Temper for You

by Genna Rulon

  “What about Griffin…or Hunter?”

  “I said ‘typical man’ and neither of them are anything close to typical—they are exceptional. That’s not to say they don’t occasionally have ‘typical man’ moments, but those are few and far between, which is why we keep them around,” Sam explained. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I answered honestly.

  “Are you going to be?”

  “Will I live? Yes. Will I ever get over him? Probably not. Will I find a way to be happy without him? I don’t know…maybe.”

  “You love him,” Sam surmised. It was not a question, it was a conclusion.

  “I don’t know, maybe. I’ve never been in love before. I feel like someone gutted me with a rusty hunting knife, and when I saw him with that bimbo, I wanted to blind myself and perform an at-home lobotomy after cryogenically freezing my heart until science found a way to remove the pain of losing the person you want most. Is that love?”

  “I actually think that’s the textbook definition, so yeah, I’d say you love him,” Sam verified my worst fear.

  “Great—story of my life. I never wanted love, never looked for it, even went out of my way to avoid it by hooking up with the king of all no-strings playboys. And what did I do? Fell in love with the bastard, then drove him away with my fears and omissions.”

  “I’d say you’re being overly dramatic, but that’s actually a pretty apt description of events.”

  I nodded my agreement and slumped to the couch in defeat.

  “You need to be distracted?” she asked as she headed toward the kitchen.

  I nodded again, but she must have been watching me because she continued, “Can do.” Returning from the kitchen, she handed me an entire bar of chocolate and a glass of wine. “So who came into the shop tonight?”

  “Mark. Totally out of the blue. He invited me to his office party on the twelfth. Weird, right? I wanted to say no, because I wasn’t into him before and I’m definitely not up for anyone now. But he mentioned I hadn’t returned his calls and then I felt guilty, so…” I trailed off.

  “So you said yes and are now going on a date with boring Mark, the ADA,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Megalicious, I’ve heard of getting back on the horse, but you’re going from stallion to pony. Not exactly an upgrade.”

  “I’m not riding any horses. I’ve thrown my spurs away. Burned my cowboy boots. Buried my hat. This is a guilt date, not the start of a new relationship,” I explained.

  “No—this is Mark wanting to take you to bed and bore you to death.”

  “He can want until the cows come home, but this bovine is not on the auction block. I’m off the market—permanently.”

  The rest of my week was spent at the library, lost in books and journal articles in preparation for next week’s finals. I wanted to ace every test to prove my worth to Dr. Mesina and the rest of the faculty, especially following the controversy regarding my thesis. This goal required complete focus while studying, which also happened to provide my only escape from the ache in my still-bleeding heart.

  It had only been a few days since I’d witnessed the cruelest revenge any woman could suffer—immediate replacement. Perhaps my expectations were too high, but any hope that the tidal wave of misery would recede was soon dashed. In fact, my suffering increased each day, the loss becoming more pronounced. The lacerations on my heart festered, multiplying the pain ten-fold and preventing healing.

  The only grace I could claim was that I had not seen Wes since Tuesday’s fiasco. I knew he was fucking away his memories of me in the arms of a bevy of bimbos, but at least I wasn’t witness to any more of his trysts.

  By Friday afternoon, I hit the proverbial wall, unable to absorb one more fact or figure. I headed home for what I was sure would be another fruitless attempt at sleep, surprised to find Hunter’s car in the driveway when I arrived. There was no doubt as to why Hunter was at Sam’s house during working hours—my time had run out.

  I’d avoided poor Hunter like the plague this week. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe my success was a result of skill or luck, but rather his patience, which had seemingly run out.

  “Hi, Hunter,” I called as I entered the house. “I see you’ve tracked me down. Took you long enough,” I taunted impishly.

  “You know damn well I was allowing you to come to me when you were ready,” he replied from the great room.

  “How’s that working for you so far?” I jested as I approached the couch.

  “About as well as I anticipated,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of my head.

  It was yet another uncharacteristic display of affection from one of my friends. Oh, they were plenty demonstrative with one another, but they usually curbed their inclinations for my benefit. Unaccustomed to affection, hugs from friends felt unnatural and made me self-conscious. It would seem the gang had decided it was time for exposure therapy.

  “Let’s sit down. There are a few things we need to talk about,” Hunter began. Once I was seated, he continued, “I know your finals are next week and I’m concerned that delving into the past might interfere with your performance. After speaking with the Assistant Deputy Director, we’ve agreed to postpone the official interview until the Monday following your exams. I’ve made sure Ev schedules you off for Monday through Wednesday of that week, and Sam called Thia to make sure she could move your appointment to the afternoon after the interview.”

  I stared at him, mouth gaping like a fish on the line.

  “I may have taken some liberties given our personal relationship,” he continued, an acknowledgement of his actions but not an apology.

  “I’m not sure how to respond to this,” I said, completely flustered by his invasion of privacy but touched by his concern and care. Certain his heart was in the right place, I decided to focus on his alpha-male version of nurturing. “Thank you for trying to make this easier for me. It was…thoughtfully intrusive, but I appreciate the effort.”

