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I didn’t need sage wisdom, or years of advanced degrees. All I needed was someone to listen. Someone to steer my ship out of the storm. Beth encouraged me to pursue American and Greer’s offer.
During our last session I sat across from her while she scribbled something on a clipboard.
Beth looked at me. “Is there anything you want to discuss before you leave?”
It was more open-ended than her usual questions. “No.”
She smiled. “Are you sure? You seemed to hesitate.”
“I-I don’t know if I’ll ever stop feeling guilty,” I admitted.
“Guilty? Because you’re moving and have accepted a job?”
I shook my head. “No. Because I’m leaving them.”
She let her pen drop to the paper and leaned forward. “You have the right to be happy, Elliot. You deserve to be fulfilled in your life.” She paused. “And you can always come home to visit. You can call and text.” She eyed me. “But not too much.”
I sighed. That was the catch. How did I set boundaries? How did I find balance when no one else but me wanted it?
“And when that doesn’t work?” I asked.
“I think it will. I think you’ll be surprised how a little distance will free you.”
Beth had been partly right. I tried to use all of the relaxation techniques she taught me. I closed my eyes, expecting to see a picture of the beach, or a sunny green field, but instead I saw the sexy lust-filled smirk on Vaughn’s face.
My eyes popped open. That was not a meditative thought. I scolded myself. What the hell? I returned to my breathing, but my focus was gone. Vaughn had invaded my quiet space.
“Meg, send her in,” I called through the door to the clerk. I needed more than a distraction from my family drama.
I dove into the one thing that always made my mind focus—the law.
As promised I used my lunch break to check in with Garret. My call went to his voicemail. He hadn’t bothered to set up a message.
“Hey, it’s your sister. Mom is worried about you. Call her, please.”
I hung up and regretted not saying something about how I was worried too. That it mattered to me where he was. I started scrolling through all the social media sites I knew he used. When things were going well for him he liked to post pictures. He’d check in at a park, or upload a shot of a sunset. I didn’t see anything recent on his accounts. I tried not to let that worry me. It had happened before.
I called my mother to let her know I didn’t have anything to report.
The phone rang a few times before she answered. “Hey, honey.” She sounded calmer than before, casual.
“Have you heard anything?” I asked. I was going to suggest she check with his friend Chris. He might have better luck locating him.
“Oh, yes. He’s here. I just fixed him a sandwich.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
“You what?” I felt the irritation crawl over my skin. “Garret’s there? Eating a sandwich?”
“Mmmhmm. You were right. He was out for a walk. Nothing to worry about.”
“Mom, you should have texted me or left me a voicemail,” I lectured. I felt the heat in my neck.
She sighed. “I didn’t think about it I guess. And he needs lunch. He was hungry after all that exercise.”
I gritted my teeth. “He’s not hungry. He’s bi-polar. He needs help, not food.”
My mom hated the word. She hated the diagnosis. Dad wouldn’t even mention it. He pretended it wasn’t true.
“Elliot,” she whispered, probably so my brother wouldn’t hear her scold me.
