My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

“Thank you,” I say quietly instead. “You’re a good man.”

I limp into rehab, leaning on a cane.

I breathe in the pain, and breathe out the anger. I am a dragon, and my air is fire.

They show me to my room, and it’s nicer than I had wanted, a corner room with a view of gardens. I hadn’t wanted anything fancy. I wanted a cot and a toilet. Leave it my father to ensure my comfort.

I toss my bag into the closet and I flop onto the bed, face-down into the pillows.

I stay this way for a long time. I don’t even know how long.

“Are you ok?”

There is a muffled voice, and I wave my hand for them to go away. They don’t.

“Are you ok?” They are more insistent now.

I sit up.

It’s a woman.

“I thought this was a men’s only facility,” I tell her, rubbing my face. She’s middle-aged, soft-spoken. She’s dressed well, classy. Hounds-tooth slacks and a cream-colored turtleneck. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

“It is,” she answered. “So don’t tell on me.”

She comes in, and pours a glass of water from a pitcher, then hands it to me. “You need to drink this. It flushes out toxins.”

I snort. “It’s going to take more than that,” I say, but I take the glass and gulp the liquid down. I set the glass down, and then it occurs to me. “You’re my therapist?” I guess.

She sits in the chair next to the bed.

“What if I am? Will you talk to me?”

“Not today,” I answer. “I’m very tired.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” she agrees. “Why don’t you rest tonight, get something to eat, and I’ll be back in the morning.”

It’s a firm suggestion, said gently.

“Ok. We’ll see how I feel in the morning.”

&

nbsp; She nods and slips out the door.

I pull Zuzu’s drawing out of my bag, and prop it on my nightstand.

Then I fall back asleep.

32

Chapter Thirty-One

My therapist is back in the morning, this time with two cups of coffee. She hands me one.

I sip at it, and I rub my face. She hadn’t even given me time to wake-up.

“This is an early session,” I point out. She smiles.