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I reach for my paintbrush and dip it into the paint, letting the colors mix and swirl together on the palette. But when I bring the brush to the canvas, my hand shakes so badly that the paint smears into an ugly mess.
Frustration builds inside of me and I throw the brush across the room. It clatters against the wall, leaving a streak of blue paint in its wake.
I fall to my knees, the tears streaming down my face. This isn't who I am. I'm a painter, an artist. But right now, I feel like a shell of myself.
The creak of the door opening startles me, and I turn to see Teresa standing in the doorway. Her expression is soft and kind, her eyes darting around and taking in the mess I've made. The attic is a makeshift studio at this point, but this is beyond the usual chaos.
This is...
...it's embarrassing.
I swipe the tears away from my cheeks and stand up, chewing on my lip.
"Can I come in?" she asks.
I nod, my throat tight with emotion. "Yeah."
Teresa steps into the room and looks at the canvas, then back at me. "Honey, what's going on? You've been like this for weeks now."
I shake my head, not sure where to start. "I don't know. I just feel like...like I'm not enough. Like I'm not cut out for this life."
Teresa's expression softens and she steps closer, taking my hand in hers. "Piper, you don't have to be perfect. None of us are. We all have our struggles and our doubts. But that doesn't mean we're not worthy of love and happiness."
I sniffle, feeling a glimmer of hope. "But what if I can't handle it? What if I mess up with Hope?"
Teresa smiles gently. "Piper--can I tell you a story?"
I frown, confused. "Of course."
She guides me over to an old bench tucked against the attack wall, the two of us taking a seat. Dust motes float through the air like fireflies, glittering in the light from the first snow.
"Did Jesse ever tell you about his daddy?" Teresa asks.
I bite my lip. "A little bit," I say. "And you said his dad was a bad person."
"Worse than that," Teresa says. "He was an alcoholic. An abuser. To me and to the kids. I stayed with him for years, and I was like this after every baby...unsure if I was doing the right thing. It felt like I was the worst mother of all time, not able to protect them."
I listen intently, feeling a sense of kinship with Teresa. "How did you get through it?"
Teresa takes a deep breath. "It was hard, Piper. It was so hard. But I had to keep reminding myself that I was doing the best I could. That I was making the right choices for my kids, even if they were scary and uncertain. And eventually, I found the strength to leave. To build a life for myself and my children, away from him."
She reaches over and takes my hand. "You are doing the best you can, Piper. And you are not alone. We are all here for you, to support you and guide you. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be you.Youare perfect just the way you are, honey."
I wipe away another tear, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. "Thank you, Teresa. I needed to hear that."
She squeezes my hand. "Anytime, honey. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here for you. We all are."
I nod, feeling grateful for the love and support of Jesse's family. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
Teresa stands up, smoothing down her skirt. "Now, let's clean up this mess and get some hot cocoa. And maybe we can even start a new painting together."
I smile through my tears, feeling a sense of hope for the first time in weeks. "I would like that."
Together, we start to clean up the paint and brushes, the sound of our laughter and conversation filling the quiet attic. And as we sit down with our mugs of hot cocoa, I realize that even though things may be hard right now, I am surrounded by people who love and care for me. And maybe, just maybe, things will get easier with time.
Chapter twenty-two
Piper
