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But I’m more confident in front of my therapist. “Yes.”
He smiles gently. Then reaches over to his side table and grabs a piece of paper with hearts all over it and a pen. He hands them both to me.
I raise an eyebrow at the heart stationary.
He grins and shrugs. “The hearts make the paper more special.”
I nod.
“Write down something painful. Someone painful. Make it small. At least, smaller than letting go of the man you love. Write a goodbye. And let that pain go. Not to forget, but just so you can move on.”
I nod.
I don’t think I can. I don’t think I can let any of the pain I’m feeling go, but I’ll try.
The baby kicks again, and I wince.
At first, the kicks felt wonderful. Like tiny little butterflies, but each day the baby learns how to kick harder. The doctor said they shouldn’t be painful yet, but I disagree. They are very painful.
Evan stares at me. “You okay?”
“Yes, just the baby is kicking.”
“You are very brave, Katherine. And strong. You can do this, for your baby.”
“Thank you.”
I stand and walk out, armed with my paper and pen.
My father told me to text him, and he’d pick me up when I was done with my appointments, but I decide to take my therapist’s advice. I walk down to the bridge overlooking a small creek.
This seems like the best place to let go of some pain.
But where to start?
My parents.
Zeke.
Langston.
Liesel.
Enzo.
None of them seem right to let go of. He said let go of the pain, not them.
I can do this.
I don’t want to talk about my parent’s deaths. I feel like I’ve already come to term with Zeke’s death.
Langston.
My father gave me an update on this last week, but I wish he hadn’t. Because he confirmed Langston and Liesel died that night. Enzo survived and has disappeared. But Langston and Liesel died.
Because of me—they are dead.
I couldn’t save them.
