Love Is Enough

by Emma Easter

  He grinned, wrapped her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “We kiss in public a lot. Maybe it should be our thing; then we can make the neighbors constantly jealous.”

  Her pulse raced. It sounded like he was saying they would be married and living here soon.

  She forced the thought from her mind and pushed him away, laughing.

  They cooked together. She gave him directions on how to cut the ingredients for the stir fry while she cooked the rice. They prepared the entire dish in forty minutes and then sat at the dining table, eating and chatting. They reminisced over all they had done together throughout his stay. They talked about their patrols through the city together and talked some more about their past and family members. She threaded her fingers through his, glancing perpetually at the clock, wishing she could stop the time from ticking on.

  But the time kept going until the clock struck eleven. It was time for her to take him to the airport.

  She heaved a sad sigh as he stood.

  “Come here, my love,” he said to her.

  She went to him, and he hugged her. After a long moment, she pulled back and said, “We have to leave for the airport now, or you’ll be late for your flight.”

  As she drove, he talked about the new buildings that had sprung up in Rosefield within the past few months. She knew he was trying to avoid any conversation about his leaving, but there was no avoiding it. He was leaving, and things would not be the same for either of them.

  When they reached the airport, she waited for him to check in.

  After he had, he turned to her. “So, this is it then,” he said.

  She took in a deep breath so she wouldn’t break down and then gave him a big smile. “Yep!” she replied almost shouting.

  “I’ll call immediately when I get to Miami, I promise.”

  She nodded. “I’ll love you forever.”

  He put his hand on her cheek and said, “I’ll love you always. Remember that.”

  They held hands until it was time for him to go. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes as he walked away.

  He turned again and said, “I’ve loved every minute with you. Remember, we still have many more.” He blew her a kiss, turned around again and walked away.

  She watched him until he was out of sight and then hurried out of the airport. When she got to her car, she put her head on the steering wheel and let the tears fall down her face.

  *****

  Sienna stood in front of the camera with her hands propped on her hips. The set for the photo shoot was decorated to look like a plush living room, and she had to use some of the furniture as props. Andy, the photographer, took a shot and then told her to change her pose. She placed a foot on the cream sofa and tilted her head back.

  “No. Lean against the wall and look over your shoulder,” he said, adjusting his camera for the next shot.

  She pursed her lips and turned only slightly, uneasy about fully exposing her backside to the camera. She was wearing barely-there lingerie, and she felt extremely uncomfortable.

  Andy gave a loud sigh of frustration and straightened. “What’s wrong, Sienna? You’ve not been following my instructions. “Take a look at this,” he said and showed her the camera roll. “You look like you are about to run out of here any minute now.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I love photographing you because you take directions really well. Usually, it doesn’t take more than a few hours to get great shots of you. Today, however, you seem out of sorts. Are you sure you are well enough to come back to work?”

  She winced as she looked at the pictures. She did look frightened. Nora, the lingerie designer, had paid good money to have her pieces showcased in the best light. None of these pictures came close to doing that. In fact, all of them were unusable.

  Sienna shook her head and then asked him, “Can I have a minute, please?”

  He looked around the studio. Fortunately, Nora wasn’t around today. He nodded. “Okay, but you have to be quick. The shoot is supposed to end an hour from now. This place is already expensive to rent, and Nora will have to pay more if we go over the set time.”

  Sienna nodded. She shrugged on the silk robe hanging on the sofa, strode to the dressing room a few feet away from the set and sat heavily in front of the mirror. This was the second lingerie shoot she’d had since Bryan left. The first one had been just as emotionally taxing, and she’d gone home feeling awful.

  Today, she felt utterly incapable of going on. She exhaled as she began to feel the familiar anxiety start to work its way through her. The condemning voice whispered its usual words of doom, and for a short moment, terror overwhelmed her. And then she whispered the prayer that Bryan had taught her. “The Lord loves me, and I am his,” she said.

  She spoke it over and over again, letting it settle in her heart even though everything in her screamed that it was a lie. Gradually, the panic attack and woeful feeling subsided, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  She pressed her lips together and then whispered again, “Lord, I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t want to be a lingerie and bikini model anymore. Please help me find a way out.”

  She felt trapped. As much as she wanted to honor her contract with the agency, the revulsion she felt every time she had to put on revealing lingerie and pose in front of the camera wasn’t going away. It was getting stronger. She had been asking God to help her find a way out of the contract, but so far, her prayers had not been answered.

  Andy hollered from outside the dressing room, “Sienna, we need to continue the shoot.”

  She silently cried out, “Please, Lord, I can’t do this anymore. I need your help. What do I do?”

  The three-year contract with her agency was unbreakable. Unless the Lord intervened, there would be no escape. As the doorknob turned, she stood, feeling defeated.

  Andy came in. “I’m sorry, Sienna, we need to go on with the photo shoot.”

