by Amy Brent
“After she got her citizenship, we divorced. She signed over parental rights to me and left,” I said.
I watched the shock roll over her face as her hands slowly fell to her sides. I figured she would need time to unpack that statement, but she sat up and started throwing questions at me faster than I expected.
“Citizenship?” she asked.
“It’s a very long story, but I met her father while I was still in college. I had lofty dreams of my first international office for my business being in Russia since the rate of depression there is so high. We sat down and negotiated a deal, marrying his daughter so she could get her citizenship in exchange for the money to fund the start of my business.”
I saw her eyes grow wide with tears as I sighed and bowed my head. She deserved these answers. I knew she did. But I’d wanted to touch on her guilt. I’d wanted to unpack that before we got into all this. I wanted her to leave my office feeling better. Lighter on her feet. Able to conquer the world.
I didn’t want her to be like this.
“The woman you married …” she said.
“I married in exchange for a profitable sum I invested. By the time she had her citizenship, I had invested it well and had enough money to fund building this entire building you’re currently sitting in,” I said.
“So you didn’t?”
“No. I didn’t love her,” I said.
“But you loved her enough to have a son.”
“I was horny enough to allow myself the mistake of having sex with her,” I said.
She sank back into the couch with a bewildered look on her face. I watched her fit stray pieces into holes she had probably been dwelling on for years, and my stomach rolled with guilt. Raking my hand through my hair, I started jotting some things down onto the notepad. I needed to record this. It was still part of her healing, part of her session. Even if I hadn’t been ready to admit any of this yet.
“Do you miss her?” she asked.
Had I not been actively listening out for her voice, I probably would’ve missed it. I finished writing before I slowly lifted my head toward her, and I saw tears threatening to stream down her face.
“Not for one second,” I said as I grabbed some tissues.
I handed them to her, and she raised up to accept them. Our fingers brushed, igniting my arm with her electric addiction. I drew in a deep breath as I watched her dab at her tears, and I decided to take the moment of silence to get back on track. There were more recent things we needed to discuss before we unpacked the past, and I needed to know how she was doing.
Sleeping.
Coping.
“How did you sleep this weekend?” I asked.
“Rough,” she admitted.
“Have you been taking the vitamin D and trying the yoga?” I asked.
“Vitamin D, yes. Yoga, a bit. The hobby? Not yet. Things have picked up with work a bit too much for me to justify wasting the time.”
“An investment in yourself isn’t wasting time,” I said.
“Well, I was filling my nights with something else there for a little bit,” she said as she cast me a playful look.
“Whatever you decide to fill it with, make sure it’s something you want,” I said.
There was a moment of silence, and I decided to go out on a limb. She was looking out the window, probably trying to process what I’d told her in this session, and I needed her to know that this was about her and that I was concerned about how she was feeling.
I also wanted her to know she was missed.
“I missed our phone calls this weekend,” I said.
“Oh, now you’re just trying to hit on me,” she said, smirking.
“Not at all. I greatly enjoyed talking with you. You’re a bit more open with your emotions over the phone than in person. Why do you think that is?”
“I guess I don’t have the threat of seeing your reaction. I can pretend you’re listening. I can pretend you care.”
“Do I look like I don’t care now?” I asked.
She turned her head toward me and raked her eyes up and down my form. I watched her study me, breaking me down in the only ways she knew how before she turned her gaze back out the window. She’d thrown up a wall I hadn’t even seen on her first day here, and I needed to know why.
I needed to know why she was suddenly pushing me away.
“Melissa, look at me,” I said.
“Why?”
“Just… trust me,” I said.
She panned her gaze over and I saw the guilt wafting across her face. There is was again. That pesky emotion she couldn’t get rid of.
“You know it’s okay for you to move on, right?”
“I promised my life to him,” she said.
“Until death do us part,” I said.
“What?”
“That’s one of the last lines of everyone’s wedding vows. Until death do us part. Do you know what that means?”
“Of course, I know what that means,” she said.
“I don’t think you do. You’ve relegated yourself to trying to hold onto the memory of someone who has passed. If Carl were alive, would he want you living this way?” I asked.
“That’s an idiotic question,” she said breathlessly.
“But one that requires an answer. If he were here, in this very room, would he smile at your life?”
“Of course not. He would want to see me happy. Jovial. Excited about life.”
“Then why are you using his death as an excuse not to be?” I asked.
