A Lover's Lament

“Right,” I say with a snort. Tossing the shovel to the side, I tug the gloves off of my callused hands. “I would hardly consider mucking stalls life-threatening.” Arguing the other points she made is useless because they’re all true.

“It’s not just mucking stalls, it’s everything. If it’s your day off, you’re here in the barn from the asscrack of dawn until well past sunset, and if it’s your day to work, you’re here before and after you put in a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. Seriously, do you even see Wyatt anymore?”

“First, don’t worry about my relationship with Wyatt,” I warn, my blood boiling at the mention of his name. “It’s none of your business. Second, I come here because it’s peaceful and it gives me time to think—”

“Dwell,” she interrupts. “It gives you time to dwell. I get it, Katie. I get that you’re hurting. I’m hurting too, and so is Mom. But what you’re doing isn’t healthy.”

“Healthy? I’m not healthy, I’m in pain! Drexler killed our daddy, Bailey,” I yell, running a hand through my hair. “How does that not bother you? He was selfish, and his actions are the reason that Mom will grow old by herself and our future kids will never know their grandpa.”

Bailey’s shoulders slump. “I get that,” she concedes, sadness in her eyes. “I know that Andrew Drexler is to blame, but you need to forgive him so that—”

“What did you say?” I hiss, taking a step back as though she’d slapped me across the face. “Forgive him? You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not joking, and yes, I think you should forgive him. Look at you,” she says, waving a hand in my direction. “You’re angry and bitter over something that you can’t change. You can yell and scream and cry, and you should do all of those things. Hell, you could even hurt the man that did this, but you know what?” she asks, tossing her hands up at her sides. “It won’t bring Daddy back. So you can be angry and keep living this shell of a life that you’ve been living the past month and a half, or you can grieve with the rest of us and remember all of the good things about Daddy.”

The air swirls with tension so thick I could choke on it. We stand for several seconds just staring at each other, and I eventually have to look away or risk breaking down—and I do not want to break down. Not now, and certainly not here.

My silence must be too much for Bailey because she says, “I don’t want to fight with you, Kit Kat.” I flinch at her use of my childhood nickname. “We’ve just been tip-toeing around you for too long and I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ll drop it, and I’ll leave you alone—for now—but just know that when you do let go of the anger, the pain will still be there. It’s not going away … not until you deal with it.” She spins on her heel and walks toward the door, and when I finally gather the courage to talk, she stops but doesn’t turn to face me.

“I’m dealing with it, okay?” I sigh, mostly because I’m tired of arguing, and I hate that my baby sister is schooling me. “I’m going to therapy just like you and Mom wanted. I’m trying to work through it. What else do you want from me?”

Bailey turns around, her face void of any emotion, and she shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t want anything from you, Katie. That’s the thing, I just want you. I want my sister back.”

“I’m trying.” Why the hell can’t they see that?

“Well, try harder.” She shakes her head before turning away from me and walking out.

“How did that make you feel?” Dr. Perry asks. Folding her hands, she places them neatly in her lap atop a yellow legal pad and looks at me curiously. Apparently, my argument with Bailey this morning softened me, because normally I’m a tough nut to crack—or at least I’d like to think I am. But nope, not today. Today, I sat down on this horrid floral-print couch and spilled my guts before the expert nut-c

racker even said a word.

“You know I hate it when you ask me that question,” I quip, earning a genuine smile from my therapist. A low growl rumbles from my chest and I toss my head back on the couch. It took me three sessions with Dr. Perry to learn that she can read me like a book. I also learned, after a very ugly screaming session—the screaming was totally me—that she has the patience of a saint, and if I truly want to move past the wall I’ve put up, then I have to first open up. “It made me feel like shit. It made me feel like I’m letting them down.”

“Letting whom down?”

Lifting my head, I cock a brow and give her a classic who-do-you-think look. “Mom, Bailey, and Dad.” I’ve known for several weeks that I’m letting them down, but that’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. There’s something about saying it aloud that makes it so much more real. “You’re waiting for me to tell you how I’m letting them down, aren’t you?”

Dr. Perry flashes her signature beauty queen smile. “I’m proud of you, Katie. You’re finally catching on to this.” The corner of my mouth lifts just a fraction before I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Wait!” She puts out a hand to stop me from answering. “First, I want to know why you left Wyatt out. Do you feel like you’re letting him down too?”

Oh, hell no. I’m not about to dive into that mess right now. “One thing at time, Doc. Take your pick.”

Her lips purse but she nods. “Please, keep going.”

My body relaxes. There is only so much I can take, and I’ve just about had my fill. “I don’t understand how Mom and Bailey have been able to move on. I don’t get how they can go about their days like nothing happened.” Anxiety swirls through my body. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly to try and keep myself calm. “They smile, laugh and carry on just like they did when he was alive.”

“Does it bother you that they do those things … that they seem happy?”

“No,” I answer, nodding my head yes. “Maybe.” Leaning forward, I bury my face in my hands and then drag them through my hair. “I don’t know,” I mumble, shrugging my shoulders. “It makes me feel like they’ve moved on … like they don’t care. But I realize that’s stupid. Of course they miss him. Of course they care. I just … I feel like there’s a line drawn in the sand, and they can jump freely from one side to the next while I’m stuck in one spot, completely frozen in place.”

“Why would you want to jump?”

“Because I don’t like feeling like this,” I snap. “I hate it. Anger isn’t something I’m used to, but I can’t seem to stop feeling it. And I’m completely indifferent to everyone around me. It’s like I’m an outsider looking in. I see what I’m doing and how I’m acting, but I can’t stop. I want to care that I’m hurting them, but I don’t. I simply don’t care.”

My eyes drift over Dr. Perry’s shoulder as those words sink in. Oh my gosh. I don’t care. These are the people I love, the people that love me despite everything I’ve put them through, and I don’t care that I’m hurting them. I wait for the familiar pressure to build behind my eyes or the burn in my nose to signal a breakdown, but nothing comes. Nothing. What the hell does that say about me?

“Katie, are you okay?” Dr. Perry tilts her head, trying to catch my gaze, and I look at her and nod. “Can I speak freely for a second?”

This is different. She’s never asked that question before. “Sure,” I answer, hating how weak my voice sounds.