AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don't want any memories of him. I'm not strong enough to think about him, so I don't; instead, I focus every waking hour on my work.
I've been fine managing myself…until now, until today.
"Today is the one-year anniversary, and you're facing it alone. It's normal for memories to taunt you like this around the time of an anniversary," Dr. Reynolds says, making me raise my head and look at her for the first time during our session.
I'm hoping she's right. I'm fucking hoping that once I get through today, the dreams will stop. I can't take it anymore; I already blame myself more than anyone says I should.
"Talk to me, Camille. Tell me what you're thinking." Damn, this woman knows me. She always knows when I get lost inside my head.
Dr. Reynolds raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, giving me awell, speak out loudlook. I can't help but laugh, and God bless this woman for dealing with my shit for the last year. I know I haven't been the easiest patient.
"I was thinking that you might be right. Maybe once the day is over, my dreams will stop." I tell her what she wants to hear, even though I don't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I'll tell her anything to get what I want.
"There's a support group for grieving parents at the Downtown Community Center. I know that you've turned down the idea in the past, but I think it could help you if you were to share your grief with others who would understand. Try it, just once." She leans forward and hands me the pamphlet, and I surprise us both by taking it.
"No promises, but I'll think about it. Thanks, Doc." I force a smile, and she happily changes our conversation topic.
By the end of our session, we say our goodbyes, and I leave with exactly what I came for—another refill of happy pills.
My phone ringsafter leaving the pharmacy directly across the street from Dr. Reynolds’s office. A quick look tells me that it's my mother.
Perfect timing.
My family isn't aware that I'm still taking medication, and I don't see a reason why they'd ever need to know. They’d worry about me, and no doubt wonder if I’m truly doing as well as I claim. And honestly, I don’t want their voiced concern, so I keep it private.
I climb into my car and secure my phone into the dash phone holder and answer the call via Bluetooth. "Hey, Mom, what's up?" I pull out of the pharmacy parking lot and into traffic.
"Hi, sweetie, I'm just calling to see how your session went."
"It was good, and you're right. I should do something to help myself, especially tonight." My mom has been begging me to take some action to help me through the day. She said avoiding it wasn't an option, but nothing feels right.
Why do we even celebrate the anniversary of someone's death? That seems like a fucked-up thing to do. Like, hey, congrats on being dead for one year; I hope heaven is great!
I roll my eyes and suppress a laugh.
"That's great, sweetie! What did you decide to do?"
"Dr. Reynolds suggested a support group. It's tonight at seven, so I'm going to go. Want to grab lunch now?"
"That makes me so happy. I think it’ll be a great thing for you. Lunch sounds great, and I'm here at the club with your father. I'll call Spencer and we can all have lunch together."
"I'll head over there now. Love you, Mom."
"I love you too, sweetie. I'll see you soon." I press the end button on my steering wheel and lean back against my seat while driving in silence.
I've always been ridiculously close with my family. I’m incredibly close with my mom, but I've always jumped at the chance to spend time with my dad and sister, too. Ever since I moved back to Seattle last year, my mom has been my biggest ally. I can't go a day without talking to her or my older sister, Spencer.
Our family is close, and I believe that's because my mom and dad were young when they had us. Their parents weren't supportive of them having Spence and getting married, so they didn't have the best relationship. Mom and Dad both vowed to be better than their parents.
She likes to joke that the two of us are like Lorelai and Rory fromGilmore Girls. We're often mistaken for siblings, plus we're best friends.
I tell my family everything, well, almost everything. I'm an asshole for not telling them about the shiny bottle of pills in my purse that I can't go a day without. But we’re all entitled to having a few of our own secrets.
Thirty minutes later,I arrive at the elite and way too expensive country club that my parents are members of.
Before turning my car over to the valet, I take a quick moment to pop one of the holy grail blue pills I rely on into my mouth and wash it down with a sip of water.
As I finally walk inside the extravagant building, I send a quick text in a group chat with Mom and Spencer to tell them I've arrived.
