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“Why don’t you tell me about your childhood and why you feel it was crazy. I’m curious about the blowing up of wedding dresses you mentioned in your questionnaire.”

I met her smiling eyes. I didn’t see any judgment there. And she wasn’t reaching for any straitjackets yet, so I proceeded. I told her all about my mom’s plethora of husbands, including some of the sordid details about almost becoming a sexual assault victim and watching my cat be killed. She handed me a tissue when I teared up. We covered the blowing up of wedding dresses and we ended on my father, who I never knew but got a mysterious letter from every year that I didn’t open. I knew that piqued Dr. Morales’s interest, but she didn’t say anything about it.

Dr. Morales wrote down a few notes. “Why do you think your mom married so many times?”

I clasped my hands together. “I think because she was searching for the happiness she had with my dad, but she could never find it.”

“Did she tell you this?”

“No, but my grandma said my mom was never the same after a phone call in which we assumed my father rejected her.”

“But you don’t know that for a fact.”

“No.”

“And how long did your parents know each other before she became pregnant with you?”

“I can’t say for sure, but maybe a month or two.”

“You’re positive Roger is your father?”

I wasn’t sure I liked her line of questioning. It was like she was making me rethink my entire existence. “I have a picture of him and there’s a fair amount of resemblance. And my mom gave me his last name and every letter that comes has his name on it.”

She tapped her pen against her paper. “Yes, the letter. I have to say I find it interesting that you’ve never opened one. Aren’t you curious?”

I let my legs drop to the floor and sat up. “Of course I am, but I promised my mother I would never open it. And why would I care to know what’s in it when,” my voice began to raise, “he knows where I am and he’s never tried to help me. He should have protected me!” I covered my mouth. It was as if this massive epiphany struck me. Jonah was right. No one ever fought for me, and deep down I ached for it.

She leaned forward with a warm smile. “You’re right, a father should have. Why didn’t your mom want you to open the letter you get every year from Roger?”

It wasn’t lost on me that she didn’t call him my father. Could that be true? I’d never considered the possibility that my mom had lied to me about it all those years. Which was foolish, considering all the times she had lied to me. But the picture. We had the same eyes.

“I don’t know.” I wiped my eyes. “She wouldn’t ever tell me.”

“Ariana, from what you’ve told me today, I would say that your mother was a manipulative individual. She may have even suffered from borderline personality disorder—I can give you a pamphlet about it, if you would like. I think it would be beneficial for you to search out the truth for yourself. I know it sounds cliché, but the truth can set you free. Or at least put you on the path to healing. I’m going to give you some homework. First of all, I want you to open that letter when it comes this year.”

I grabbed my heart.

“I know it might feel like opening old wounds, but your wounds have never healed. Which is why I also want you—this next week before we meet again—to find a quiet place every day and choose a situation from your past to relive. A time when you didn’t feel safe and protected.”

That sounded awful. The horror must have shown on my face.

“I know it sounds difficult, because it is, but you need to allow yourself to let those past feelings percolate. Explore every emotion and sensation that comes to you. Once you’ve done that, acknowledge them. Then love all of those feelings, no matter if it’s anger, terror, or sadness. Love that you are allowing yourself to own them. Afterward, choose someone you trust to share those feelings with. Then let them go.”

I leaned back in the chair and let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll try.”

“That’s a start.”Chapter TwelveI think I cried all the way to the loft. Once the floodgates opened, I couldn’t stop. I replayed telling her about all the times I saw my mom break down and how frightened I was when I did the same thing after Kaden left me. My worst fear had come to life—that I would end up like my mother, used and abused by men. I refused for that to be me. Hence, all my life choices since.

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