AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m sorry, Savannah.” Her voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it over the phone line. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s too soon. You just got out of…” She leaves the rest of the sentence hanging, but I know which winding road of disappointment it was headed down. She does sound sorry, but other emotions sit in her tone. Emotions that feel like the door is being slammed in my face.
My vision swims in and out. I bite back the building sob. “I have a job and a home. I…I’m seeing a therapist. I’m getting my life back together.” Somehow, the words come out smooth and even, the curtains closing over how much her words shred me on the inside.
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” She actually sounds genuine. “But it’s more complex than that. We just need more time. You need more time to—”
“Mooooommmyyyyyy,” Amelia calls out, interrupting what Grace was saying, and giggles.
“How much more time?” I ask and wipe at the rebellious tear.
“I’ve got to go. Bye, Savannah.” Grace ends the call.
And I’m left staring at the phone again, my past mistakes repeatedly stabbing me in the heart.
I swat at another tear. I feel cold.
I feel empty.
I feel lost.
I just want to curl up on the couch and sob until I have nothing left to cry. Enshroud myself in a blanket of grief and never let it go. I just want to pull the familiar numbness to me and try to make it through each day as the shell of the woman I once was.
“When you feel anxious, I want you to do the five, four, three, two, one exercise.” Robyn’s words flutter in my thoughts. “What do you see?”
“I see a dark-wood coffee table, Bailey, the TV remote control, the thriller Troy is reading. I see the framed photo on the shelf of Troy, Olivia, Colton, and eight-month-old Nova all smiling and looking like a happy family.”
“What do you hear?”
“I hear the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the purr of a lawnmower outside, the neighborhood kids playing in the street, soft music from someone’s yard. I hear the emptiness buzzing in my ears.”
“What do you feel?”
I lean down and stroke Bailey.
“I feel Bailey’s hair running through my fingers, the soft texture of the couch, the short pile of the rug under my feet, the movement of Bailey’s chest as she breathes.” I touch my leg. “I feel the bandage on my stitched-up thigh.”
I continue with the exercise. It might have helped if not for the sound of the young girls giggling outside of the living room window. It’s the tether to my grief. The thing that reminds me of everything I’ve lost.
I pull my feet onto the couch, wrap my arms around my bent legs, and lower my forehead to my knees. My body shakes with the intensity of my sobs.
I’m vaguely aware of the front door clicking open and shut. Of Butterscotch scampering into the living room, his nails clicking against the floor. Bailey moves from beside me, and a moment later, Troy takes over her place on the couch. His scent of mountains and hope envelops me.
He strokes his hand down my back. “What happened?”
I shake my head, still not looking up. I can’t tell him. It was hard enough to tell him the truth about my husband and prison. I can’t reveal this secret too.
Troy pulls me to him, and I rest my head on his chest. My tears soak through his T-shirt. I want to ask him what he’s doing home so early, but I can’t find it in me to form the words. I can only let my tears fall.
Troy continues holding me and doesn’t push for me to tell him what’s wrong. He’s the stalwart against all my storms, supporting me when my base crumbles.
I’m not sure what I would do without him.
“Tell me how you felt when Grace ended the call without answering your question,” Robyn says from her chair. She’s wearing her Army-green shirt and skirt, her ankles crossed to the side. I’m sitting on the couch in her office.
My gaze flicks to the plants on the corner shelves. “Frustrated. Jealous. Powerless.”
“Tell me why those emotions.”
I had a therapy appointment scheduled for this afternoon, and I finally admitted the one truth I had omitted before. I told her about Amelia, about her adoptive parents, and about their connection to me.
