Safe Space II: The Finale

by Tiffany Patterson

  I nodded. “A couple of months ago, I received a letter from Ethan, who wanted to meet. I put it off, but finally responded. We met at a bistro, and he apologized.”

  Dr. Winston looked surprised. “He apologized? For the abuse?”

  “He did. Believe me, I was surprised too, but when I sat at the table across from him, I felt like he meant it. I reached across the table to grab his hand to let him know I’d forgiven him, and that must’ve been when the picture was taken of us.”

  “By whom?”

  “What?”

  “Who took the picture?”

  “Oh.” I rolled my eyes. “It turns out an employee of my father’s law firm was having me followed by a private investigator out of spite. He was trying to get dirt on me. Apparently, he wanted to make me appear bad in my father’s eyes.”

  “You said your father’s law firm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aren’t you a lawyer too?”

  I nodded.

  “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You were with a man who physically and mentally abused you. You broke up with him, moving across the country. Now, five years later, he resurfaces to apologize, and a couple of months later, an article is written about you, depicting you as a vindictive man-hater, and come to find out an employee at your father’s firm was behind it?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Do you suspect your ex was a part of the setup?”

  “I thought about that but honestly, I doubt it.”

  Dr. Winston nodded as she continued to write in her notepad.

  “Is there more?” she finally asked.

  I nodded. “A couple of months before that, a client of mine and her three-year-old son were murdered by her husband in a murder-suicide. I was there.”

  At that revelation, her eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head, peering at me over her glasses. “That’s a lot.”

  “Tell me about it.” I turned my head to stare out the window, trying to ward off memories of Anne Marie and a bleeding Noah, only to be confronted by memories of that awful picture of me, bloodied and bruised. And then, memories of Xavier. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around my waist.

  “Is there more?” Dr. Winston asked, breaking up the silence.

  “And…” I trailed off, not knowing how to phrase my next thoughts. I eventually just opted for total transparency. “I think I let the best thing that ever happened to me get away.”

  Her silence begged for more details. I appreciated that she didn’t rush me.

  “I was dating someone at the time all of this happened. Someone I cared for deeply, and he ended up leaving me too.”

  “Too?”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled. I hadn’t meant to say it like that. “I mean, Xavier left when the article revealed my past. I’d lied to him about the reasons of my breakup with Ethan.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I think so.”

  “Think?”

  “Yes. Yes, I love him.”

  “Hmm,” she stated, scribbling notes on the yellow legal pad she held in her lap.

  I stared out the window as she continued writing. My chest felt like there was an elephant sitting on it.

  “Thank you for your honesty, Chanel. It seems you’ve experienced a lot in such a short period. Did you ever receive any counseling after the murder of your client?”

  “No,” I answered, just above a whisper. I had considered grief counseling immediately after the murders, but eventually forgot about it. The truth was, I’d felt so safe with Xavier and the way he’d taken care of me afterward, I’d convinced myself I didn’t need counseling. Just some time to move past it and I’d be all right.

  “And did you ever receive any counseling after you broke up with your fiancé?”

  Again, the answer to that question was a resounding, “No.”

  She jotted down some more notes. Dr. Winston peered up at me to see me staring down at the pad in her lap.

  “My apologies, Chanel. I should’ve told you beforehand, during our sessions, I usually write notes, just to help me remember what we’ve discussed. No one else will ever see these. All right?”

  I nodded. “I get it. I do the same with my clients.”

  She smiled. “Right, as an attorney, I know you understand how confidentiality works. It’s very similar for therapists. So,” she paused, removing her glasses and setting them on top of the pad. “I want to explain to you how I think I can help you. I’m a cognitive behavioral therapist, which means I specialize in getting to the underlying thoughts that lead to behaviors. By changing those thoughts, the end goal is to alter your behaviors for the better. One pattern of yours I see is that you haven’t dealt with a lot of past or current trauma, and when that happens, it tends to come out when we least expect it. I’d imagine that’s why you're having trouble sleeping. Our defenses are at their weakest point when we’re asleep, and nightmares tend to be the body’s way of processing our unexpressed emotions. Does that make sense?”

  I thought about it before answering. “I guess it makes sense.” I chuckled. “I was just kinda hoping you’d be able to give me a prescription for sleeping pills and I’d be on my way.”

  Her lips formed into a thin line. “I could do that, or rather, I could write a referral for you to see the psychiatrist across the hall and he could prescribe you some sleeping pills, but I don’t think that would be best.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because just from the little you’ve told me, you’re dealing with the trauma of a past abusive relationship. Granted, you’ve stated your ex-fiancé apologized, and maybe he was sincere, but it doesn’t seem as if you’ve ever dealt with it. You also were a witness to a murder-suicide just over, what…two or three months ago? And on top of all that, you’re going through a breakup with someone you care for deeply. In my estimation, just from this short time we’ve been together, I would say you’re experiencing mild symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Do you know what that is?”

  “PTSD, of course.”

  “Right, and given the fact that it took us nearly two weeks to find a time slot for you to get in to see me, I’d say you’re overcompensating with working.”

