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“Do you work tonight?”
Maybelle asked as she remembered the light blue matching scrub set Chelsea had been wearing that first night they met. Chelsea had been up with Maybelle every day, getting her to her therapy sessions and keeping her fed.
Had she also been going to work each night?
The blood left her veins leaving her cold and uncomfortable with the thought.
Chelsea shook her head, “They had given me time off to help you these first few days, but I am back to work Saturday night.”
Maybelle’s lungs filled with relief,thank goodness, she did not want to be a mooch running the sweet woman ragged.
Chelsea shifted looking back at the wall, obviously admiring those three picture frames that stared holes into Maybelle’s soul.
“You know, I knew your mom.” Chelsea said without looking away.
Curiosity and a wee bit of excitement shot through Maybelle sitting her up straight. This was the first time someone had brought up her mom.
She had heard so much in reference to Liam, from Trey and even the nurses when she woke up but nothing specifically about the blonde woman pictured next to Maybelle in that first photo. She turned to Chelsea anxious and waiting.
“Trey didn’t know I knew her.” Chelsea's gaze finally slipped back to Maybelle, a sad half smile on her lips.
“Why?” Maybelle whispered eager to know more.
In this moment, Chelsea wasn’t expecting her to just know, not waiting for her brain to finally be whole but she was offering information that her mind craved to fill the blank files with.
“She was my therapist. Stephanie Mason was an amazing counselor that worked with women. Helped them heal, helped them overcome. I was one of those women.”
Chelsea paused.
Her eyes wandered from Maybelle, almost like she wouldn’t say more on the subject, but Maybelle was ready to drop to her knees for more information, connection, and understanding.
Chelsea smoothed her pants again with her long feminine hands and splayed her palms and fingers out across her lap, emotion flooding from her. Not in tears yet but the heart, the story that lingered in her stiff movements.
“Trey’s dad left me for another woman a couple years before you and your family moved to San Fran. I was a mess. I was so lonely and just trying to hold myself together for Trey. Most of the time he sadly was taking care of me more than I was taking care of him, and I knew I needed help. Some of theladies with sons on the football team in school talked about your mom being a therapist that focused on women who suffered from betrayal trauma and needed help. That night I looked at her website and spontaneously signed myself up for one of her group sessions.”
Chelsea let out a chuckle, turned and swiped at a stray tear that escaped down her cheek.
“I was so nervous. I was terrified there was a way I could mess up or that my hurt would be small compared to the experiences of the other women in the group— I don't know, I think I was more scared that nothing could help, and I was just broken. Stephanie Mason was the first one to talk to me when I arrived at my first meeting. She had on the biggest smile I had ever seen and instead of introducing herself or even saying hello the first thing she did was pull me into a hug. I just collapsed into her arms and cried.”
Maybelle soaked up every word, every chuckle and tear. Her heart full, not for the loss and pain that Chelsea had endured, of course, but for the love and emotion that spilled from her story.
“With one look your mom knew I couldn’t hold myself up alone for one more second, so she held me, just for a moment but it meant the world. One day a week for months your mother held me and the women of that group up until we started to hold each other up. Friendships and relationships blossomed to stabilize us in our own personal lives of turmoil. Then we got better at holding ourselves up. We relied on each other when needed but we learned to be free and rely on our own strengths. Your mom saved my life, Maybelle.”
Chelsea punctuated that final statement by reaching over and grasping Maybelle’s hand.
“Trey knew I was in therapy, but I didn’t tell him that the mom of his best friend was my therapist until those firstweeks after the accident. I finally told him, and we both realized that we had a shared interest in making sure you were taken care of. I hope you never feel alone in this. I can’t imagine what you might be experiencing but know that this is your home now too. You may not ever get your memories back but no matter if you do or you don’t you will forever be welcome back here and always have a place, and people to call home. You understand me, Maybelle?”
She was crying.
She didn’t recall when she started but the tears poured from her. Maybelle hadn’t realized just how much she needed to hear that. Even though she couldn't remember the family she’d been born into, the people she’d lost and the love that she had once had for them, Maybelle was anxious and scared that she was utterly alone, never to be completely accepted into a world she couldn’t remember. Sheneededto hear that she was not alone despite the memory loss.
The only response she could give the sweet woman before her was a nod as she sniffled through the overwhelming tears.
She didn’t realize how much emotion she had been holding in from the last week of events. The buildup of the confusion, the frustration, the loneliness, exhaustion, the inadequacy, and heartache from the last eight days finally came crashing down and it felt so good to just sob, shamelessly blubber.
Chelsea’s arm swooped around her shoulders, her hand pressed into the side of Maybelle’s hair, gently guiding her head until it laid comfortably on Chelsea’s shoulder as the sobs continued to come. Chelsea’s fingers brushed through her tangled hair hushing her calmly, holding her up. Holding her up the way Stephanie Mason had once held Chelsea, completely accepting, and so lovingly.
A way only a mother would hold her daughter.