“I’m not using his death as anything!” she exclaimed. “I miss my fucking husband!”
“Then allow yourself to live the way he would want you to. If you take his memory and you allow yourself to be swallowed by it, then his memory is only hurting you. If he loved you, truly loved you, he wouldn’t want your memories of him to swallow you whole. He would want them to give you life, life he doesn’t have any longer.”
“Stop saying that,” she whispered.
“Melissa, he’s gone. It wasn’t your fault, and there was nothing you did to deserve it. But you have to accept that reality. You have a beautiful daughter who counts on you and who puts her faith and trust in you. She watches you more than you realize, and one day she’s going to understand how unhappy her mother is. If you allow the memories of your late husband to swallow you whole, Sarah’s going to grow up thinking the outcome of love is what you’re currently experiencing. Do you want that?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not at all.”
Tears were pouring down her face, and my soul cried out to her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and pull her close. I wanted to take her home and cook her dinner. I wanted to run my fingers through her hair while she cried.
I wanted to hold her as tightly as I could, if only to try and hold her life together a little while longer.
“The guilt you experienced because of what we did was normal, and I can promise you that if our nightly calls ever resume, I will never allow it to travel the path we took. Ever again. Don’t rush the grieving process. Give yourself time to cope, but don’t put it off like you have.”
“How am I supposed to keep going?” she asked. “How am I supposed to keep waking up in a bed that smells like him and not want him there? How am I supposed to keep opening our closet and seeing his clothes gone and not want them back? How am I supposed to do any of this?”
“One step at a time. Right now, you start with simply digesting the fact that he’s gone. That’s enough for now,” I said.
“How do I do that alone? I don’t even know where to start.”
“You’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you can call anytime,” I said.
“Well, what if I want more of you?” she blurted out.
I studied her for a second and watched her gaze whip back out the window. There was that wall. That wall she threw up when she thought the reaction I was going to have was less than tasteful. I sat back and allowed the impact of her words to hit me. There
was a chance she simply asked that question because she was overly emotional, but there was a voice inside my head that was aching to be heard.
So, I took a step back out onto the broken branch.
“What if we had dinner?” I asked.
She slowly turned her head back toward me, and I knew I had her attention.
“Tonight. What if we had dinner tonight? We could get into a more relaxed atmosphere, and maybe that would give you some more time with me to pick my brain about things you could do to help yourself.”
“Tonight,” she said.
“Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or any day, for that matter.”
“You want to have dinner with me,” she said.
“You just said you wanted more of me. I’m giving you the option. It can be as friends or it can be as doctor and patient.”
“Wouldn’t that be crossing one of those lines?” she asked.
“It would be no different than a house call. We would get together outside of the office and simply talk,” I said.
“Well, I couldn't do tonight,” she said.
“It’s an option if you want it.”
“What about Wednesday night?” she asked.
“I could put that on my schedule. But, you have to start doing something for me.”
“And what’s that?” she asked.
“Find a hobby. I want to hear all about the start of it when we sit down for dinner Wednesday evening.”
The smile that crossed her face lit up her entire demeanor before she nodded her head.
“I can do that.”
Chapter 16
Melissa
“You what?”
“We had phone sex, Ava. It just sort of morphed. And quickly too. That means he was wanting it as well, right?”
“And this is your doctor,” Ava said.
“Brandon, yes.”
“I’m sure that breaks I don’t know how many rules in his handbook,” she said.
“Then you’ll be even more shocked when I tell you he’s taking me out to dinner tonight,” I said.
“Holy hell, you must really like this guy,” she said.
“I enjoy his company, yes.”
“Well, it’s about damn time. Honestly? It’s a bit hot that it’s your doctor. I like a good doctor every now and again,” she said.
“How are things going with Logan’s father?” I asked.
“Eh. It is what it is. I don’t see a romantic relationship brewing, but he is there for Logan when he needs to be. Plus, he’s regularly divvying out child support, which has made some things a hell of a lot easier.”
“Good. My gosh, I’m so glad to hear that,” I said.
“But back to you and Brandon. You know this isn’t normal, right? Patients don’t have these types of relationships with doctors regularly.”
“I know, I know. Is it that bad? Should I cancel tonight?”
“What? Cancel? Hell, no! Melissa, this is a good thing. I’ve been telling you for a while that you weren’t coping with the loss of Carl. You need to understand that wanting a man in your life who isn’t your late husband is all right. Give yourself permission to enjoy this date.”