  I lowered my gaze to the carpet, taking in everything. It was true, it’d taken close to two weeks to find a time to get into Dr. Winston’s office. For the past month, I’d even gone into my office on Saturdays. Gabby had often joked about me being a workaholic, but now a professional in mental health was saying the same thing.

  “You think I have PTSD?” I finally asked.

  “Possibly, a mild form of it. Either way, I’d say there’s a lot going on with you that we need to work through. And I haven’t even gotten into your family history yet.”

  I heaved out a heavy sigh.

  Dr. Winston sat up in her chair, placing her hand on my knee comfortingly. “Chanel, from what you’ve told me so far, you’ve never been in counseling. I’m not here to drudge up everything in your past to make you feel terrible. It’s my job to give you the tools to help you lay down the past, so it no longer haunts your present. It’s not always easy, but trust me when I say it’s worth it.” She finished and sat back in her seat.

  “You sound almost like me when I tell my clients to trust me.”

  “And what do you tell them when they look at you with suspicion, the way you’re looking at me right now?” She grinned.

  “I tell them, there’s no one better at what I do.” And I make them believe it because it’s true.

  “And that’s what I say to you. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing.” The leveled look she gave had me believing in her ability. If I was going to do this, I doubted there was anyone else I wanted to do it with. I had to learn to trust somewhere, why not start in Dr. Winston’s office?

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  “Okay. We’ve got about twenty minutes left in our session. I need you to give me a little background and family history before
we finish up.”

  Over the next twenty minutes, I gave Dr. Winston the basic information on my family history. Born to upper-middle class, married parents, with a father worked his ass off to cross our family over the gap from middle-class to wealthy. That was the shiny story that looked good in the business and housekeeping magazines my father or mother would sometimes find their way into. Dr. Winston wasn’t fooled, though.

  “In our next session, I’m going to ask you more about your relationship with your father and how that’s possibly impacted your romantic relationships.”

  I gave her a half-smile. “The good old ‘daddy issues’ trope, huh?”

  “Some things become a trope because they’re true. Your father, Elliott Combs, is one of the most successful attorneys in the nation, and yet, you choose to work at a law firm across town from his. You think I wouldn’t pick up on that?”

  I let out a laugh. “I think I like you, Dr. Winston.”

  “That’s great, ’cause I have a feeling you and I are going to be seeing a lot more of each other. Don’t forget to schedule your next appointment with my receptionist on the way out,” she stated as I rose from the couch.

  “Will do.”

  Minutes later, I strutted out of Dr. Winston’s outer office with a business card with the time and date for my next appointment the following week in my hand. I had no idea what this would lead to, if anything. But hell, if it helped me to sleep any better at night, then what the heck?

  Chapter Four

  Chanel

  “All right chica, I’m here,” I called out as I stood at Jason and Tori’s door. My brother’s home was almost something out of Leave It to Beaver. At just over three thousand square feet, the entire home was encased in red brick siding and red and white windowpanes.

  Tori stood by the opened door, mean mugging me with her hand on her hip. I knew she was pissed that it had taken me this long to visit. I’d been MIA over the last month. I finally agreed to get together that Saturday for lunch. After my therapy session earlier, I’d stopped by a restaurant and picked up lunch for all of us.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I brought pizza!” I grinned, holding up the two boxes in my hands.

  Tori’s brown eyes narrowed. Despite her less than sunny disposition at the moment, my sister-in-law was glowing in her off-the-shoulder gray bodysuit. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and her honey-toned face was bare of any makeup.

  “Auntie Nel!” an excited voice called from just behind Tori.

  My smile grew tenfold as I peered down at my two-year old niece, Amalia. “Hi, baby!” I squealed. My eyes watered, looking down into her baby face. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my niece and nephew until then.

  “Auntie Nel!” Jason Jr. squealed. “Oh, pizza!”

  I laughed. “See, now you have to let me in,” I told Tori.

  “Hey, Chanel,” she finally spoke before taking a step back to allow me to enter. “Come on. They’ll follow the pizza.”

  As stated, the twins followed Tori and me down the long hallway to the kitchen, giggling the whole way. I placed the pizza boxes on the kitchen island where Tori had already set up some of our lunch.

  “I made a Greek salad and peach iced tea.”

  I looked at the salad and pitcher of iced tea with slices of peaches in it. “Looks delicious. Jason’s not here?”

  “No, he had an unexpected meeting with a client this morning. He just texted me a little while ago saying it’s running over.” She shrugged. “He’ll be in eventually. Come on, guys,” she said to the twins. We opted to eat in the less formal dining area that was next to the open kitchen space. I helped Amalia into one of the chairs. I shook my head at Tori as I stood up.

  “I don’t know how on earth you have these light colors in here with two toddlers running around.” Tori and Jason’s kitchen and living room areas were decorated in creams and light blues. The dining table and chairs were constructed of a dark wood, but the seat cushions were cream. I cringed at the thought of how frequently they had to clean and replace their pillows and cushions.

  Tori rolled her eyes playfully. “Tell me about it. My mother tried to warn me, but you know how hardheaded I can be. I just had to have it like the vision in my head.”

  “And I bet my brother couldn’t say no to you.”