  She nodded and started to follow him. As she stood in front of the camera again, her heart pounding, she heard a gentle whisper in her heart, “Ask him about it.” She blinked in surprise. The voice sounded like it might be the Lord’s, but as she had never heard God’s audible voice before, she wasn’t sure it was.

  She considered obeying for a minute and then changed her mind. Andy was just a photographer. How could he possibly know how to get her out of her iron-clad contract with Surge?

  She looked up at him. He was tapping his feet, staring impatiently at her.

  What would it hurt if you asked him?

  She shut her eyes and exhaled. It was true. What was the worst thing that could happen? He would say he didn’t know. That was it.

  “Sienna, what are you doing?”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was scowling at her. She said, “Andy, do you know how a model can get out of an iron-clad contract? I don’t think I want to keep modeling anymore, but I don’t know how to get out of my contract with Surge Models.”

  He looked at her as if she was plumb crazy and then he shrugged. “I don’t understand why you would want to get out of modeling when it pays so well.”

  She shrugged. “I just want out.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds and then said, “You just said you’re signed to Surge Models?”

  “Yes.”

  He raised his brows. “I guess some people aren’t cut out for the cut-throat fashion industry. I think I know someone who might be able to help you. I’m not totally sure he can get you out of your contract, but I’ll call him. I’ll let him know one of my favorite models wants to see him.”

  She held her breath as he got out his phone from his pocket, dialed a number and waited. He walked away with his phone to his ear while she prayed it would work out.

  Andy came back and looked at her. “He says he’ll have to take a look at the contract. He is an entertainment lawyer, and his office is at Hudson Square.” Andy got a pen and paper and wrote out the man’s name and office address fo
r her. “We can postpone your shoot until tomorrow evening and see if my friend can help you,” he said.

  She hugged him. “Thank you so much, Andy. I hope it works.”

  He shrugged. “If it does, I think it’ll be such a shame because you are a great model. I wish you the best, though.”

  *****

  The next day, Sienna drove to Hudson Square and found the address Andy had given her.

  She stepped into the large industrial building which had several offices in it. Quickly finding the law firm, she entered and told the attractive brunette at the front desk that she had an appointment with the Entertainment lawyer, Chris Peyton. She was glad when the girl immediately led her to the lawyer’s office.

  She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and silently prayed before she entered. The office was surprisingly modern, completely different from the old building it was located in. It was all glass and steel with two large metallic figurines and a potted cactus.

  Chris Peyton, a slightly built man behind a huge desk, looked up at her. “Sienna Gardner?”

  “Yes.” He motioned for her to take a seat and she did. She said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he replied. He looked intently at her. “Andy told me you want to get out of your contract?”

  She nodded and told him about her three-year contract with her agency and about her decision to leave now. When he asked for a copy of the contract, she handed it to him, and he read through it for a minute. He looked up and told her the contract looked inflexible, just like she knew. “I only see one termination clause here, but I hardly think it applies to you.”

  He shook his head and said, “It states that if you are physically or mentally impaired in a way that absolutely prevents you from continuing your job, you may be released from the contract. But that’s subject to an official medical or psychiatrist report. which the agency will have to validate.”

  His eyes assessed her. “You look pretty healthy to me, so I don’t think that will work for you. I think you may be stuck in your agency.”

  She frowned. “So, in other words, I have to have a life-threatening illness or be straight-up crazy before they let me go?”

  “Pretty much.” He replied with a straight face.

  She remembered the doctor at Benedict memorial, the hospital where she had been taken after her suicide attempt, had given her a referral to see a particular psychiatrist. She had put the letter away, never dreaming of going to see a shrink. Now, maybe she would have to.

  She squirmed in her chair, unwilling to talk about her suicide attempt or explore her horrible anxiety attacks again. However, she had no choice. She told the lawyer everything.

  After she finished, he nodded, his expression even. He said to her, “If you can get a psych report that proves you are mentally incompetent, and that the anxiety arising from your modeling jobs partly drove you to the suicide attempt, they might let you go.”

  She pressed her lips tightly together. But it will take such a long time before I’m diagnosed, Lord. I’ll still have to go on modeling until then.”

  A Bible verse popped into her mind. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass. She exhaled and stood. “Thank you so much.”

  Once she got home, she emptied all her purses, searching for the referral letter. At last, she found it in an old Marc Jacob’s bag and quickly left her apartment again. She drove to Benedict memorial. The hospital was busy with nurses, doctors, and patients everywhere. She found the psych ward, hurried to the reception desk, and told the young lady there that she wanted to see Dr. Samir, the psychiatrist she’d been referred to.

  “Please sit,” the woman said after she had looked at Sienna’s referral letter.

  Sienna glanced around the place as she sat. Unlike the main hospital waiting area, which was noisy and overrun with people, this place was quiet. There were only two other patients here.

  After about thirty minutes, a nurse waved her into the psychiatrist’s office. A slim man with black hair and a bushy beard looked up and smiled at her as she entered.

  “Please sit,” he said. When she did, he added, “So, why have you come to see me today?”

