She looks up, with intense dark eyes. “Hi.” Her smile doesn’t match the intensity of her features.
“I’m looking for Mikayla.”
“She should be here any minute. I’m Sam, the owner of Eloise Center.” I shake Sam’s hand, and stand awkwardly.
“It smells good,” I compliment.
“Thanks. It’s lavender incense, one of my favorites. Is there anything I can help you with while Mikayla arrives?”
“Um, maybe. A friend recommended her art therapy class. But, um,” I pause, not sure how to continue without offending anyone. “I haven’t experienced any abuse,” I finish off.
Sam smiles. “That’s okay. We do work primarily with women who are healing from different forms of abuse, but we are open to everyone. I’m a mental health therapist, so I work with everyone, including men.”
“Oh, I already have a therapist.” I cringe. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out so rude.”
“That’s okay,” Sam chuckles. “I respect that you’re working with someone. Why don’t we have some tea and chat?” She leads us to a small waiting room. All the walls are the same pale blue with minimal décor.
“You can choose which tea you’d like.” I grab the container she offers but stare at it blankly.
“I’m not much of a tea drinker, so whichever you’d recommend.”
After handing me a steaming cup, I lean back into one of the chairs and take a careful sip. A combination of spices calms me.
“Tell me why you think art therapy would be beneficial to you.”
“I’m not sure if it will be beneficial. I honestly have no idea, but figured I’d give it a try. My husband passed away some months ago. He was in the Armed Forces. The news was unexpected, and it’s been a struggle to say the least.”
“It must be. How long ago did he pass?”
“Nine months now.” I look down at the mug, seeing how the tea swirls. I take a chug, surprisingly liking the flavor.
“Everyone grieves differently. Take it easy on yourself. Art could be helpful. Any form of art where we use our imagination is healing. It’s a form of meditation. After a while, you let go and enter this zone. Sometimes all we need is to stare at a brush stroking the canvas in whatever color calls to us.”
“Even if I can’t paint?”
Sam chuckles. “Art therapy isn’t about the final product, it’s about the journey. It is about the release and awareness that awakens within you. When you’re focused on making marks on a canvas, the outside world fades away. Worries and stress disappear for a little while, and we’re truly present.”
“I felt that way when I was gardening. I started an herb garden, but it’s not holding up too well with the weather. Baking helps with that, too.”
“A lot of things do. It requires our attention, so we get focused on it. Anything that calms our spirit is good for us.”
The way Sam speaks is so wise. She almost sounds like some guru or something. It won’t hurt to try a class out. I’d still like to talk to Mikayla, since she’s the person who will be guiding it. Like Wendy said, what do I have to lose?
“Is there a class tonight?” I ask Sam.
“It’s actually tomorrow. Tonight we have a movement class. I’d love to invite you.”
“Movement?”
“Yes, it’s a free moving class where women dance and allow their bodies to guide them according to the rhythm of the music.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. Thank you, anyway.”
“It’s quite empowering to move around as your body wants without caring what others think. We judge ourselves more than anyone else judges us.” She smirks.
You see, guru. This woman can’t be real.
“Sam?” I hear someone call.
“If you need to go, please don’t feel obligated to stay with me,” I tell her.
“Nonsense. In here, Mikayla.” Sam winks.
Suddenly, my heart beats faster. I’m nervous about talking to Mikayla about this. Maybe because she knows my friends. Did Olivia ever mention Josh’s death to her?
“Oh, hi,” she smiles.
“Hi, I’m Bri.” I stand.
“Olivia’s friend! Hey. Please, sit.” She motions me with her hands, and I take my seat again. I watch as Mikayla makes tea and turns to me.
“How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. You?”
“Good. Running around trying to get here on time.”
I might as well tell her why I’m here right off the bat. No use in small talk. “Liv mentioned you guide an art therapy group. I was wondering if you could tell me more about it. Sam told me it’s tomorrow, and I kinda showed up without checking. I’d probably chicken out had I known for sure,” I babble.
“I’d love for you to join us. I call it art therapy, but it’s a combination of meditation and painting. Eyes open, of course. I guide with phrases or key words, and people paint what they’re feeling. I’m sure Sam explained a bit.” She looks at her friend and smiles.
“When you’re painting, you enter this tunnel. People follow their intuition, colors that may come to mind as I speak, and stroke the canvas or paint something more concrete. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is taking the time for self-care and working through your emotions.”
So much talk about emotions makes me antsy.
“We meet Tuesdays at seven. First class will be on me.” Her smile grows.
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“I know, but that will guarantee you show up.” She winks, and I laugh.
“Touché.”
“I invited her to stay tonight for our movement class,” Sam speaks up.
“I appreciate it, but I think the art group may be more my thing.”
“We give cookies at the end,” Mikayla whispers.
These two are good at hooking people. Or I’m that vulnerable. “I can’t say no to cookies. I only ask that you’re patient with me if I don’t dance around so much.”
“No one’s going to judge you,” Sam repeats. I nod and smile, finishing off my tea. This is like the twilight zone. When in my life did I think I’d walk into a pristine center and find myself face to face with two women eager to share their wisdom and I’d buy into it?