  “Good, I was hoping you’d see my intentions instead of my methods,” he said with an all-too-pleased smile. “The reason I’m here today is to let you know I’ve read the reports and interviews the FBI obtained from Hensley—yours included.”

  The silence echoed yet I said nothing.

  “Hun, I had no clue and I hate myself for not helping you sooner. Why didn’t you come to me? You had to know I was your best chance at lasting freedom and setting the situation to rights. Don’t you trust me?” he asked, visibly wounded by my silence.

  “Hunter, of course I trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t come forward sooner. I was afraid for myself, and I didn’t want to put any of you at risk either. Deep down, I knew they’d find me one day. But if anything had happened to you guys because my family—”

  “Do not call them that. They are not your family—we are,” Hunter interrupted, fiercely claiming me as one of their own. My throat tightened and tears threatened to fall from the love and acceptance he offered.

  “Yes, you are my family, and if they had hurt any of you I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I was trying to protect everyone—especially you, because I knew you wouldn’t rest until you fixed all of my problems and that would put you on their radar.”

  “I can see where you were coming from,” he acknowledged my point, “but you were dead-ass wrong. We were all at risk as soon as you became a part of our lives, even when you were only an employee of Higher Yearning—I see that face, step back on the platform, away from the guilt train,” Hunter ordered, correctly ascertaining my reaction. “What do you think would have happened if they’d shown up to take you back and one of us was around? It doesn’t matter if it occurred a year ago or today, the results would be the same: Ev would end up dispatching every Krav Maga defense move she could think of, Griffin would have another ‘Hulk’ episode, I would have shot the bastards, and Sam…I loath to think what Sam would have done. There would have been no stopping us in our defense of you. The only difference is—had we known—we w
ould have been prepared. We were all lucky that they didn’t arrive earlier. With surprise on their side, someone might have been seriously injured…and we’ve all had enough time in and around hospitals.”

  Holy shit! How could I have overlooked the risk I’d subjected them to by keeping them ignorant of the threat? What a fool! If anything had happened…I couldn’t even bear to think of it.

  “You’re right. I never thought about the danger of you all not knowing. I’m sorry, Hunter, it seems every time I try and do what my heart says it right, I make the situation a hundred times worse,” I confessed, the tear that had threatened finally falling.

  “No, you don’t, hun. You did the best you could and you survived when you had no choice but to do it alone. Your only mistake was not asking for help when it was finally available to you. We love you and we want to help you—up until now, none of us knew how, other than to accept you as you were and hope you’d open up eventually. But everyone’s patience with waiting has run out, so you can expect a full-on assault to break down those walls. Keep in mind, all of their plotting is well underway and they don’t even know an eighth of what I do. I don’t envy the unadulterated TLC you’re going to receive once you ‘fess up—if you thought they were bad after you were shot, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  “Oh shit,” I groaned, recognizing the truth in his words.

  “For my part, I’ve already started the necessary paperwork to establish your identity—your legal identity,” he chided teasingly, “and you’ll need to decide if you want to keep the name ‘Meg Adeio’ or not.”

  “Do I have time to decide?”

  “A couple weeks. The FBI will have to finalize your interview, which will be included as supporting documentation to the petition to establish your identity.”

  “Thanks, Hunter—for everything.”

  "Fear cannot be banished, but it can be calm and without panic; it can be mitigated by reason and evaluation." -Vannevar Bush

  Meg

  The weekend passed in a blur of studying and overly solicitous friends. Hunter’s prediction was spot-on; Sam, Ev, and Griffin may not have known details, but they knew something substantial was happening beyond just my breakup with Wes. Ev suspected Hunter was in the know and I’m not sure who I pitied more, Hunter or myself—though at least Hunter could hide out at work when the heat was on.

  There was no escape for me. Sam stuffed me full of food, Ev brought me chocolate, and Griffin observed me with astute eyes, occasionally asking an insightful question that begged an equally insightful response. I was never alone in the house, and when I tried to escape under the guise of needing more index cards for review purposes, Ev magically produced a list of much needed office supplies to justify accompanying me. I suspected Hunter alerted the crew to be vigilant without offering specifics.

  The weekend was full of so many expectant looks and long pauses mid-conversation, it was verging on comical. It was obvious they were starved for my secrets and the hunger was growing ravenous. Several times I caught Griffin whispering sternly to Ev or Sam, which I deduced was him urging them to exercise patience—not generally one of their strengths.

  I was forced to put my foot down when Sam tried to escort me to Thia’s office for my appointment. It was a beautiful Monday morning in spite of the overcast skies, and for the first time in three days I was blessedly alone. Even the daunting prospect of baring myself to Thia didn’t rain on my parade…until I approached the door to her office.

  At that point, trepidation consumed me. My hand trembled as I reached for the knob, the tremors making it nearly impossible to turn the handle. After several inelegant fumbles, I managed to enter the waiting area, where I stood like a statue despite Thia’s calls for me to come in.

  I couldn’t do it.

