Back to Reality

by Danielle Allen

  When the song switched and ‘Trouble’ played through the apartment, the haunting lyrics hit a little too close to home. Putting the glass down, I rubbed my face slowly. I don’t try to hurt the people I love but I keep doing it. I don’t mean to cause trouble but when I think I’m making things better, I always end up making things worse. I keep doing this. Things have to change. I have to change. And I have to make things right. I can’t keep doing this to the people I love most in this world. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I need to make things right. As soon as possible, I thought decisively.

  Drowning the last of my wine, I sent Emily a text message.

  Sahara Lee: I’ll be there.

  Chapter 5

  “Good evening, Sahara! How are you?” Dr. Ann Summers said as she opened the front door to the building. She wore a plum colored wrap dress with green polka dots. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head, showcasing her long dangling earrings. She looked so youthful, yet her grey hair gave her a certain distinguished quality. How old is she? I wondered.

  “Hi, Dr. Summers. I’m well. How are you?” I responded politely as I slipped passed her into the empty waiting room.

  “I’m fantastic. This week has flown by,” she exclaimed, closing the door behind me. “That is a lovely suit you have on. When I was your age, I wore white all summer long.”

  “Thank you,” I replied with a smile. She said ‘when I was your age’ so I’m going to guess mid-forties…but her skin looks like she’s in her thirties and her hair looks like she’s in her fifties, I thought as I followed her to her office. I just don’t know, I mused silently as I switched my black leather Michael Kors handbag to my other arm and entered the cinnamon scented office.

  “Have a seat,” Dr. Summers directed, handing me a bottle of water. I took it and sat down in one of the brown chairs. I smoothed the imaginary wrinkles out of my white Burberry London capri slacks and buttoned the matching white short sleeved jacket before taking a seat. With my legs crossed, the toe of my black Michael Kors pump tapped the leg of the chair rapidly and repeatedly. Bracing myself for another emotional session, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And then another.

  “How are you feeling Sahara?” Dr. Summers asked as I heard her get comfortable in the chair across from where I was seated.

  “I’m fine,” I said quietly. When I opened my eyes, I saw her glancing at my foot. I stopped mid tap. Clearing my throat, I repeated, “I’m fine.” Straightening in my seat, I struggled to produce a smile.

  “Would you like to pick up where we left off last Friday or would you like to talk about something new? It’s up to you. I’m sensing there’s something on your mind.”

  “Yes. There is. Um, I made a decision over the weekend and I’m having…reservations,” I admitted as I rubbed my hand up and down my arm. I wasn’t cold, but I was shaking.

  “What decision did you make?” Dr. Summers inquired, leaning forward in her seat slightly.

  “I decided to confront my past and stop running from it,” I said slowly.

  Dr. Summers nodded and gave me a warm smile. A moment passed and she didn’t say anything, so I continued. “I’m going to Richland this weekend. And I’m going to Thomasville next weekend. I have unfinished business and I need to take care of it.”

  “Not running away from your past sounds positive,” Dr. Summers started. “But before I can really help you with your dilemma, can you tell me a little about your past so that I can understand why you may have reservations?”

  The tears started up before I could even open my mouth to respond. Shutting my eyes tightly, I tried to stop the onslaught of tears that rushed to escape. Unconsciously, I must have started tapping my shoe against the leg of the chair again, because the silence in the room was only cut by the steady beat. Noisily, I sucked in a deep breath and held it. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, I counted to myself as I focused on calming down. I opened my eyes and Dr. Summers was jotting something down on a small notepad that she kept on a small accent table near her chair.

  “I have anxiety,” I immediately explained.

  “Are you taking anything for it?”

  “No… I haven’t seen a therapist in years.” I wiped my eyes, careful not to smudge the makeup I applied.

  “Ok,” Dr. Summers said as she wrote down another note. Putting the pen and pad down, she looked at me compassionately. “I want you to tell me about your past. Specifically, what memory triggered that reaction from you?”

  “I have a lot of apologizing to do. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’ve hurt people that I loved,” I choked out my reasons. “Ty was so good to me. He was incredible to me. He was in an accident and I never saw him again,” I cried. I gave up wiping away the tears because they continued to come faster and harder the more I talked.

  “Ty sounds like a wonderful person to have in your life,” Dr. Summers seemed to choose her words carefully.

  “He was,” I assured her with one definitive nod. I put my head in my hands and told her about our whirlwind romance. I told her of our chance meeting at the gym, the first night together at Jimmy’s, our first date, our living arrangement, our immediate connection, and New York.

  “It sounds as if you care for him very much.”

  “I do. I’ll always love Ty. He gave me much more than I deserved. He gave me strength to do things I never thought I’d be able to do. And I never got the chance to repay him for that,” I sniffled. Taking the tissue that was offered to me, I wiped my face.

  “You are speaking about Ty in the past tense… did something happen to him?” Dr. Summers implored kindly. Her tanned hands were clasped in her lap as she inspected me.

  I nodded. “I hurt him and then he was in a bad accident,” I stammered over my words. A chill coursed through my body as I said the words aloud.

