Why is my heart beating faster? My hands are sweaty, and I’m embarrassed. This never happens when I meet one of Sarah’s guys. And I love my husband. Don’t I? I do! Yes, of course I do. I hate him sometimes, but he’s still my husband. I just wish he would treat me with this much class. I wish he would be considerate of me.
“Jelina! I’m going to find a bottle opener” Sarah says, heading to the kitchen with her Pinot Noir. I hope Dylan didn’t catch my teenage crush moment. It would kill me if he saw that, and I hurt his feelings. Sarah gives me a kiss on the cheek and does the same to Helen. “Let the games begin!” she shouts, holding the wine she brought high in the air and taking Helen’s hand, who grabs mine as they fly into the kitchen. I almost drop the orchids when Lily bumps my arm, catching up and following behind our train as our little caboose. I give up on making sure the floors are dry. If we slip, we slip.
The house is filled with color and life. My anxiety is lingering, as I’m soaking everything in: the muffled conversations in other rooms, the smells of hors d'oeuvres mixing with everyone’s colognes and perfumes and shampoos, the guys’ deep voices filling the dining room, and I see Luke and Kyle accepting an invitation to share the new whiskey Dylan wants them to try. The twins are running around. The soundtrack to their existence consists of vacillating between laughing, screaming, and singing, and it all blends in with the background of light jazz music I put on earlier—all while their parents are hiding out in the backyard getting high for a few minutes. It still amazes me that grown adults feel the need to do this. They come over, put the lasagna on the table, and immediately go to the backyard to get high before doing anything. Interesting.
I guess I’m such a control freak, I’ll never understand purposefully doing something to take away my control. Why on earth would anyone want to volunteer to lose control? When I think about my patients, and what’s led a lot of them to alcohol and drug addiction, it makes sense. But when it’s so close to home, and with my friends, sometimes we’re too close to the words to be able to read the story clearly. They walk back in and join Dylan and Luke. Dylan’s playing bartender and pouring glasses of whiskey. I can see their bloodshot eyes from all the way over here, and they’re lounging on our chairs like they’re on vacation for a couple weeks.
Ah, now I get it. The only thing I can relate this to is love and sex. That’s my high and my escape. It gives me the same euphoria that I see on their faces right now. They don’t have a care in the world. The ear-piercing screams of their girls, the energy of them running around the house—it’s all faded into the background as if they’re both wearing headphones: euphoria with a Bob Marley playlist. I can read on their faces that they’re grateful that at least their kids are contained within four walls and possibly have a bunch of other adults to share in the parental responsibilities for a few hours tonight.
Lily has decided against playing with her peers, and is still trailing behind me like my mini shadow as I chat in the kitchen with Helen and Sarah. I don’t blame her. I know she gets excited to see them before they arrive, but those twins are exhausting to even be around, and their parents are in no hurry to spend an ounce of energy taming them. I’m not either, for that matter. Lily will gravitate towards them at her own pace, and when they’ve tired themselves out a bit. I put my arm around her and she nuzzles into me and holds onto my leg.
“So, your attorney seems… sweet,” I say to Sarah.
“Well, that he is,” she replies with a wink. She takes three glasses from the cupboard, and sets them on the granite countertop. Helen is in sync with her, already opening the Pinot Noir.
“Sarah…” I say, giving her a look. She knows I don’t drink.
“Jelina…” she comes over and squeezes me in a tight hug, which is now a group hug with my orchids and Lily, who’s still holding onto my leg. “You know I like teasing you. And what’s one little sip going to do? Come on, it won’t hurt to loosen up a bit.”
“Aww, you guys are adorable,” Helen says, pouring Pinot into all three glasses. She knows they’ll both finish whatever I don’t drink.
I love these girls, but my introversion kicks in with too much physical touch, and right now all my senses are in overdrive. I break free and set the orchids down in the middle of the counter. Sarah helps Lily up onto a barstool, playing with her braid as Lily caresses the soft yellow orchid leaves. She’s simply precious. I open the fridge and pull out the fruit and cheese platters.
“So, how did it happen?” Helen asks. “You just walk into his office to hire him for representation, and instead of paying a retainer, he asks you out on a date?”
“A lady never tells.” Sarah sashays back to the counter, grabbing two glasses and handing one to me.
“So, pretty much,” Helen says and shakes her head. “Unbelievable. And look at him! He’s even more perfect than the last one.”
I set the platter on the counter and remove the plastic wrap. Helen gets stack of plates from the cupboard and sets them down on the table near the silverware.
“You girls are having the time of your lives. I’m happy for you, really,” I say, but I’m lying through my teeth, holding in my envy. Fine, I’m happy for them, but God! I’m so jealous of their freedom. Their lives are fun. I can’t remember the last time I would have described my life as “fun”—if ever. We signed up for such different lives, different lifestyles. I signed up for the one I was “supposed” to live. I never once slowed down long enough to even question if it was what I truly wanted, what would truly make me happy. I make a plate of hors d’oeuvres and fruit for Lily, look down at her, and hang my arm over her shoulder. “Hey, what do you think about helping me with Sketches?” Her face lights up, and she nods. It’s her favorite board game.
