Best of 2017

AS MY SESSIONS with Dr. Beckett come and go, the weather turns from sweltering to brisk days. Orange and red bleed from the leaves and the air is crisp with fall fragrances. The weeks have turned into months. We talk about everything. Well, everything except Preston Montgomery. He’s one topic I won’t breach. I keep our time together tucked firmly in my own heart and memory.

Right now the focus is on me. I’m working on forgiving Mom and Richard for lying to me. Richard’s omission of the truth has been easier for me to move past. He was in an unimaginable situation and made the only choice he thought he could. It’s taken me a long time to forgive Mom, and an even longer time to forgive my dad.

Day by day and week by week, I get closer to forgiveness. Like Preston said, I’d never understand the pressure he was under. But little by little I move past the anger and open my heart to love.

Today is a day to move forward.

“Mom, are you decent? Are you dressed?” I say as I knock on the door.

“Yes.”

“I have someone here to talk to us. Can we come in?”

“Um,” she mumbles through the door. I crack it open a little. “I’m a little dizzy.”

“I know, Mom, but it will be fast. She just wants to talk to you. We want to talk to you together. Dr. Beckett thinks it will be good for us. I think so too. We can no longer let our future be dictated by our fear of the past. We need to move forward.”

“Okay,” she croaks out.

Dr. Beckett and I walk through the door and into the room. Mom is sitting on the bed. I had called previously and warned her that she should be dressed today. I’m happy to see she is in lounge pants and T-shirt. She’s even wearing a light dusting of makeup. She’s trying, and that thought makes tears fill my eyes.

We sit in the chairs situated along the window inside her room. She stays where she is. Dr. Beckett begins, and then we let my mom talk. For the first time in as long as I can remember, she tells me what it was like to be married to Dad. I sit with welled eyes as she relates stories she never shared before. Tears pour down my face at the idea that they were once in love. That my mom was once more then she is. It’s almost too much to take in, but as I do, something strange happens. I find myself laughing, smiling and forgiving.

When Dr. Becket asks me if I have anything to say, I do.

“Mom, it’s time you forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault. Every year that passes, a bigger part of you dies. Your guilt has eaten away at you. It has to stop. Every day that we have is a gift. You need to keep living for Dad. You need to live for yourself. And for me. I need you to be my mother. I need to know you’re there.” She nods and we sit in silence. Eventually, I take her hand in mine and ask her softly if she can tell me how she met my father and she does.

The stories encompass topics of all types, from hobbies they had to all the places they traveled. After the moisture on my face evaporates, it makes me happy to think of a better time. Hearing her stories reminds me a little of Preston. He’s the reason this is happening right now. He was the catalyst for me doing this. In order to go to him in the future, I need to heal my past. This is the first step—my mom and I forgiving ourselves. This won’t be an overnight success. It’ll take time before she can talk again about what happened that night. But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to wait.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

EVE

TEN MONTHS LATER . . .

Stepping inside Paradise Diner, I prepare for the impending assault of memories. They wash over me like a tidal wave but I embrace them. Losing Richard. Meeting Preston . . . walking away, and then gaining my strength, it all led me here to this moment. Having spent the past ten months focusing on myself, I’m finally ready to face my fears . . . to face him. Every week that I’ve seen Dr. Beckett, I’ve grown stronger, and today I’m ready to confront the man I had to walk away from. I’ve come here with a purpose. It’s not by accident I’m here at the very place I know he frequents. We have unfinished business that I intend to resolve. Perhaps it isn’t fair that I’m ambushing him, but I need him to look at me and see that I’m better.

As I wait, I peer toward the window and watch as people pass by. A young couple walks hand in hand, and my heart swells at the sight. Months ago seeing this might have hurt me, but not now. I’m ready for what they have.

To live. To breath. To love.

My lips part into a smile as I watch them fade into the horizon, a sigh escaping my mouth. The chime above the door rings and pulls me out of my thoughts. I don’t have to look to know who’s walked in. The air has shifted around me.

I’ve imagined this moment so many times. Replayed how I would respond to seeing him again, but as often as I fantasized about this moment, I’m finding myself ill prepared for the emotions coursing through me.

My eyes find him. God, he looks gorgeous. As if no time has passed. His shoulders are pulled back and he’s wearing a blue hoodie and jeans. I love him like this. I’m reminded of our trip together. The weekend I began to fall in love with him. A stolen moment where we were able to live in our bubble and just enjoy each other with no consequences.

I want to run to him.

I want to jump into his arms.

Kiss him madly.

Never let him go.

I hold back the tears of joy that threaten to fall from my eyes.

He walks towards me, but hasn’t yet seen me. The closer he gets, the more I have to secure myself to the seat as to not make a fool of myself.

Patience. You’ve waited this long.

He twists his body speaking to someone behind him. As he turns back around, I get a peek at who he’s talking to and my heart stops. All of the oxygen leaves my body and an all-encompassing sadness slithers its way inside me.

He’s not alone.

She’s tall and lithe. Long brown hair cascades down her back in waves.

She’s beautiful.

The woman says something which causes Preston to throw his head back and laugh in joyous abandon.

He’s happy.

Familiar ghosts are gnawing at me, the panic that wants to overtake my body consuming. It claws at me. Wanting desperately to take over and pull me into its wicked trance. I almost fall prey, but I’ve come too far.

Instead I straighten my back and stand taller.

You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re better.

She mouths something to him then places her hand lovingly on his forearm, leaning up on tiptoes to place a tender kiss on his cheek . . . every last piece of me dies.

I’m too late. He’s moved on.

Everything in me says get the hell out of here, but I’m too late. Before I can make my escape, our gaze locks. Preston’s dark eyes go wide, his pupils takin

g up the entire circumference. Every muscle in his body seems to tense.

Inhale. One. Two. Three.

Exhale. One. Two. Three.

Through my breathing, memories of everything I’ve learned since I met Preston flood my mind. My journey to forgiveness, overcoming my fears about life and myself. I will not falter. I will square my shoulders and hold my head high. I will remember to be strong, and not to let the sadness take over.

At least not here . . . not where he can see me fall.

He steps toward me.

“Eve?” he says confused. Like he’s trying to gauge whether it’s really me he’s seeing. I close the distance between us, standing in front of them, my teeth gnawing viciously at inside of my cheek.

“Hello, Preston.” I turn my head toward the brunette, smiling wide despite the very real need to cry.

“Oh. Um, this is Heather. Heather this is Eve Hamilton,” he stutters. The awkwardness of the situation only grows worse with his obvious discomfort. I extend my hand, hoping to alleviate the tension.

“Nice to meet you, Heather.”

“Nice to meet you too, Eve.” She smiles warmly at me.

She’s sweet.

“We were just grabbing breakfast,” he offers lamely. Heather moves closer to him. The way she’s staring at him makes every muscle in my body feel as if it’s being pulled tight.

She’s in love with him.

“Are you coming or going?” Preston asks, pulling me out of my haze.

“Going.” I step aside. “I’m going.” He nods and opens his mouth to speak but stops himself.

“Ready to sit, Preston?” Her hand rubs up his arm. She’s touching him, her hands are on him—I am barely masking the pain this is causing. Desperate to leave, I nod and begin to slowly retreat.

I have to go.

As strong as I am now, this is too much. Seeing him here. Seeing her with him is too much. I need to be alone. I need to feel this pain.