I pushed the doubts down before I spiraled. Then I picked up the paperback from my nightstand instead.
Five chapters later, I stared through the kitchen window at Mimi’s backyard with my second cup of coffee in my hand.
Sunlight reflected off the dewy, blooming flower bushes of her garden. They reminded me of the fresh flowers they always had at Morning Glory Farm, a small local farm a mile from Mimi’s house. Grateful I didn’t buy much produce at the grocery store yesterday, I skipped upstairs to change and smiled when a pair of jeans that hadn’t been comfortable for a while zipped up easily.
This is what this break is for, isn’t it?I thought as I drove. Sleeping, reading, cooking, enjoying my free time. If I focused onmy physical health, then my mental health would follow, right? Hopefully my new therapist would know.
When I opened my car door in the Morning Glory parking lot, I caught an instant whiff of fresh flowers. The smell enveloped the entire property. The breeze rustling the leaves and the rhythmic whir of the windmill mingled with my crunching footsteps as I walked the flower-lined path to the door.
I picked up a wicker basket and a bunch of sunflowers from outside. Before I swung open the screen door the floral smell was overtaken by freshly baked muffins. This was dangerous, given the healthy eating kick I’d been on.
Vegetables first, then maybe some bakery items, I said to myself.And I’m joining the gym tomorrow.
The farm store was all light wood, like the inside of a barn, with wooden tables and crates filled to the brim with fruits, vegetables, and leafy greens. It was a kaleidoscope of colors, broken up by cheerful blackboard signs noting the name of each item.
I placed two fresh tomatoes from the table in front of the door in my basket. When I turned to look at the bakery section, there was a tall man with a deep tan skin tone standing there, reading the labels on the pie-shaped boxes in front of him.
He wore a black T-shirt, blue golf shorts, and a pair of boat shoes that looked like they’d traveled to the bottom of the ocean and back. His dark brown, almost black, hair was long, curling at the nape of his neck in the back, and sloping down from his hairline to his eyebrows in the front. He pushed it back, and the pieces fell down to the exact same spot. As if he could feel me watching him, he turned and caught my eye. His eyes were a deep, warm brown. Inviting.
I realized too late that I was staring. My options were to pretend I wasn’t and flee to another section of the store or say something to justify why I was looking at him.
“Hi,” I blurted.
“Hi,” he replied, amusement dancing across his face. One of his dark eyebrows rose slightly.
Why was I saying hi? Why would someone say hi to a stranger in a store?
“Um, so…” I nodded toward the stacks of pie boxes he was scrutinizing. “What do you usually buy here? I haven’t been back in ages.”
His face changed to a friendly smile, white teeth appearing within his neatly trimmed, dark beard.Wow, he’s handsome.“The quiches are the best, and they change up the flavors regularly. Definitely grab one of those. And the zucchini bread. Plus, I mean, all the produce is great, too, because a lot of it is grown here.” He gestured to the rest of the store with a muscular, tanned arm.
“Thank you. I’ll definitely try a quiche then.” I smiled at him. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I thought he might say something else. Instead, he added one of the boxes to the top of his basket, which was already full of green produce bags. He stepped aside so I could look at the display.
“Enjoy,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the checkout area.
“Thanks!” I called back.
I wondered if he lived on the island full-time. It was mid-May, which was early if you only spent your summers here.
I wished I had thought of something else to say to him. I was out of practice at…well, everything that wasn’t talking to partners, associates, and clients about purchase agreements.
Maybe I’d run into him again at some point. The island wasn’t that big. I rolled my lips between my teeth and stole one more look at him in the checkout line.
I hadn’t had the time or the desire to put myself out there in years. Maybe that was changing though, because one of the first things I noticed about him was that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
9
“So tell me what precipitated the medical leave.”
I stared at the blonde, forty-something woman on my laptop screen. It was my first official counseling session with my new therapist, Wendy. Morning light streamed through the blinds above the little desk in Mimi’s guest bedroom as I collected my thoughts.
After a deep breath I detailed the lifestyle of a deal lawyer for her—the hours, the client demands, the requirement to be available on short notice, even on the weekends. I told her about the panic attack I had, the fainting, the hand shaking and crying, followed by the feelings of hopelessness and apathy, all the while wringing my hands under the desk and attempting to maintain my composure.
When I finished, she looked at me for a moment—my glassy eyes and clenched jaw—and said, “I amsoproud of you for taking this break and putting your health first.”
I burst into tears.
Wendy waited patiently while I swiped at my cheeks, took deep breaths, and prayed it was normal for her clients to lose it during sessions.