Helen is cutting slices of lasagna, and Sarah is passing around the plates of fruit and cheese and hors d’oeuvres. I stack two plates with food for Lily and me and float with her to the living room. We settle onto the oversized shag rug that stretches from the sofa, holds up the coffee table and sprawls for several feet beyond. I let my toes and the sides of my feet take comfort in the thick cotton fibers. Much better. So cozy. I can breathe now. I look over at Lily. She feels it too, I know it. I’m always more comfortable around people outside of my age group than my own peers in these crowded situations. I guess I can relate to Lily in this way.
The twins bounce over and land on the sofa. They’re leaning over the coffee table, grabbing at the Sketches box as I’m pulling the lid off.
“Ok girls! Hold on, hold on!” Thank God I only have one, and she’s a mellow one. “You’re all going to get a chance to play, I promise. We just have to get it all out of the box first. Here.” I hand the twins a deck of cards split in half. “You two are going to be in charge of shuffling these.” I turn to Lily. “And you, my dear, are going to make sure everyone has a notepad, a pencil, and put the dice in the middle. I’ll be the timekeeper. Remember, when it’s your turn to pull the card, only say the Clue aloud, and read the Sketch to yourself.” I hear the adults gathering around the dining room table, and the poker chips being distributed.
“Babe, what the fuck are you doing on the floor at the kids’ table? Get over here!” Dylan yells. God! His tone is like nails on a chalkboard. Even his invitations sound like he can’t stand me. I feel my face turn red from humiliation when everyone laughs awkwardly.
“Maybe later.” I force the words out. More like never. The last thing I want to do is move from this spot. He has a way of making me feel like the stupidest person on the planet in two seconds flat. Congratulations, Dylan. Mission accomplished. I officially want to disappear. My need to be invisible is so strong right now.
All the sounds in the house are muffled, and I feel like I’ve just slipped into a pool and my ears are clogged. My heart’s beating out of my chest and I feel so cold, I’m shaking. Everything’s blurry, and I can’t maintain focus. I’m trying hard to see what’s in front of me and the only thing I can make out is
a bright glowing object at the end of the sofa. It’s the little girl! She’s sitting there, writing in her notebook. I’m paralyzed when it all hits me. She’s me as a little girl! I knew she felt familiar when I saw her that night in the kitchen. I feel a deep love for that little girl as I see her in my mind’s eye. I feel a deep longing to hold her and protect her. I want so badly to go towards her and hold her and talk to her and get to know her, but my legs won’t move, my mouth won’t open.
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out, and when I look up again, the girl has completely disappeared, and no one else even noticed that she was here a moment ago.
My phone continues to buzz. I click it open. I have 13 new messages?!! Shit. Not now. Why won’t he just leave me alone?
My fingers do the very opposite of what my mind and heart want. They go right ahead and click that stupid notification. What’s happening is exactly what I feared: countless texts and they won’t stop.
Dad: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go - Joshua 1:9
I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears - Psalm 34:4
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you - Peter 5:7
He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless - Isaiah 40:29
“Ugh!” I say out loud, startling the twins, which I thought was impossible. “Sorry, guys. My phone is just acting up.” I toss is onto the rug.
While I was in La-La Land, Lily and the twins are well into the game. “My turn!” one of them shouts, and rolls the dice. I pick my phone back up and continue reading the texts.
Dad: I’m sorry
I want to talk.
555-0180
Please call me
I love you
I’m stunned. He’s never actually written to me like having a normal conversation. My palms are sweating and my heart hasn’t resumed beating yet.
Dad: I left you all alone
Those things should never happen to a little girl
I didn’t protect you
I didn’t listen to you
I didn’t believe you
I’m sorry
I wipe a tear from my cheek, and keep scrolling.
Dad: Are you there?
J?
I can feel you
Fuck. I take a breath.
Dad: I’m so sorry
Please call me
I wipe more tears away. I look around and I’m surprised the kids haven’t noticed me crying, but they’re too involved in their game.
My fingers have a mind of their own and are actually typing back to him.
Me: I do—
I delete those three little letters, turn off my phone and set it on the floor. My back stretches and overextends my posture. I see Lily rolling the dice, and I scoot closer to her.
Lily counts her dice. “Six, seven, eight.”
One of the twins pulls eight cards from the stack in the center of the table, and hands the last one to Lily. She takes it and reads her clue to herself. I peek over at her clue, which isn’t that hard because she’s not hiding it very well. If You Had A Magic Wand, What Would You Make With It?
“Mom, don’t look,” she whispers to me. Even though she’s painfully shy, she still calls me out on peeking at her card. She’s so cute, I can’t take it sometimes. She’s very serious about this game.
“Oh yes! Of course,” I say, just as serious. I flip the timer over.
She takes her pencil between her little fingers and starts her sketch quickly. The twins are leaning over and getting riled up, even blocking Lily’s line of sight as she’s drawing. “C’mon, give the artist some room here,” I say, waving my hands as to shoo them away.
