by Jade Eby
How had I never heard of this? It sounds incredible. "Wow."
"I bet Emily is gonna be in a good mood tonight," Faye says.
"Isn't she always?" I ask.
Everyone nods and laughs. Emily walks through the doors several minutes later, a smile plastered on her face.
"Ladies! Tonight is a good night. I'm changing up the discussion plan. Given the recent news of our dear friend Parker who is now safe, secure and away from her abuser, I'd like to take some time tonight to talk about the future. Goals. Dreams. Aspirations. We tend to use this group to delve into our pasts. Our demons and ghosts. But it's important to remember that we all deserve a bright future, too. Anyone like to start?"
I stand up quickly. I've come to rely on these women as sounding boards. Voices of reason outside of Carla. If there's something troubling me, they're the first ones I go to.
"My therapist wants me to sell my house. Well she doesn't want me to per say, but she pretty much alluded to the fact that if I want to survive on the income I have coming in, that's what needs to go."
"What do you think about that?" Emily asks.
"I… don't know. I mean, it's been my home for the last seven years. It's been a place of joy and horror and sanctuary. I don't know what I'd do without my neighbor, Rose. I don't know where I'd go."
"It's kind of like losing your husband, right? Like you want to go, but you're scared?" One of the newer girls to the group asks.
"Yes! Exactly like that. I guess it's just hard to think about living anywhere else."
"But it was hard imagining living without your husband and now you're doing it," Emily points out.
"I guess I kind of have to if I want to move forward? To follow my dreams?"
"And what are those dreams?" Emily prods.
I don't know the answer to that. It makes me feel stupid that I have every opportunity in the world now and I have no idea what to do with it. "I haven't gotten that far yet. I know I want to do… something. Go back to school? Find a career and not just a job I love. Find someone who loves me the way I deserve to be loved. Is that too many dreams?"
Emily and the girls laugh. "You can never have too many dreams, Tawny. Don't let anyone ever tell you anything different."
I get that. But at the same time, it's overwhelming to want all these things. To see other people working toward them with purpose and direction. I want that too.
"You know we have resources available to help with continuing education, right? We can get you hooked up with some of our contacts?"
I can't help the smile that extends across my face. "Really?"
Emily nods. "Talk to Kenya after the meeting. She'll tell you how well it works."
"Thank you," I say, sitting down, taking in everything that just happened. This group has a way of lightening the load I carry every day. Through stories and inspiration, I find myself getting to a place where I've always wanted to be.
A place where I'm exactly who I should be.
I want more than anything to make others feel that same way.
Chapter 8
February - 2010
Turns out, there are more people willing to buy a house that was involved in a murder if they can get it for dirt-cheap. My realtor lowered the price four times before we saw any movement and then it was like a damn flood. Offers coming in left and right.
I didn't care as long as I broke even.
Rose brings over another set of boxes. "You doing okay?"
"Define okay," I say.
"You know what I mean," she says.
I shrug. "I haven't gotten to the hard part yet."
"You want me to stay here and keep you company?"
I shake my head. "This is something I need to do myself."
"I understand," she says, backing out the front door. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."
A lot of the big things are already gone. Purchased by over-eager buyers looking for someone selling shit at a cheap price. I didn't care about getting my money's worth. I just wanted it gone. Out of sight, out of mind.
Now it's the little things, the pieces of our broken lives I have to put away, give away or throw away. I was tempted to tell someone to come in and demolish everything. Just trash it. I won't it need it where I'm going. But Carla thought this process would be therapeutic for me. Cathartic to physically choose what I am going to carry with me in my new life. She's all about choices.
His clothes that still lay in a heap on our bedroom floor go into a plastic bag. I don't bother getting sentimental with them this time. That bag goes into the throw-away pile.
Decorations, picture frames and everything used to make this our house a home - goes in the give away pile.
Dishes, cookware and baking things are coming with me.
Trinkets and loose ends - garbage.
When I go back to our bedroom to see what's left, a leather-bound book lays on the ground, left behind from the dresser drawers.
I know exactly what it is. The same album I looked at the day I killed Carter. The album that holds memories of a time I want to remember as happy but is tainted with warning flags I should have seen.
I trace the outlines of our bodies in the first picture. My flowing white gown. His sharp suit. My smile and his.
Saying goodbye to the room I tuck the album under my arm. In the living room, I step between the keep and throw away piles. I want to keep it. I really do. To remind me of what we had. But does it really change anything? Will looking at it in ten or twenty years bring back something I'm not prepared to handle? Will it spark a longing in me to remember or to forget?
I bend down and put it in the throw away pile. The last piece of evidence that we were us. That once upon a time I looked at him with a loving smile.
I throw away one of the last parts of me that keep my heart entwined with his.
When I stand up, I look at the empty room. The vessel of a relationship that was once good and turned so bad.
