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“Don’t be pushy. I have a free country in there and no crime squad dictating me.”
She giggles at that as Leif adds, “Fraud squad arrived and ready to report. Sister dear, you will have to admit your problems.”
I know they are right.
Chapter 11
Learning curve
~Cassandra~
Two and half months later
November brought wintry weather chills. In the morning, frosted cars are decorated with beautiful designs. Some of the puddles have an icy layer, and the trees lost their delicate leaves and stand like scary skeletons, waving to us.
In these last few months, I have done a lot of work learning to cope with PTSD. One of the distracting techniques is cooking and feeding the twins. Not my girl and boy, but Logan’s brothers. Perhaps my motherly instincts demanded to be utilized in this manner.
“Cassandra, the guilt isn’t logical. You are not to be blamed for what happened.” I recall how Laisa pinpoints unhelpful thoughts or misrepresentations I have about the accident.
Exhaling cold air as I jog, I take time to reflect on my past. My muscles feel warm and my breathing controlled as I sprint the usual route, trying to let memories of my deceased boys come.
“Mummy, Mummy, that is for you!” Excited dark blue eyes watch me, waiting for my reaction as Nate gives me the first artwork he made at school.
That memory fades into a new one. A charming Nate’s performance, he’s making faces, trying to please us. In the next one, I hear cute giggles as we hide in a tent made out of blankets from Daddy, who is coming home from work.
Lost in the memories, I don’t even notice when I reach the lake. I continue to walk, watching the trees in the water’s reflection as I try to calm my breathing. In therapy, I work to desensitize my reactions, so my fear becomes less intense.
Sometimes I wake up, and I am Sandra. Nate’s voice echoes as he talks with his little brother. I walk to the children’s room to find two empty cots. My yearning heart plummets, but at least now, I let myself mourn them.
I close my eyes, so to not let those memories drown me. Then, I open myself to the happy ones, anchoring me back. Logan's strong roaming hands and body melting into mine. I memorize the passionate kisses, strokes, and whispered words before I fall asleep.
We used to text and email every day, but lately, I feel the distance. Will my twins be able to recognize my scent, my voice, my face? It tortures me every time I think about how quickly they grow.
An inner voice whispers, “You are an awful mother.”
No matter how many psychotherapy sessions or CBTs I go to, I’m still battling with my own perceptions. I struggle every day. All the hate, shame, and disgust I feel is hindering my progress.
Laisa reminds me, “You
are not at fault. Work to establish better skills coping with the trauma.”
Leif hasn’t left me since day one, but Lucas had to go back for work. They’ve helped to establish a routine and exercise regimen. Lucas—or, in his absence, Leif—is getting my sorry ass out of bed every morning at five. At first, I wanted to kill them for bestowing military shit upon me. Since I gave birth to the twins, I hadn’t yet gotten into an exercise routine, so you can imagine how that went, right?
I was sick by the end of my half-kilometer run, and then Lucas told me I needed to kickbox too. I thought this was my chance to get back at him, but I was wrong. I ended up on my ass too many times. The muscles ached in places a woman should never feel.
After two weeks, though, I was running two kilometers like a champ, but I still suck at self-defense, since I had no idea what I was doing wrong in the first place.
“Could you at least show me how to hold my hands, or balance? That’s not training but abuse. Give me some tips, Sergeant, ok?” Lucas, back from his assignment, gives me a mystified smile and then orders me to do burpees.
“What would you do if I say fuck you?” I give him the middle finger, then begin marching back home, furious. A moment later, I feel someone lift me in the air like a sack of potatoes, and bring me back to the lake to practice again.
Where does his patience and stubbornness come from? Of course, this time, he shows me how to stand and kick correctly, and then orders me to begin the sequence of moves all over again.
A little while later, I crawl to the lake to cool down my heated skin after training, as Lucas heads back to change, to go see his dad.
“You are not going to kill yourself, right? Because I don’t want to become your hero today, I have a hot date. Choose another time, and I’m game for some sexy wet times, baby.”
I crane my neck to see the same face of another evil twin. I also give him the middle finger, flinching when my muscles protest in pain.