  “After carrying his twins? Tuh!”

  We both laughed as we plated the food and brought it over to the table.

  As soon as the cutup pieces of pizza were in front of them, Jason Jr. and Amalia went to town, joyfully spreading pizza sauce everywhere. I’m pretty certain even some managed to make its way into their mouths.

  “This salad is delicious. What dressing did you use for it?” I questioned Tori.

  “It’s this new dressing I found while shopping this week. I didn’t feel like making the dressing, so I opted for store-bought. It’s good, huh?”

  I nodded as I swallowed.

  “What’ve you been up to lately?”

  “Just working,” I answered, looking down at my plate.

  “That’s it?”

  I gave a one shoulder shrug.

  “Jason told me about you storming into your father’s office the other week.”

  I rolled my eyes. Of course, he did. “You’re not going to tell me how he would never do anything like that, are you?”

  Tori shook her head and placed her uneaten pizza crust on her plate. “Nope. Lord knows, we all have our issues with our parents. That’s one relationship I’m not going to interfere with. I’m just worried about you. After everything happened, you kinda just disappeared, which is a bit of a habit of yours. And then Xavier’s been out of town for like a month or so, and I don’t know what happened there…” She trailed off, obviously hoping I’d fill in the blanks somewhere.

  I hesitated.

  “Done, Mommy!” Jason Jr. shouted.

  Tori and I both looked over to see that his plate was nearly clean, except for a few pieces of crust.

  “Did you finish your juice?”

  He picked up his sippy cup, brought it to his mouth and dramatically tilted his head all the way back, so the bottom of the cup was in the air.

  “Done!” he answered, plopping the empty cup back on the table.

  “Amalia, you too?”

  “Yes!” her sweet little voice answered.

  “Okay, let’s get you both cleaned up.” Tori and I stood, she wiped down Jason Jr. while I helped clean off Amalia’s face and hands. “Go put your plates and cups in the kitchen sink, and you can go to your playroom. Auntie Nel and I will be there in a minute,” Tori instructed after we helped them down from their chairs. The kids scurried off, placed their plates on the counter in the kitchen, and ran to the back of the house where their playroom was.

  “Now, back to you,” Tori stated.

  I gave her a half-smile. “I guess disappearing is a little bit of a habit for me,” I echoed her earlier comment. “It’s just what I do. After what happened, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just buried myself in work.”

  “And Xavier? You didn’t want to talk to him either?”

  “The opposite. He didn’t want to talk to me.”

  Tori made an inquisitive expression. “You know I’m going to need more details than that.”

  I sighed. “Honestly, Tori, I’m still figuring it all out. I don’t know what went wrong between Xavier and I. I mean, I did lie to him about my ex.”

  “That piece of shit.”

  I smirked at the mumbled curse. “Yeah, Ethan was a piece of shit when we were together.” I sighed, running my hand through my hair. “Anyway, I don’t know. Xavier and I haven’t talked since that day. And I haven’t been sleeping well at all. So, I went to my first therapy appointment this morning,” I admitted.

  Tori looked at me with a semi-shocked look that changed into a more satisfied one. “Good. I’m glad you’re getting help with all this. I mean, between your ex and what happened with your client a few m
onths ago…”

  I nodded in understanding but remained silent. “Anyway, can we talk about something else? It’s been a heavy morning.”

  Tori gave me a sympathetic look. “Sure. I’m just glad you’re here. Come see the latest project I’m working on in my art class before the kids pull you into one of their games.”

  We quickly cleared the table and made our way down the hall to the room Tori had turned into her art studio. Even though it had taken me weeks to do so, I was glad to finally be hanging out with my sister-in-law and the kids again. I’d missed them dearly during my self-imposed isolation.

  ****

  Xavier

  I climbed out of my Model X in front of Jay’s home and pulled up short when I didn’t see his car in the driveway. Instead, there was a cherry red Tesla Model S sitting there. I knew whom that vehicle belonged to. My head told me to turn around and hop right back in my car, but the unnatural pull I felt toward the owner of that vehicle had me walking up to the front door and knocking before I could recall moving.

  “Coming!” Tori called out, sounding rushed. “Xavier, hey, I didn’t know you were coming by today. Jay’s—”

  “At work, but he said he’d be in soon,” I blurted, cutting her off and looking over her head to see the rest of the house.

  “Hello to you too,” Tori retorted, annoyed.

  “Hey. Sorry.” I apologized for my rudeness, but still took glances behind her. She twisted her head to look over her shoulder and then turned back to me with an amused expression.

  “Looking for someone?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Where is she?” No need to play games. We both knew damn well I was looking for Chanel. Her car in the driveway and the smile that played at Tori’s lips all told me she was there. I stepped through the door and closed it behind me while Tori kept that goofy ass grin on her face.

  “Well?”

  “You two are a trip.” She sighed.

  My patience was growing thinner by the second. I hadn’t seen Chanel in more than a month, save for the brief exchange we’d shared at the restaurant earlier that week. And yes, not seeing Chanel or communicating with her was mostly my doing, but now that she was this close again, every cell in my body ignited with the yearning to lay my eyes on her.