  “Sahara, can you elaborate on what happened?”

  I nodded, but fell silent. I needed to get myself together before I could speak.

  “Did you cause the accident?” Dr. Summers asked after the silence filled the room.

  “Yes,” I whispered in a trembling breath.

  “What happened?” Although her voice was light and calm, I could tell Dr. Summers was troubled by my admission.

  “I did what I always do—I ruined him. I ruined his life.”

  “Tell me about the accident,” Dr. Summers commanded in a tone that pulled me from the teary abyss I was slowly sinking into.

  “It goes back further than the accident,” I cried. Taking a few deep breaths and a sip of water, I told her an abbreviated version of my relationship with Ty. I confessed all of the major events that happened with Tyree between the day I met him and when he left me alone in his hotel room in Thomasville.

  “So he was under the impression that you cheated on him with Emanuel?” Dr. Summers asked as she pieced the story together.

  I nodded in response. My manicured nails dug into the palms of my hands to stop the shaking.

  “But I didn’t cheat on him. I mean, maybe I did. Emotionally. But I didn’t have sex with him. I needed him to know that. But then everything got so messed up. He wouldn’t take my calls or open the door for me when I came over. So I wrote him a letter and then I went to his restaurant and professed my love. We were supposed to continue the conversation when he got back to Libby Lofts…” The lump in my throat was back and my next words came out raspy. “But he never made it back to Libby Lofts.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  How do you think it made me feel? I wondered incredulously as I shook my head. “I was the reason he left work at that time. I was the reason. So I feel guilty and sad and heartbroken,” I sputtered.

  “Do you feel responsible for the accident or responsible for the demise of the relationship?”

  I paused. “Well, both. I was the reason he was on the road at that time. I was the reason he was rushing. I may not have been in one of the cars involved in the pile up, but I am responsible for putting him on the
road at that time, for convincing him to leave work early to talk to me. I am responsible. And as far as the relationship goes, I’m the reason there was anything for us to even need to work out, work through, and talk about. And to top it off, I didn’t even get a chance to apologize. I just left…while he was in the hospital.”

  “You left while he was in the hospital. Can you elaborate on that please?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say about it,” I declared as I ran my hands down the sides of my damp face. “I already told you, I left him in the hospital. He was fighting for his life and I showed up at the hospital with Emanuel. Tyree was in the hospital because of me and I showed up with the man he thought I cheated on him with to begin with. I did this to myself. I did this to him. I did this to both of them.”

  I let out a wavering breath before I continued, “Tyree’s best friend told him that I was there with Emanuel and my calls, texts, flowers, cards went unanswered. I was told he was out of the woods, but I couldn’t get a full update on his health and wellness. The day I left, I was told he would be out of the hospital soon. The weight of what I’d done. The weight of how much I hurt the people I love. The weight of the choices I didn’t want to make. The weight of it all was too much for me to take so I just…ran.”

  “I noticed that a point of contention in your relationship with Tyree was Emanuel. Tell me more about Emanuel.” Dr. Summers stroked her jawline with her pen before she jotted down a brief note.

  Taking another deep breath, I quickly summarized the span of my relationship with Emanuel, highlighting that fateful week in June. “So I mean, from the time I could formulate memories, Emanuel was there. He’s always been a constant in my life. Always. But I ran from him too. Twice. And besides, he was engaged and I chose Ty so we could never be anything more than what we already were to one another,” I concluded.

  “It sounds like you are struggling with your feelings for both men.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to. Acknowledging that I have feelings for them both will automatically prompt her to ask me to choose. And it’s an impossible choice. I don’t want to have to make it. At least not right at this moment, I thought stubbornly.

  “To use your words, you ran from both men. They were both in the hospital at the time so you were at an advantage. And your second time running away from Emanuel, he was under the impression you were working things out with Tyree. So again, you had a head start. Is this correct?” Dr. Summers’ tone was gentle although her assessment was not.

  “Yes,” I replied quietly. I looked toward the lit candle and stared at the flame. Hearing her summary made my stomach drop. They could’ve died because of me, I wanted to scream at her. They could’ve died and it would’ve been all my fault! I ran because they are better off without me.

  “How does running make you feel Sahara?”

  “Cowardly. And Sad. And Guilty.” My voice was barely above a whisper and I dropped my gaze to my lap. “It makes me feel like I’m not strong enough to cope. But I want to be. That’s why I agreed to go to therapy. That’s why I need to go to Richland. That’s why I need to go to Thomasville. I need to apologize. I need to make amends. The thing you said to me last Friday stuck with me: hurt people hurt people. I will never stop feeling like this if I’m always hurting others and then running. I can’t keep running from the past.”

  As I spoke, my voice gained strength even though my eyes filled with tears. I blinked rapidly as I looked up at Dr. Summers.

  She responded, “I’m glad it resonated with you, Sahara. And I think it is very brave to own up to your mistakes and make amends. But I want to make sure you are ready and I want you to be sure that you are ready. With every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. And I don’t want you doing anything rash or premature if you haven’t fully considered the potential outcome. We have a few minutes before the session is over. Tell me your plan for this weekend.” With kind eyes etched with worry, Dr. Summers leaned back in her chair in a more relaxed pose. Her pen and pad were placed on the small end table and I had her undivided attention.

