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All of my possessions, well, the significant ones anyway, fit into one box. So with that box under my arm, I wished them luck and told them to burn some sage as I slammed the door shut behind me. I still wonder if they survived in the home which was my prison for years.
With no real place to go, seeing as I just upped and left the place that was my hometown for over ten years, I decided to go back to where it all began.
I went back to New Jersey.
There was no way I could work with my head the way it was, so I gave Susanna a much-deserved month off and referred my patients to other doctors. Once my work and home life were relatively sorted, I too took a much-deserved month off and figured out what the hell I wanted to do.
I rented a small two-bedroom home in the suburbs, and I just…slept. I was so tired. My body checked into its own personal rehab, and I detoxed from life.
I would have probably slept for another month, but of course Hunter wouldn’t allow such a respite. When he banged on my door, demanding beer and a Jersey “hoagie,” I knew that no matter where I lived, he’d always annoy the shit out of me.
He ended up staying two weeks as I hadn’t even realized I’d missed Christmas, New Year’s, and my thirty-third birthday. But honestly, I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate. I wasn’t really in the mood for anything. The thought of going on without Maddy seemed so pointless, but I put on my big girl panties and decided to try this New Year’s resolution fad on for size.
The first call of business was deciding what the hell I wanted to do with my life. Now that I was in Jersey, the thought of going back to Manhattan seemed like crazy talk. I missed the serenity,the simplicity of this beautiful state, so I decided to stay. It also gave me a chance to work on my strained relationship with my dad.
A few weeks later, I was the proud owner of a four-bedroom home in the ’burbs. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with four bedrooms, but considering the cost of living was ten times more affordable and comfortable here than in Manhattan, I figured what the hell.
It took some convincing, but about three months in, my dad finally agreed to come stay with me. Not live, but visit on weekends. At first, I regretted my decision and had to stop myself on numerous occasions from jumping into my car and fleeing back to Manhattan. But little by little, as my dad and I actually started communicating, I realized that things were going to be okay. Even though it was mainly me talking, spilling out my heart and soul, needing confirmation from the only person whose opinion I gave two fucks about, it helped me heal.
The doctors instructed me that my father would never return to how he once was. But one night, when I asked him if he thought I was a good man and he slowly reached for my hand, I knew that no matter his condition, this was enough. Two weeks later, he moved in with me permanently.
Now that my home life was under control, it was time to focus on my career.
I took a long leave of absence, handing my practice over to a well-respected doctor and associate, Dr. Caffey, aka the slob, temporarily. I didn’t want to give up practicing in Manhattan entirely, but I knew I needed a change. And that’s what led me to enroll in some night classes, and before I knew it, I was Dr.andProfessor Mathews.
Chad was right. The award I had smashed into teeny tiny pieces opened up many opportunities for me, and I became apart-time lecturer at Princeton. I taught clinical psychology and cognitive and behavioral neuroscience.
It was fun teaching rich kids the way of the world, but before long, I found I wanted to steer them in the right direction and warn them off the path of sin. The path I lived on for too long.
I returned to practicing after a six-month-long, much-needed break, but due to my teaching responsibilities, I only worked three days a week. Dr. Caffey was pleased to welcome me back. I think she was seconds away from throttling my patients and my dear, harmless receptionist, Susanna.
Susanna expressed in not so many words that if she had to work for Dr. Taylor Caffey a second longer, she would have no qualms about poisoning her coffee. It’s nice to know I’m missed.
So between work, teaching, and hanging out with my dad, I didn’t have time for much else. And that suited me just fine. It still does.
Hunter and Finch have come to visit countless times, and I can see my father improve a touch each time.
The nights I’m in Manhattan, I’ve rented a cheap apartment in Midtown. So, all in all, Hunter’s prediction that the distance would tear us threeamigosapart has been wrong. If anything, it’s brought us closer together.
You seem to take things for granted when they’re sitting within your reach, but distance really does make the heart grow fonder. Especially distances as far away as Colorado.
But I can’t even speak that word. It’s like my Voldemort. It’s a reminder that in it lives the woman who I still love with everything that I am.
I want to believe that what happened between us changed me—changed me into the better man I wanted to become. But a better man is still not on par with a good man. That’s something I’m not sure I can ever be, thanks to my sins.
One of those sins is of course Ms. Juliet Harte.
I don’t know what I did to be so lucky, but the night I left her a sobbing mess on her living room floor was the last night I ever saw or heard from her. For the first few months, I walked on eggshells, not believing this was finally over. But so far, she’s kept away.
But that might change because by now, she will be the mother of a child who just may be mine. Madison’s words still ring true because she’s right. I have to take responsibility for what’s mine. A month ago, my attorney sent Juliet a subpoena, requesting information to confirm or deny if the child is mine. I’m still waiting.
I wrote a letter to Rachel and Sebastian, detailing how sorry I was for hurting their daughter and letting them down. I never got a response, but I never expected one.
So yes, I’ve reached my breaking point. But I’m slowly climbing my way back up again. It’s a long way to the top, but if I want to rock ’n’ roll again, I have to endure the climb.
Looking at the wooden frame on my cluttered desk, I see a picture of Dr. Caffey and her partner, Alice, staring back at me. They look so happy. I can’t help but wonder what their secret is. But it’s not to put into practice; it’s just out of curiosity. It’s the doctor in me itching to know why they’ve lasted while Madison and I did not.
I meant it when I said my heart belongs to her and only her, as I haven’t been able to look at another woman without wanting to dig my eyeballs out or run for the hills. I don’t see that changing any time this century.