A little while later, a few other women arrive dressed in more comfortable clothes than my work attire. They all seem nice—shy and measured. Knowing this is a place that caters mostly to women who have gone through some unimaginable things, I can imagine how suspicious they’d be of someone new joining them.
Soon after they all arrive, we enter a bigger room. The same pale blue covers these walls. A small shelf sits on a table with different stones. From the corner, soft music plays.
Sam introduces me and speaks a little about the benefits of moving and dancing. Apparently, it moves your body’s energy and raises your endorphins, which make you happy. It also raises your self-esteem and opens your creativity. I don’t understand some stuff she mentions, but listen anyway.
After some time, heavy drumming starts to play from the speakers and the women slowly begin shaking their hips. I watch, unsure of myself. As much as I’ll dance in a bar, this is different. At a bar, people are drinking, I’m drinking, and everyone is too busy to look at you. It happens naturally, too. Here it’s almost forced, but as I look around, I realize the women aren’t looking at me to see how I move.
With the next song, the beat resonates more with me. I sway slowly, getting a feel for it. By the fourth song, I’m dancing, albeit timidly, yet moving my entire body. I watch in awe how the women get so into it and how happy and confident they seem. These are women, which although I don’t know their exact story, I can estimate what it is, and their happiness is infectious.
If they can laugh again, then so can I. Right?
By the end of the class, we’ve done a short yoga cool down and some of the women share how they feel. I learn one woman was physically and verbally abused by her partner for years. I give thanks in that
moment for my healthy relationship and the love Josh and I had. I rather that than a lifetime of misery and pain. It’s humbling to hear their stories.
Olivia is overjoyed that I went to visit Mikayla. Her squeals when I told her almost left me deaf, but I smiled regardless. I called her as soon as I left and explained it all to her. She made me promise to let her know how the art class goes and hung up with a, “I’m proud of you.”
I smile to myself now as I lie in bed. I miss my conversations with Cole, but I don’t dare to call him, so as to not to lead him on. I hate that this happened, but I’m not the person he needs in his life.
I wonder what Josh would think if I ever started dating again. Would he want that? If I were in his shoes, would I want him to move on with someone else after I’ve passed?
It’s hard to tell. The selfish side of me wouldn’t want him to be with anyone else. However, I know that would be impossible. I’d want him to be happy. I’d want him to live his life to the fullest and experience everything there is.
So why don’t you take your own advice?
I roll my eyes. I’m not ready. Maybe one day.
“You’re finally here,” Olivia greets me.
I roll my eyes exaggeratedly. “Traffic,” I throw as a sorry excuse.
“Yeah, right.”
I take a seat across from her, grateful for some girl time. I’m slowly trying to stay busy, and spending time with Olivia will always be good for me.
“How was the art class?” she asks.
“Therapy,” I correct her.
“Whatever. Isn’t Mikayla awesome?”
I smile. Mikayla is definitely great. “It was good. Interesting. You know me, I’m not artistic. I leave that up to you and your graphic design skills. However, it was cool. It was like a meditation at first and then we painted. Whatever colors came and whatever we wanted to paint. She played relaxing music and spoke throughout. Mostly, I was focused on the paintbrush and colors.”
“I’m glad. Do you think it helped?”
“Kinda. I think what’s helping more is witnessing women, who have suffered so much worse, survive and lift themselves up. If they can, why can’t I?”
Olivia nods. “You’re right. Only you can stand in your own way of happiness.”
I giggle. “You been talking to Mikayla? Sounds like something she would say.”
“I’d like you to know, I’m quite wise. Now, are you drinking wine or beer?” I laugh louder and reply with wine.
Glasses served, and the full-bodied red easing me, I tell Olivia more about my time at Eloise Center. She catches me up on the band, deliberately leaving Cole out, and tells me about Jen’s latest antics. It doesn’t matter how long she’s been married for, Jen will always be a wild one. Ryder is perfect for her.
“Have you spoken to Wendy again?” Olivia asks.
“I spoke to her the other day. We’re going to try to get together next week. It’s hard with Brett and all.”
Olivia nods. “Poor kid,” she whispers.
“I know. That was one thing I was grateful for. As much as I wanted to have a baby with Josh, I’m glad we waited. Not sure how strong I’d be in that situation.”
“You’re strong, Bri. So strong.” Olivia reaches for my hand.
“Thanks, Liv. Speaking of babies…” I arch an eyebrow.
“Nothing yet.” She frowns and drinks more wine.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to. Stressing will only make it more of a challenge.”
“I know. Cash says the same thing.”
“You two will be amazing parents one day soon. I can’t wait to have a little niece or nephew.”
Olivia’s smile covers her face. “Or both!”
I nod. “Could be both. No need to stop at one.”
“Thanks, Bri. I needed this. It’s been wearing me down a bit that we haven’t gotten pregnant yet. I know it hasn’t been that long since we started trying, but still.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Sisters,” she smirks.
“Sisters.”
We spend the night eating way more than we should and talking about everything. I finally cave and ask about Cole. Olivia’s response isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, but there’s not much I can do.
