She’d always been striving for more, bigger, better. There was never any downtime to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. Even if she had noticed something like the small rabbit hopping through her yard she’d wouldn’t have cared enough to stop and watch. Her mind had been filled with selfish nonsense and frivolity. Now, sober, jobless, and on the other side of addiction, she wanted to appreciate everything life had to offer, from the mundane to the small wonders to the grand surprises.
“I’m pretty sure most of the world disagrees with you,” she said to Ralph as she scanned the backyard for more gifts from nature.
“Sweetie, what’s bringing this on?”
“I got a flat tire on the way into town. When roadside assistance showed up, I panicked a little.”
“Did he say something to make you uncomfortable? Was he inappropriate?” No one would believe the fun, flirty, and playful Ralph had a protective lion buried in him, but he sure as hell did. His tone grew fierce. The mechanic from the night before could have snapped Ralph in half like a toothpick, but that wouldn’t have kept Ralph from defending her honor should she have needed it. A girl couldn’t ask for a better friend in her corner.
“No! Nothing like that at all. I just, well, I didn’t know how to talk to him, so I think I was a little short and unfriendly which made him act all prickly. It was completely my fault. I’m all up in my head and afraid of being perceived as I was before.” She sighed as her genuine fears began tumbling out of her mouth. “Somewhere along the way to becoming Scarlett, I completely lost Michaela. I feel like I’ve been acting so long, even in my personal life, I don’t know how to be around normal people anymore. People who aren’t trying to kiss my ass. People who aren’t trying to use my name to advance their social status. People who think I’m just Michaela. I had no idea how to talk to the man because I have no idea who I am. He interpreted my standoffishness as me judging him for his casual appearance and job. I believe he called me a ‘rich prude who cringes at the sight of a little ink and grease.’”