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“What do I do now?”
Cora points to my lunch. “Eat.” She laughs. “Take a minute to breathe and soak it all in. Yes, it’s big. Huge. Life changing.” She picks up her own fork and takes a bite. “But it’s also incredible, Shell.” She looks over at Clara sleeping in her stroller. “There’s good and bad days. And yours will be different than mine.” Her eyes find mine again. “But it’s all worth it. My first piece of advice—the only one I’ll give today—is to talk to your gynecologist. If they’re an OB-GYN, you’re golden. If not, they’ll direct you where to go next.” She sips her water. “And the rest of us will always be here. You have us. And Devlyn.”
For a first-time mother of an infant, Cora is giving me a confidence boost. She and Gavin still navigate being new parents, but her calm reassurances settle some of the anxiety. Instinct told me she and Elizabeth were the right people to tell first. And who knows, I may wait until after my first official doctor’s appointment to mention anything to Mom. That will give Devlyn and I time to adjust a little more before Mom shrieks in joy and asks unnerving questions.
“Thank you,” I say. “Somehow, I knew you’d alleviate some of my worry.”
“You never have to thank me, Shell. That’s what best friends are for. You’d do the same for me in a heartbeat.” It’s true, I would. “So, when are you telling Mama Reed?”
I wince. “Uh, not for a bit. I want to see the doctor first. Give myself and Devlyn a little more time to process this before the big reveal.” I shake my head on a laugh. “Mom doesn’t even know we’re dating. Doesn’t know Devlyn exists. So, not only will I be saying, ‘hey Mom, meet my boyfriend, Devlyn.’ I will also be saying, ‘and by the way, we’re pregnant. Woo!’I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Swear to god, if the first thing out of her mouth is wanting to know when we’ll get married, I will lose my shit.” I startle and look to Clara. “I mean cool. Lose my cool.”
Cora laughs. “Shell, it’s okay. Clara has no clue what we’re saying right now. Down the road, yes, the alternate swear words will be in full force. For now, you’re fine.” She scoops up another bite. “And I promise not to say anything to anyone else. Not until you give the green light.”
Elizabeth walks back into the room and joins us at the table. “What’d I miss?”
Over noodles, rice and veggies, I share with Elizabeth everything I did with Cora. She, too, promises not to say anything until I give the go-ahead. Then she hugs me, tighter and harder than ever. She assures me everything will be fine. She tells me not to worry about the shop, that she will be here until I am ready and able to handle the change. Of course, I cry. Because today is the day to cry until my eyes puff like clouds.
And when lunch ends, I feel lighter and more stable on my feet.
After the call this morning, it felt like someone had grabbed me by the ankles and held me upside down. Now, I feel strong enough to walk. To move forward. To handle this big change in my life with more confidence.
FOUR
DEVLYN
“How does that make you feel?”
I love and loathe therapy. Getting in my car twice a week to drive to an office across town to talk about my feelings, about my past, about what makes my blood boil and my mind abandon reality is just… awkward and relieving and unnerving.
I thoroughly enjoy the opportunity to vent. To expel the darkness that has plagued me longer than I allowed myself to realize. To shed weight I didn’t realize I carried.
What I don’t like is the aftermath. The emotions stirred up during each session. Emotions I walk out the door with and sort through in the days between sessions. Emotions I must process, but don’t want to expose to Shelly.
The first session after my consultation, I left the office in a mass of confusion. We’d barely scratched the surface, but my mother had been a huge topic of discussion. Ithurtto talk about her. Not just my head, but also my heart. Because the more I talk about her, the more it registers how much shedoesn’tlove me. Her definition of love is warped. Whatever makes her feel important, puts her in the spotlight, has people fawning over her… that is her version of love. For Karen Templar, love has a price tag.
How sick and twisted. And sad.
During our first session, after my need to pause and take several deep breaths, Dr. Prince had said,“You can’t move past this if you don’t process it.”I have to let in the feelings I concealed for years. Unearth all the memories that once seemed loving and innocent, so I can dissect and process them with a fresh perspective.
So that is what I have been doing. Processing.
And processing hurts. Profusely.
“Afraid,” I answer.
Dr. Prince tilts his head and reads my expression a moment before jotting something on the notepad in his lap. “Can you elaborate? Share why you feel afraid.”
Elaborate. I don’twantto elaborate. But Ineedto open up and expand. Spread my wings. Peel back the layers and expose my heart. Let the poison spill from my veins so I can move on, move past my fears. Move forward.
My eyes shift to the window, to the somber gray sky through the cracked wooden blinds. To the semibare branches of a tree. The day as moody as I feel. For two deep breaths, I close my eyes. Give in to my fears and let them take over. Give myself permission to voice the thoughts haunting me since learning Shelly was pregnant.
I am safe here.
“What if I become her?” I open my eyes and meet Dr. Prince’s gaze. My fingers toy with the bottom of my hoodie while my leg bounces uncontrollably. “What if I do to my own child what my mother has done to me? Suppress them. Make them feel less important, less than human. Worthless. Trivial.”
Dr. Prince scribbles on his notepad. “Tell me an occasion when you felt suppressed or worthless.”
A fist wraps around my heart. Squeezes the pounding organ until it quivers, until it begs for relief. I rock slowly in place on the sofa. Take a deep breath. Then another.