“He’ll overcome it,” she reassures me. “I guess he’s liked you for a while, but never had a chance with Josh and all.”
I inhale deeply and slowly release it. “If we were in an alternate world, who knows, Liv?”
“Yeah.” She leans her chin on her hands and sighs.
As I drive home, Cole sneaks into my mind. He’s a great guy and it doesn’t hurt that he’s good-looking. Despite his man whore reputation, Cole is sweet and funny. Had we met at another time, things could’ve been different. Right now, they’re just complicated. I’m not ready to fully let go of Josh, let alone allow another man to take his place. Josh is irreplaceable.
With Liza’s help, I’ve come up with a longer list of “Just Bri,” as I like to call it. As soon as I told her about my first experience at the Eloise Center a few weeks ago, she went into super counselor mode. Instead of three things I’d like to do, we expanded that list. I have included visiting Napa Valley, horseback riding, paintball, and dying my hair a crazy color. I’m not sure how much that last one would fly at work, but it’d be fun. I didn’t tell Liza, but one thing I threw around in my head was getting a tattoo. Something that would symbolize Josh. I’m not sure yet what it would be.
I skim the list I made with her while I cuddle with Dixie on the couch and choose one thing to work on this weekend. It has been a long week, and I’m looking forward to Saturday and Sunday.
I know Cash’s dad has horses, but the band has been traveling to and from places for appearances. It’s a weekend they’re home, and I rather let him and Olivia spend time together instead of bothering them with some bucket list nonsense.
I can’t keep baking and eating more than my daily calorie intake in one sitting. I need something else. Something outside of the house.
Hot air balloon ride.
Hmmm… I look out the window. Maybe for spring.
I look back at the list, the word tattoo standing out. That’s permanent, and I have to be sure of what I want that would perfectly represent Josh. I grab my phone and open my trusty Pinterest app to search for ideas.
An incoming text gets me out of my daze. That Pinterest rabbit hole gets me every time. I went from tattoo ideas to wall art to recipes and back to tattoos.
Liv: hey babe, what are you up to this weekend?
Bri: nothing. looking through my list of things I made with Liza
Liv: how about we do something! I have a surprise
Bri: ??
Liv: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 10. don’t be late!
Bri: you’re not gonna tell me?
Liv: nope… more fun that way
Bri: I hate surprises
Liv: I know :)
I roll my eyes and stand to make dinner. At least cooking will entertain me in the meantime. With music playing from my phone, I get to fixing one of my favorite pasta recipes. Found on Pinterest, of course, along with the other four thousand pins I have.
I don’t want Olivia taking time away from being with Cash to surprise me, but she seemed so excited in her messages.
After dinner, I settle back on the couch with a glass of wine and Dixie. I turn on the TV and search for a movie. I stop scrolling when I see Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Perfect night. Only thing better would be Josh, but I’m working on accepting that won’t be happening again in this lifetime.
With Dixie’s soft fur and the wine, I’m totally relaxed. I have no idea what Liv has planned tomorrow, but I know she won’t disappoint.
I stretch and yawn as the movie finishes and let Dixie out in the yard before heading into my room. Sleep hits me before I even roll onto my side.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask Liv as she dri
ves toward downtown.
“Not yet. I like to see you all concerned about where I’ll take you. Enjoy the ride, Bri.” She laughs and puts the volume up on her radio, singing along to the latest Carrie Underwood song.
“Ugh, she has a great voice,” Liv says after her high-pitch attempt is a failure. I laugh at her reaction.
“She’s a fantastic singer,” I tell her.
“And so nice. I remember the first time I met her. I about peed myself, and I had just peed.”
I hoot as I remember that story. Being married to Cash Knight gets you a lot of perks, meeting other country singers being one of them.
“The Hyatt?” I look over at her, my eyebrows scrunched.
She grins widely. “Wait and see.”
We valet and I follow Olivia, noticing other women walking in. I squint my eyes to read one woman’s shirt.
“No fucking way!” I look over at her. “You brought me to the romance book signing of the year and didn’t warn me. My hair’s a mess. Oh my God! I have books that could be signed.”
Olivia bends over laughing. “Relax. They’ll be selling books. Cash gave me unlimited spending. He wants to do anything to help,” she shrugs. “Don’t worry. We can use our money. I’ll only tap into his if we buy way too many books and want to get drinks after.”
I love Liv.
“Do you know how many authors are going to be here? I’m freaking out.” Olivia looks over at me, her cackles drawing attention. “Shh! Stop laughing, people are staring.”
“Who cares! I’m ecstatic you love your surprise.”
We walk into the hall where the signing is taking place and the number of tables set up with precious books is overwhelming. We stroll around the space, looking at the authors signing, and I start to formulate a plan.
Before I know it, I have a stack of books I’m carrying around. We did not come prepared.
“Liv, we should’ve brought some totes or one of those wheeled cart things.” I point to an admirable bookworm rolling her books in a cart.
“I didn’t think that far ahead.” Olivia shrugs.
“Okay, are you ready for Jessica Sorensen? I loved her Nova and Quinton series. She also has some paranormal you’d enjoy.”
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