  “Well, my flight leaves tomorrow at noon and then I’ll give him the apology he deserves.”

  “Do you believe going back to where you used to live and apologizing is going to rid you of your guilt?” Her tone was serious, but it didn’t hold any judgment. She seemed to genuinely want to know. But the silence made me nervous.

  “It’s a start,” I stated with determination. Dr. Summers and I stared at each other for a minute. My breathing was steady, but my heart pounded in my chest. Even if she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, I’m still going to do it. I know in my heart, in my gut, that it’s the right thing to do. I have to go to back to Richland and Thomasville. I have to. I have to do this, I thought as I silently sought the approval of the woman who stared back at me.

  A smile played on the lips of Dr. Summers as she nodded. Her voice conveyed approval as she said, “Very well.” She stood up and grabbed her iPad off of her desk. I followed her lead, grabbing my handbag. We walked out of her office and I followed the older woman to the waiting room.

  “I’d like for us to have a phone appointment on Monday in addition to your usual Friday appointment so that we can touch bases after your trip,” Dr. Summers suggested as she clicked on her iPad calendar.

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied, feeling slightly relieved to know she’d be available for a debriefing.

  “There’s an early morning thirty minute block that is currently available.”

  “That’s perfect. And if possible, do you have any availability on Thursday evening instead of my usual Friday appointment? I’ve already booked my flight to Thomasville and I leave on Friday morning. Thursday after work would be best,” I requested.

  “I am booked solid on Thursday until 7pm and I don’t take appointments after 7pm. What time is your flight on Friday?”

  “I leave Friday at 11am. Do you have any early morning appointments?” I asked. Interesting, last week I was looking for any excuse to not follow through with therapy and now I’m practically begging for an appointment, I pondered as I haggled for availability with the popular therapist.

  Eyeing her appointment calendar, Dr. Summers proposed, “Let’s do the phone session on early Monday morning…hmmm…” She scrolled down her time slots before deciding. “And we will work out a day and time that is agreeable for us both for the face to face session to get you prepared for your next trip.”

  I gave a short nod before I said, “Thank you.”

  “I will talk to you Monday, Sahara. Have a safe trip. And good luck.”

  I smiled in response and I turned and walked to the front door. Opening the door, I looked over my shoulder to see Dr. Summers’ retreating frame as she headed down the hallway. Not hearing the door close, she stopped in her tracks and turned around to face me. “Sahara? Are you okay?”

  “Thank you,” I blurted out. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “For what?”

  For not shooting down my plan. If it goes up in flames, it’s still my plan. It’s what I need to do. Not just for them, but also, I need to do it for me, I answered silently. Unable to say anything, I gave her a short nod and walked through the front door.

  Chapter 6

  “Morning!” Ben’s accent greeted me as I answered the phone. Pulling my packed Louis Vuitton carry-all tote off of the white bench at the end of my bed, I walked to the living room.

  “Hey, Ben!” I asked as I placed the bag on the couch.

  “I’m about to leave my flat now. You ready?”

  “Yes, I am packed and ready to roll. Thank you again for taking me to the airport.”

  “My pleasure,” he said smoothly. “Like I told you earlier this week, I could just drive you down there. It’s just a two hour drive. You’re going to spend more time at the airport than you’re going to spend in the air.”

  “Again, thank you, but I must decline.”

  He laughed caus
ing me to smile. “Declining again? Well, I tried. I’ll see you in ten.”

  “Okay. Oh and I gave concierge and security your name so you shouldn’t have any issues coming up—today,” I emphasized the word today.

  “So am I correct in understanding that I shouldn’t have any issues getting to you today; however, I should expect issues getting to you any other time?” He laughed.

  “That’s absolutely correct,” I retorted with a scoff.

  “We shall see,” he suggested cryptically as his voice dropped an octave. He hung up the phone and I was left shaking my head. Ben is a nut, I thought as I laughed to myself.

  Heading back to the bedroom, I slipped on red ballet flats and grabbed my red Michael Kors Crossbody bag. Ten minutes later I heard the intercom buzz and I walked quickly to the front door.

  “Yes?” I spoke into the intercom.

  “Hi, Ms. Lee. This is Sarah Meister with security. There’s a Dr. Ben Sullivan on his way up.”

  “Thank you.” I went back to the bedroom to make sure the bathroom light was off. I pulled the curtains on the balcony. I picked up my sunglasses and made my way to the living room at the same time I heard the knock at the door.

  “Be right there!” I yelled to the closed door as I grabbed my carry-all tote. Looks like I have everything, I thought as my eyes swept over the living room.

  “Hi,” I greeted Ben as I opened the door.

  “Hi…You are gorgeous, Sahara,” Ben whistled. My white floral printed Alice + Olivia strapless dress with red and yellow floral designs showcased my legs. My hair was pulled into a high ponytail creating a curly puff on top of my head elongating my neck. My gold chandelier earrings grazed my collarbone. It was the perfect combination of sexy and cute.