“It’s not a date,” I said.
“It’s totally a date. You don’t realize it yet, but when you look into his eyes, you’ll feel differently.”
“And you know this how?” I asked.
“Because when you talk about him, your eyes light up.”
I sat back and let her words sink in. I really was looking forward to dinner tonight. I didn’t feel guilty about it, and I was looking forward to Brandon’s company for the evening. Carl’s parents had agreed to take Sarah for the evening, and they even seemed to be excited that I was going out and doing something for myself. They were picking her up from school today, which meant I could take my time getting ready, and for a moment, I just closed my eyes.
I conjured his face as it smiled at me. The warmth that cascaded up my legs brought tears to my eyes, and as I studied his body in my mind, I realized Ava was right.
Whatever I was feeling for Brandon, it was there with a vengeance.
“Let me know how tonight goes,” she said, smiling. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“Thanks for talking with me, Ava.”
“Anytime. And Melissa?”
“Yeah?”
“Allow yourself to have fun tonight. If there’s anyone on this planet who deserves it, it’s you.”
I finished up work and raced home to get ready. I knew exactly what I was going to wear to dinner. I had this pale yellow and dark green dress that fell off my shoulders and hit me just below my knees. It accentuated my waist without clinging to my jiggling stomach, and I had matching earrings and a bracelet to go along with it. I pinned my hair up and splashed on a bit of makeup before I slipped into my heels, and by the time I grabbed my coat, there was a knock at my door.
“Brandon?” I asked as I opened it.
“I tried calling you, but I think your phone’s off,” he said. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to pick you up, so I figured I’d just come to the address in your file. If you want to follow me, that’s fine. I just couldn’t get ahold of you to solidify anything for tonight.”
I dug for my phone out of my purse and realized it had been cut off. I groaned, turning it on as a flood of messages came through my phone. Text messages from Ava wishing me luck and a video message from Sarah saying she loved me while she stuffed her face with popcorn. Then, the messages from Brandon came flooding through, asking about where I wanted to eat and if he was picking me up.
“I am so sorry, Brandon,” I said. “I must’ve toggled it at some point in time and not realized it.”
“It’s all right. I figured we could go to Bestia’s. You ever been there?” he asked.
“I never get to that side of L.A., to be honest. That’s the Italian place, right?”
“Yep,” he said as I stepped out of the house. “Figured that would be a nice middle ground. Everyone likes pasta, right?”
“I love pasta,” I said. “Especially with asiago cheese alfredo sauce.”
“Then that’s what we can get you this evening,” he said, grinning.
“Do you mind if I ride with you? My night vision’s terrible, to be honest.”
“Not a problem, though you should get something like that checked out,” he said as he opened my door.
“My vision got rough after having Sarah. Well, that and my body.”
“Melissa, look at me.”
I looked over at him as he slid beside me into the car. He shut the door and cocked his body toward me before his eyes raked down my body. I could feel him devouring me, taking every single part of my outfit in before a small smile crossed his cheeks.
“You look phenomenal,” he said.
“Thanks.”
The ride to the restaurant was filled with laughter. He kept telling me stories of all the stuff he got into at college with his buddies. Drunken parties and random weekend trips. One night stands gone wrong and odd ways to fall in love. Apparently, one of his college buddies ended up falling in love with a woman he had a one-night stand with at a concert. They just went at it on the ground and somehow woke up together sleeping next to the trash can bins, and that somehow equated into a lifetime of love.
“They have three kids now, and I tease them about consummating them in places like dump yards and behind scrap metal shops.”
“You do not!” I said, laughing.
“I do, and it’s perfect. Their story is unique to them, and I love listening to them tell it to anyone who will listen.”
Dinner was fabulous. The alfredo pasta I had boasted of enough cheese to clog my veins for a week. There wasn’t a moment of guilt that wafted up in my system as I sat across the table from Brandon, and I took that as some sort of advancement. I reveled in his smile and listened to his stories. I regaled him with how I met Carl and the day we got married, and not once did my stomach roll with hurt or
anguish. I could freely talk about these things with him. He listened attentively, but I never once felt as if the memories were eating me alive.
Maybe I was getting better after all.
“So, Melissa. Have you given any thought to that hobby of yours?” he asked.