A house that contains more memories than I'll ever be able to shove away and forget and I know, I'm ready for what's next.
Yes, you are.
He's still with me. He always will be.
May - 2010
Without a house to care for, and only a tiny apartment added to my expenses - I am free to move forward with my dreams. It took me a while to figure out what that was, but once I did, Emily and Kenya helped me register at the local college. I was finally doing something entirely for myself. Not out of obligation for Carter.
Now I'm three months into my first semester of college and wishing I would have paid more attention in high school. Going back to school at twenty eight when everyone else around is barely old enough to legally drink is challenging. They look at me like I'm old and stupid. Most are either young enough or too self-involved to realize who I am. It's not like I would tell them anyway.
I've worked my ass off to come back from that part of my life. And going to college is by far one of the hardest I've had to do. Attending support group seems easy as pie compared to this now.
I wait for my study group at the local Starbucks, judging the bakery items in their case. Every item in there should be swapped out with one of my creations, but I don't think they'd be interested in hearing my opinions.
"Hey, Tawny!"
I look toward the voice and see one of my classmates coming toward me. "Hi, Jacobi." He's my favorite one in the study group. A nice young man with a good head on his shoulders. He'll go far, I can just see it in him.
"How's it going?" he asks.
"Oh you know, just trying to prep for the big Psych test next week."
He sighs. "Dr. Bo is a slave driver. I don't know how I'm going to pass this test."
"Thanks, Jacobi. That fills me with such confidence," I say.
He laughs and it's sweet. Youthful. "Don't worry, with me as a study partner, you'll be fine."
"You sure your head fit through the door when you came in?"
He smirks. "Want
a coffee or something? My treat."
"That's nice, but no. I have to work at four am."
"Oh, okay. Cool," he says and walks to the counter.
It's been so long since I was in a position to be flirted with, if that's what he is even doing. And I can't say that I don't like the attention he usually spares only for me during these times. But I can't ever get past the feeling that a part of me is still married to Carter. That even though he's gone, my heart is fastened to his, and no matter who I meet, nothing can break that chain.
I mean, I'm human. I have urges and needs but they go unfilled because I'm not ready for them to be filled by anyone but myself. I can't bring myself to take it further than that.
Jacobi comes back with some huge frozen monstrosity and slurps it down. I shake my head. Kids these days.
"Where do you work?"
His question throws me off guard. "Huh?"
"You said you have to work at four am. That's pretty early. Do you secretly work here and none of us know it?"
I laugh. "No. I bake cakes and pastries at Monica's."
He looks stunned. "Seriously? That's like, the best bakery in town. You must be pretty good."
I shrug. "I'm okay."
"Oh I get it. You're being modest because I'm so humble," he jokes. "But really, why aren't you opening up your own bakery shop or something?"
"I guess I want to do something that has more meaning than baking cakes. I want to help people. Change the world, you know?"
"Let me tell you, the chocolate truffles at Monica's are pretty damn life-changing. I don't know how much more you want to change the world than that."
This kid is going to make a great husband. Charming, attractive and one hundred percent out of my reach.
"You're too sweet. But enough about me. Let's make sure we ace this test so I don't have to grovel for Dr. Bo to pity-pass me. I'm too old for that shit."
"You're only as young as you feel," Jacobi says, winking.
Oh Jesus. If he only knew.
August- 2010
If I wasn't so determined to get my Psychology degree and help others - I think I'd have a future in the food industry. Monica asked me to work a huge catering event where the main attraction would be my red velvet cream cheese cake.
The bride wanted the best flavor I could give her and after several samples, red velvet won out. I had her approval, but I was nail-biting-nervous about what her guests would say.
I look quite dapper in my penguin suit that was tailor made for me. The reception hall is quiet, a calm before the storm. I rush around the cake table, making sure everything looks perfect. In order. One of our staff members sits on a chair, watching me do all the work.
"Lucas. Seriously? You're just going to sit there and watch me do everything?"
He shrugs. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."
"You are getting paid, though?"
He nods. "Then get off your ass and help me with the plates. Jesus. You kids are so damn lazy."
"And you old people are so damn bossy," he says, grabbing plates from our plastic bin. Since when I did become one of those "old people?"
"Yo. Tawny. Where you want these?"
I look at the serving utensils in his hand. "Set them beside the cake, but kind of pushed back behind the tower of napkins."
He throws the utensils on the table and mumbles something about leaving his phone in the van. I shake my head and am thankful, for the moment, that I don't have a wretched thing like that to deal with.
"Excuse me? The bride wanted me to check and make sure everything was being set up correctly in here."
I look up and my breath catches in my throat.
Bridget Monahan stands in front of me, looking every bit as put together and pretty as she did the last time I laid eyes on her at our graduation ceremony. It was the last day I thought I'd ever have to see that tousled blond hair and smug smirk.
"Shit. Tawny?"
