Page 78 of Life, Love, and Other Messes

Over the next twenty minutes, I explained to the best of my ability what I’d done. I managed to stop crying, but the story still came out in short, awkward chunks, partial thoughts, fragments of sentences. Laying it all out there felt different from when I’d given Lisa an abridged version. It did not feel good.

Catherine sat very still, watching me with one of her more careful expressions. When I came to what felt like an ending point, she nodded. “I’m proud of you. Are you proud of yourself?”

“I don’t know. It kind of feels like shit.”

“Were you proud of yourself when you did it?”

“Maybe.”

“What happened afterward?”

“My brother came out and said he couldn’t believe I did it.”

“Was he critical or pleased?”

“Pleased. But shocked. Really shocked. Then I kicked the shit out of a cross memorializing an aborted fetus.”

Now, Catherine’s eyebrows jumped. “Oh dear.” For a second, I was certain she was trying to hold back giggles, but she kept her cool. “Was it substantial? Did you hurt yourself?”

I shook my head. “Little wooden thing about so big. The lawn was full of them.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t self-harm.”

I shrugged. “Positive, I suppose.”

“Have you hurt yourself since?”

I shook my head. “It feels like shit though. I mean, I stood up for myself and I stood up to that awful excuse for a man, but I’ve hurt my mother and it feels like shit.”

“Are you sure she’s angry with you instead of the church?”

“She won’t return my phone calls or texts.”

Catherine looked at me for a long time. I could tell what was going through her head: all those times my mother had hurt me and I hadn’t ghosted her. “This is a big deal for her.”

“That church is her life.”

“Her children should be her life.”

I stared out the window. “All I can do is let her cool off and see where things end up. That’s all I can do, right?”

“Are you okay with that?”

I shrugged. “I have to be.”

“So did you break up with Lisa right away?”

The next twenty minutes were devoted to more tears and self-loathing. I told Catherine that Lisa hadn’t done a thing wrong. That she was wonderful. That she’d said and done all the right things. I just couldn’t keep from my usual ways. I couldn’t stop being jealous of things that shouldn’t bother me. I couldn’t believe she was being real when she showed she cared about me. I just didn’t deserve her, and she certainly didn’t deserve the mess that I was.

“Time out,” Catherine finally said. I looked up at the clock, sure she was about to cut me off, but we still had five minutes left. When I looked back at her, she was flipping through my file. “You said this was after the church debacle. Did you feel any of this before that happened?”

“Before the party? A little maybe.” I searched the ceiling for an answer. “Yes.”

“I think we might need to tweak your meds.”

“Oh God. No. Please, no.”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry, I just want to nudge the antidepressants up a notch. You might just need a little push to get you through until things settle down with your mother, but you’re forty-six and we haven’t adjusted anything for four years.”