“It makes the pain go away, when baking doesn’t.” I shrug. “I’m having nightmares about the car wreck. It’s always the same one. No one comes to help and I watch her bleed out in front of me. I scream and scream, but no one can hear me.”
Amber writes something down on her notepad again.
“Tell me more about the wreck,” she says gently.
“It was winter. We were out shopping, had dinner, and were on our way home. It had been snowing and the roads were slick. It was my idea to go out that day.” I pause, the memories flashing through my brain.
“Take your time,” Amber encourages me.
"Some guy blew through a stop sign and t-boned us,” I slowly continue. “The paramedics say Mom died on impact.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Sometimes I feel guilty for surviving. My mom was a neurosurgeon, one of the top in the field. I just…” I trail off as tears form in my eyes. I try to blink them away but they’re too fast and they fall down my face.
Amber leans forward and hands me a box of tissues.
The tears fall faster and faster and before I know it, I’m falling apart. My shoulders shake as a sob escapes my mouth and I do my best to reign it in and get myself under control again.
It’s a while before I continue. It’s embarrassing to cry like this in front of a stranger but Amber’s presence is soothing.
“I just like to bake and have no idea what I’m doing with my life. Sometimes I feel like everyone would be better off if I had been the one that died instead of my mom.”
“Oh, Thea,” she says. She looks at me empathetically. “I know we just met, but I can tell you that is simply not true. Your aunt certainly wouldn’t be better off without you.”
“Yeah, but she’d have her sister,” I say before I blow my nose.
“It sounds like she loves you very much, to insist on bringing you here.”
I stay quiet for a moment before I add, “She’s been so strong for me, but I know it’s consuming her, too.”
“Survivor’s guilt is completely normal. As is the recurring nightmares. What you went through was very traumatic. And moving across the country, meeting new people…it’s a lot of change in a short amount of time.”
“You’re telling me,” I laugh before I blow my nose again. “Beth just thinks I need some help and…she might be right.”
“There’s no shame in asking for help, Thea,” Amber says. “Losing a loved one is never easy.” She offers a gentle smile and goes back to her notepad. “You’ve taken a big step by coming here.” She smiles at me and it feels like a warm hug.
“I won’t lie and say that this will be a walk in the park,” she continues, “but you have to be serious about this, Thea. The sun will shine again.”
“The sun will shine again,” I repeat before wiping at my tear-stained face.
We talk for a while longer; the hour goes by quicker than I thought it would. Talking with her is comforting; like I’m talking to someone I’ve known my entire life.
Amber glances at the clock.
“I hate to say this, but our hour is up. Here.” She reaches across her desk for a sticky note and jots something down on it before she hands it to me. “I wrote my cell phone number down for you. Day or night, if you need something, I want you to reach out. I’m here for you.”
I like her. There’s something comforting in her demeanor. Almost like I see a piece of my mom in her. I make a mental note to tell Beth she should see her, too.
“I want to see you back next week,” she says. She schedules my next appointment and grabs some pamphlets from the wall behind her. “And I want you to stop drinking. If you feel the urge, lean on your people. Even me, okay?”
I nod.
She stands and I follow suit. I feel emotionally drained and just want to go to bed.
Amber looks at me for a moment and then steps around her desk, opening her arms wide. She gives me a quick hug before motioning to her door.
“It was really great to meet you,” she says as we walk out of her office, “and really, if you need anything, please let me know. I’m in your corner.”