  He listened without interrupting as she told him about her mental and emotional challenges for the past year, leaving nothing out. After she finished, she prayed silently for a quick diagnosis even though it was a long stretch.

  He nodded and began to scribble something down. She was surprised but grateful when he said, “Hmm, I had a patient today with almost the exact same symptoms. I think I can safely say you have OCD, religious OCD to be precise. I need to have a few more sessions with you to give you a comprehensive diagnosis, but this is most likely the cause of your severe anxiety attacks.” He asked, “When last did you have an attack and how serious was it?”

  She thought about the question for a long moment. Since she started confessing acknowledging God’s unconditional love for her daily, she hardly ever had the attacks. When she did, it left quickly, as soon as she repeatedly spoke God’s word of love over herself. She looked at him. If she told him that, though, would he still give her a diagnosis or declare her now mentally fit?

  Trust in the Lord, she heard in her heart. She decided to tell him the truth.

  After she did, he said, “You are a Christian.”

  She slowly nodded.

  He grinned. “I am a Christian too. I’ve seen many people cured of religious OCD through confessions like yours. I use confessions alongside proven medical treatments and medication to help my patients. You are saying you have not had a major attack since you started your confessions?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll still give you a general evaluation, but I think you are on your way to getting completely cured.”

  She decided to tell him about her modeling dilemma. When she finished, he said, “The modeling definitely contributes to your crises. I think you would be right in leaving, especially with your suicide attempt.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Let me write you a recommendation letter that you can show your agency.”

  While she watched, he wrote hastily on a long piece of paper that had the hospital’s emblem on it. After he finished, he gave it to her.

  She read his note; amongst other things, it said,

  . . . the patient has a debilitating disorder known as religious OCD. It is triggered by a number of things . . . In this patient’s case, her triggers include the articles of clothing she has to wear at her job. The patient has tried to hurt herself before. Continuing her present job might lead her to try again. My recommendation is that she discontinues modeling and focuses on getting well . . .

  Sincerely

  Dr. SamirMani, Psy.D.

  She stared at him, completely overcome with emotion and tongue-tied. The Lord had done another miracle for her using this dear man. “Thank you so much, Dr. Samir,” she finally said. “This means a lot to me.”

  He smiled warmly, “It’s nothing. And I think you’ve reaffirmed my belief in the power of God’s word.”

  She left his office with a huge smile on her face.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trisha opened the door and walked into Audrey’s, fuming. She dropped her purse on the coffee table, cradled her growing belly and lowered herself on the sofa. She kicked off her ballet flats and put up her feet.

  Audrey came into the living room. “Trish, you’re back from court. How did it go this time?”

  Trisha shut her eyes and exhaled, trying to contain her anger. “I am so tired of all this. First, Stan tried evading the divorce papers, and then he contested the divorce. Imagine, he had the guts to contest it, even though he committed adultery repeatedly.”

  Audrey sat beside her. “So, what is the court saying now that you’ve filed for a no-fault divorce?”

  “Stan!” Trisha spat out. “We’ve been ordered to go for marriage counseling because according to Stan, ‘we have no irreconcilable differen
ces!’ As if counseling will help that man. He’s sick, Audrey! He can’t stop cheating.” Trisha snorted. “I don’t know why he can’t get it into his thick skull that I’m not budging this time. This divorce will happen no matter what he does.”

  Audrey shook her head. “He thinks you are still that wide-eyed teenager he married. The one who would let him get away with whatever he does. He’s been trying to get you to change your mind since you filed for this divorce months ago.”

  Trisha sighed, weary of it all. “Can we talk about something less annoying? You spoke with Ken again today, didn’t you? Have you guys finally come up with a plan to see each other that works for both your schedules?”

  Audrey gave a sad smile. “Not yet. For now, he still has that ongoing homicide case and can’t get away from work. And since I was made police chief, I haven’t been able to either.” Her expression turned wistful. “I miss him so much, it hurts.”

  Trisha felt a thread of envy go through her. She was happy for her sister, but her own relationship was basically over. She brushed the jealous feeling aside and said, “I know you guys will soon find a way. The reunion will be all that much sweeter when you do.”

  Audrey replied, “I guess so.” The doorbell rang, and she frowned wondering who it could be. She stood and went to open the door.

  Trisha turned to see who it was. When Audrey yelled, “You can’t come into my house!” and started to shut the door, Trisha blinked, wondering who it was.

  “I just want to see my wife! Trish, if you are there, please I just want a minute. Please!”

  Trish narrowed her eyes in anger.

  Stan!

  She stood slowly and went to the door. Audrey and Stan were still struggling. Audrey was pushing the door, trying to get it closed, while Stan stuck his foot and head into it.

  “I’ll soon arrest you for breaking and entering, Stan!” Audrey said.

  “I don’t care. I need to see Trish.”

  Trish put her hand on Audrey’s shoulder. “Please let me handle this, Audrey. Thanks.”

  Audrey looked at her. “Are you sure?”