  I couldn’t unearth the skeletons I’d long ago buried. I couldn’t withstand the shame and degradation stemming from the first eighteen years of my life. Without the fleshy cover of the last seven years, what remained was vile and abhorrent and—if exposed—would cost me the respect and love of those that mattered most.

  I couldn’t do it. Not if the cost was exposing my true self to my new family and risk losing them. I’d rather live a lie than be alone again.

  Suddenly, I was unable to breathe, my chest tight and pained like I had been struck by a freight train. Clawing at my neck to fight the choking sensation that overwhelmed me, my heart rate increased beyond anything I’d ever achieved during my most intense workouts. I was dizzy and near fainting when the realization struck that I was going to die. Unable to breathe or call for help, there was nothing I could do to prevent the inevitable. Death would come for me—as I always knew it would—and I would face it, scared and alone. It was no more than I deserved after the life I’d led, but my countless regrets would follow me to the grave, where we would lie beside the skeletons I had buried.

  Distraught, I didn’t hear or notice Thia’s approach until she ushered me into her office and sat me on the couch.

  “Meg, I want you to hold your breath while I count back from ten. When I reach one, you’re going to take a slow, deep breath until your lungs are completely full and then exhale, slowly and completely. Ready?”

  I nodded franticly, my mind latching onto the simple instructions, my body complying until we had repeated the exercise three times.

  “Good girl. Keep breathing, just like that. Deep breath in, filling your lungs completely, slow exhale out. I also want you to count back from one hundred by threes in your mind…100, 97, 94…there you go, keep going.”

  Drenched in sweat and shaking near convulsion, I struggled to maintain the deliberate, even breaths but found the distraction of counting helped. My heart returned to its normal rate after several minutes passed, but in its wake was a skull-splitting headache and bone-deep exhaustion.

  “What was that?” I asked hoarsely.

  Handing me tissues to address the tears streaming down my face, Thia gently patted my back.

  “That was a panic attack,” she replied definitively. “A textbook example, actually. How were you feeling today before coming to the office?”

  “Great. I was enjoying the alone time after being smothered with love and concern all weekend. I didn’t feel anxious until I was about to enter the office and then…” I trailed off, embarrassed by my freak-out.

  “And then you were forced to confront the reality of why you’re here. What were you thinking during the attack? It’s clear the trigger was your apprehension about opening up in our session—again, completely typical and nothing to be embarrassed about. To be frank, it’s so ordinary I’m almost disappointed in you. I had such high hopes that you would pose a challenge. You know, break up the monotony every therapist is subjected to day in and day out,” she said, shaking her head. “Everyone has a case of I-am-a-mess-and-no-one-could-ever-love-me. You’d be shocked by how similar all you humans are. So much unwarranted pain, shame, regret, and anger…although I shouldn’t complain. If people didn’t torture themselves with misplaced guilt or blame themselves for circumstances beyond their control, I wouldn’t have a shiny new boat to enjoy during the summer. But I digress…where were we? Right, you were about to tell me what was running through your mind during the panic attack.”

  I blinked in shock. My head hurt too badly to fully process everything she’d just said, but I’m fairly certain there were several none-to-subtle messages directed at me in her random tirade.

  “It’s a bit fuzzy now. For the most part, I was terrified. I thought I was dying.”

  “Textbook. What about immediately before the thoughts of dying?” she prompted.

  “I was getting ready to leave. I can’t do this, Thia. I can’t take off the mask and show what’s beneath. They won’t want me anymore…they won’t love me. You don’t understand. I don’t want to lose them…I can’t be alone again. I can’t, I can’t, I—”

  “Shh, you’re fine, Meg. Let’s take another deep breath…good, hold it…and let it
out, nice and slow. Good…now again,” Thia coached.

  Several breaths later, I felt the tightness in my chest ease slightly and the tension in my shoulders soften. Grabbing more tissues from the box, I proceeded to wipe my soggy face—yet again.

  “I am going to make you a promise; we will not talk about your past today or whatever it is you are afraid to share. Moreover, if you give me a few minutes to assign your homework, I’ll let you head home to rest—you’re going crash hard after the adrenaline rush from the attack. Deal?”

  Immediately calmed by her promise not to delve into my past, I nodded quickly before she could change her mind.

  Thia’s throaty chuckle told me she was onto me.

  “For your homework, I want you to think about the following before our next appointment…wait, when is your last final?”

  “Wednesday afternoon,” I answered.

  “Okay, I want you to think about the following before our appointment this Wednesday at seven pm. Also, I’m going to text Griffin and Sam to come get you—it’s not safe for you to drive at the moment. Deal?”

  I didn’t think I had a choice in the matter so I nodded my agreement.

  “Good,” Thia said, already mid-text.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing me a notebook and pen. “I wouldn’t want you to forget anything, so jot these down:

  1. Who told you that your life is less valuable than anyone else’s?

  2. Who told you that you are unworthy of love?

  3. You’re allowing these lessons to govern your life, relationships, and future. Have you ever considered if the source is trustworthy?

  Thia paused, allowing me to finish writing down her rapid-fire questions before resuming.

  4. What might you gain personally, professionally, and psychologically by discussing your past with me to understand how it has shaped you and to what degree it influences your future?