I nod. Words evade me, but she pulls me into a hug and that puts me off guard even more.
"I heard what happened. I mean, everyone did. But, oh my God. It's horrible. Seriously. Really, truly awful. I don't think anyone could have guessed Carter would turn out like that."
I force myself to smile. "Thanks, Bridget. That means a lot."
"How are you holding up?"
How does it look like I'm holding up, you crazy bitch? I shut the thought down. No. We've talked about this in group. How people from our past can sometimes come back into it after we've changed. Everyone deserves a second chance. So I'm gonna give Bridget hers.
"Just fine. Getting better every day, thanks for asking."
She beams at me and tears spring to her eyes. "I just want you to know that I really am sorry about everything that happened when we were kids. I was such a bitch. I guess I still am, but I'm trying to be better, you know? Like, it's not easy, but I'm trying."
"It's okay, Bridget. Everything is in the past. We're new people now. How bout we start over?"
She wipes a tear from her cheek. "Really? I'd like that."
"Me too."
"Okay, well, how about we talk later? I need to make sure Hannah isn't drowning herself in alcohol. She's a stupid, sloppy drunk."
I laugh. "Yeah, that's sounds great. See you later." The chances of her coming back are slim to none. Some people change but they never quite lose themselves completely. Bridget will drink herself into a stupor and find an excuse not to talk to me and that's okay. I feel like everything that needed to be said already happened.
She apologized for being… her. And that's all I have ever wanted from her.
March - 2011
"I don't think I've ever seen you look this healthy… or happy," Carla says, not even picking up her steno pad.
She must be sick. Or I'm actually fixed. At least, as fixed as a person like me can be.
I smile at her. "I don't know. I feel really good about things right now."
"Classes are going well?"
I nod. "They're hard. Harder than I ever thought they would be. But I'm working my ass off and getting through them."
"That's great. And you're still at Monica's, right?"
"Yeah. Poor Monica. She wants me to quit school and run the store."
Carla's eyebrow raises and she reaches for her steno pad. Oops. Guess I'm not as fixed as I thought I was. "Is that what you want?"
I shake my head. "No. I mean, sure, there've been times when I work a long week and have to stay up studying for tests and I wonder how I'll get through it and whether or not I should just keep with the bakery. Then I remember I've gone through much harder things than studying. And I know that I want to be where you're sitting, helping people like me. So, no. I don't want to run the bakery. But it's nice that Monica wants me too. Feels good to be appreciated."
"I'm sure it does," Carla says. "And the dreams?"
"Every once in a while, he'll sneak in. Nothing I can't handle now. But there are days when I catch myself reverting back to old habits. Asking for permission out loud when no one's around. There are times I even expect to hear his boots clapping on the tile at night."
Carla nods. "That's all understandable. Losing someone the way you did never goes away completely, as much as one would like it to. It's the aftermath of a bomb… everything explodes and the core is the hottest, most painful part but that doesn't mean the residual heat doesn't still leave burns."
That makes sense. Much like everything else Carla says.
"What about… dating? Have you met anyone recently? Gone on a date?"
I look down at my hands which are free from her pillow. I haven't needed it like a safety blanket in months. My hands itch for it right now though.
"I'm still not ready yet. I just… need some more time."
She scrawls something down on her paper. "Time for what?"
I shrug. "For me. I was with Carter since I was sixteen. Until he was gone - I didn't even know who I was without him. I still don't know who I am. I think
I need to figure that out before I can even think about being with someone else."
"You don't give yourself enough credit, Tawny. You know who you are. You're just afraid to become her. You've made great strides, though."
"I don't understand how I can ever trust another man in that… way, ever again."
"Trust is earned. He will have to earn it just as you will need to earn his. Whoever he ends up being."
I can't see myself with another man for a very long time. I'm finally becoming the woman I've always wanted to be and I don't want anything stopping me from getting there.
"Are you saying I should be dating?" I ask, wondering why she's pushing the issue.
She shakes her head. "I'm not the judge of that. Only you are. It's my job to ask you questions and get an understanding of where your mental health is at. I think it's great that you're putting the focus on yourself and your future. I think that's the most important thing you can do. But I also don't want to see you miss out on a potential healthy relationship out of fear."
"I want to be with someone, someday. Just not right now. I want to be the best version of me before I let someone into my life that intimately."
Carla smiles and looks at the clock. "Then I'd say you're exactly where you should be at, Tawny."
I've waited a long two and a half years to hear those words. I've never felt more sure of who I want to be and where I'm headed.
August - 2011
My apartment floor is littered with text books, papers and notecards. I sprawl out in the middle of it all, thinking maybe, by the mercy of some higher power, all the information will soak into me by osmosis. That everything I need to know for this next test will just appear in my brain.
No such luck.
I flip through the text book looking for an answer to one of the questions on the study guide when my phone rings.