Lily’s tongue is doing that thing it does when she’s lost in concentration with her homework. I can hardly make out what she’s drawing, but I just love that she’s trying anyway and at least she’s drawing with them instead of being frozen stuck to my leg. Then, she’s done.
And just like one of those autostereogram paintings I have in my office where you stare at it until the picture pops out at you like it’s in 3-D, Lily’s drawing does just that! It’s incredible..
One of the twins yells in my ear, “Time!” Point taken, kid. I’m the world’s worst timekeeper.
“Ok, who wants to guess first?” I ask the small crowd.
The twins don’t even wait.
“A mountain!”
“A swamp!
“No,” Lily peeps, and I can see she’s embarrassed and is getting that look on her face where she wants to disappear and be mute for the rest of the night.
“It’s a magical island,” I say.
The color comes back to her face. “It is!”
“I see it! Here’s the grass, and here are the little huts where people do fun things, and here’s the ocean water where the girl is on a paddle-board.”
“Oh!” the twins say in unison. “Ok, cool. My turn!” one of them says, grabbing the dice, clearly not as impressed as I am.
“I see it. It’s beautiful, honey,” I say to Lily and kiss her on the head. “Let’s keep this one.”
Chapter Twelve:
Roller Coaster
It’s a hot morning in June. My office usually feels snug during these group therapy days. I risk opening the sliding glass door to let some cool ocean air in. If the fire trucks outside start wailing their sirens, then so be it. I think I’ll let Jack Johnson continue playing on my laptop speakers for a few minutes. He can help me welcome everyone in today.
The regulars are shuffling into their safe haven one at a time. It’s so sweet that they each have their preferred spots. I took over this group last month when my colleague went on maternity leave, and I already love them like they’re my kids; each precious in their own way.
Melissa’s mascara is smudged, and I can’t tell whether it’s from exhaustion or crying this time. My guess is both, but she’s getting stronger day by day. Somehow, she manages to make it into this room every week, and I can see her walking through her feelings in healthier ways. Eddie’s wearing his usual scowl, accessorized by dark-lensed Ray-Bans and a lowered baseball cap. I wavered a bit on his first day, trying to decide whether or not to set a hard and fast “No Sunglasses or Hats During Groups” rule, but opted to let him bring down his walls at his own pace. I can see he’s brought back the copy of The Power of Vulnerability that I lent him from my bookshelf last week. Melissa notices too.
“Was it any good?” She asks, as she never gets tired of making the effort to connect with him, and she’s a diehard Brené Brown fan, so I know she’s genuinely curious if it moved him as much as it did her. I have to hand it to her. She really gets him. I think he’s an external representation of her internal state.
It’s endearing to watch their interactions. You’d think this 57-year-old man was 17 by the looks of him right now. He pulls on the lid of his baseball cap and lowers it even more. I smile, sitting back and observing them. What they don’t realize is that even though it’s not nine a.m. yet, group has already begun. The group dynamic is ever-present.
I can see Melissa is tempted to grab the book, but is trying very hard to apply the boundaries I called her out on last week. She respects his physical space but tries to connect again. “I love that part where Brené compares shame to the zoom lens on a camera, and how shame loses its power when it’s said out loud.” With that, he acknowledges her with a side-eye.
Moments later, Charlie walks in, carrying several hula hoops in his arms. “Well, good morning to all you lovely people! Looks like it’s just us today.” He nudges the door shut with his elbow. Melissa’s cheeks turn as red as a tomato watching his grand entrance. I think she gets more passion from Charlie entering the room than she’s gotten in her entire marriage.
“I read that new book you told me about. I loved how she basically wrote the book for me ab
out my procrastination! And the part about boundaries gave me this idea,” he announces, as he hands me a hula hoop.
“You mean Run For Your Mind, Write For Your Life?” I double check.
“Yeah,” he says, as Melissa and Eddie take their hula hoops with confused expressions.
“We’ll use these today when we listen to each other,” Charlie continues. “This will be our Protection Boundary and…what’s the other one?”
“Containment,” I help him out.
“Yes, of course! The Containment Boundary,” Charlie continues. “So no matter what other people think or feel, that stays outside of the hula hoop, and your own opinions and feelings are protected inside the hula hoop.”
“For crying out loud,” Eddie huffs.
Side-talk warms up the space between the walls. My eyes wander to the second hand on the clock by the window, and follow it as it patiently dances to the highest point.
I lower the laptop’s volume slowly down to Off. The room adjusts to whispers, until the familiar comforting quiet emerges.
“Alright, everyone. Good morning, let’s go ahead and start group. Welcome back to the Raw Room. You guys know the drill. Everything that’s said here stays here in this room and is confidential, unless there’s risk of harm to self or others—”
“Or dependent adults or kids,” Charlie finishes for me.
“Thanks, Charlie,” I say.
“Alright, raw and uncensored. Here we go. Let’s get vulnerable, guys. Remember, respect is our only rule.” I open the floodgates and let them start swimming.
San Andreas Island Page 9