by Jane Preston
The doctor was quick to respond. “It's a special method for resolving emotional wounds, the kind of wounds that can poison our lives, although they are silent and often virtually ignored." She mentally noted that Maureen was carefully taking this in and added: "This healing modality also calls attention to the fact that while many of us are making admirable efforts to ‘green’ and clean up the environment, our deep, dark emotions - like anger, anxiety and depression - all too often remain intact, acting as pollutants in our lives and the lives of others.”
The therapist was quiet for a few moments, allowing for any response from Maureen before continuing.
After a couple of beats, her soothing voice filled the office surroundings again, although there was no mistaking her message. “And whether we are consciously aware of it or not, Maureen, our deep emotional hurts, such as the sexual abuse you may very well have suffered, inform our daily reactions and decisions."
Then, the therapist's face visibly brightened. "Once safely healed, however, we can make far healthier choices regarding our relationships, work life, and home life. ‘Greening’ your emotions may be uncomfortable work, at least at first, but I have found in my practice that it can be very valuable.”
***
Fifteen minutes and yet another steaming cup of green tea later, the Munsters’ doorbell broke the stillness of Maureen's solitary ruminations.
Despite her inward groan, Maureen was secretly relieved to be jolted out of her all-too-lucid recollection of the doctor’s carefully-chosen words.
But after the successful romance novelist accepted another dozen perfect red roses from the Fast Flowers delivery boy, shut the door and quickly scanned the attached card (from Sterling Matthews – who else?), she let out an audible sigh of resignation.
In spite of her dismay, her heart was thumping against her ribcage in that old school-girl way.
Well, she thought, it looks like I’m going to need the good doctor’s advice after all, and she headed to the bright morning kitchen to place the fragrant blooms in their precious new cut-crystal home, the most beautiful vase she owned.
***
Candace had been particularly cool to him since Lucy Troppe had begun her twice-weekly, very private visits to his office. No wonder, Sterling thought, as he breezed into his office with his customary, bright morning greeting only to be met once again by her moist-eyed, doleful expression, uncharacteristic for a woman so full of vigor.
"And herself," he muttered under his breath, reaching his office door in several brisk steps to turn the brass knob to his elite, confidential business quarters.
What Candy doesn’t know, he thought, with a glance out the second-story windows facing the downtown city park, its seasonal flowers in marvelously full bloom, is that Lucy has damaging information on me. And she has absolutely no problem holding it over my head, brandishing it like a weapon. Which it was.
He breathed out slowly, consciously contracting his diaphragm. As his eyes surveyed the brilliant hues of lavender, amber, tangerine and scarlet of the scene below him, meticulously arranged in the octagonal courtyard as if it were his very own palace garden, he couldn’t help but reflect on how Maureen would react to his second delivery of roses this morning.
They should have arrived by now, he thought, and quickly grabbed his iPad to check the tracking number on the website of Fast Flowers.
They had. Just minutes ago.
A sweet, childlike smile gradually spread across his face, softening the grim tightness which had lately become an almost permanent fixture between his perfectly-shaped brows.
But, a shadowy grimace immediately followed. Boy, life was sure dolling out the lessons. Lucy had practically enslaved him as the price for her continued silence, prancing in here on Tuesdays and Thursdays in her heavy eye make-up and those high, high heels, like she owned the place. He never thought he’d look upon those regular-as-clockwork intimate office visits as a chore. But they were.
It won’t always be this way, he reassured himself. I’ll be free again.
Soon enough to get Maureen for keeps. Then, I’ll never let her go.
At that moment, Candace vigorously pounded on his door with knocks resembling rapid gunfire, then abruptly pushed it open to sourly announce: “Dr. Matthews, Lucy Troppe has arrived. Shall I show her in?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“So, Dr. Brice, tell me once more. What exactly are emotional workouts?” Maureen sat at the edge of the sofa, a cup of tea balanced on her knee, eager to commence her next therapy session with the psychologist. She still had a goal uppermost in mind: of confronting and vanquishing the oppressive issues that persisted in her relationships with men, ruining her dating life and leaving her reluctantly in a still-single status.
She inwardly groaned. Here I am a romance novelist and I have the worst love life ever.
Biting her lip, Maureen quickly reminded herself that any newfound clarity might breathe much-needed life into the Amber and Jared love story; those two were still at a stand-off in the imaginary world the author was struggling to build around them.
If they would only cooperate, she thought, as the therapist gathered her notepad before sitting down opposite her. Amber was maddeningly resistant, still holding her own, waving her independence like a red flag in front of Jared, who, lately, had become resigned, gloomy and withdrawn.
Not romantic at all.
Frustrated, Maureen impatiently took a noisy sip of tea.
“To answer your question, Maureen,” the therapist began as she settled comfortably on the cushions of her seat, “Emotional workouts are just like they sound: exercises that move the toxic emotions out of the body. Again, those are the emotions that don’t feel good - like anger, depression and sadness.” She paused for a moment, apparently trying to decide how best to proceed. “Let me say first, that emotional workouts are not for everyone. There are many healing modalities; this is only one of those alternatives. But I specialize in this kind of therapeutic release and, once you learn the skills, you can use them to your benefit for the rest of your life.”
Warming to her subject, Dr. Brice went on. “Another thing to keep in mind, Maureen, is that once these so-called ‘bad’ emotions are safely and responsibly released, you’ll very likely find that your life – and your relationships – begin to feel easier. That’s because you are not nearly as susceptible to being stimulated by old, repressed emotions. You can then make healthier, happier decisions about how to handle challenges, rather than simply having a knee-jerk reaction as the result of old, subconscious emotional scripts that no longer serve you.”
Dr. Brice paused to take a sip from her own cup of tea before putting it down with care. “You may find that, after doing this work for a while, possibly a relatively short amount of time, you don’t attract the same kinds of negative situations which have historically left you feeling frustrated and helpless. This can become true in all areas of your life: work, relationships, health and, even, finances.”
She looked steadily at her client for a few meaningful moments. “Again, Maureen, it’s not the only answer, and it’s not necessarily the entire answer, but I think it could work well for you in your healing process. In my professional opinion, it’s at least worth a try.”
Maureen enthusiastically agreed. Everything the psychologist had shared made instant sense. Besides, the idea of moving poisonous, outdated emotions out of her system felt right to her.
Dr. Brice offered to fix another hot cup of tea.
Maureen was all for it as the day, having started out brilliantly with a strong, optimistic sun had, within the last few hours, suddenly darkened to make way for a few scattered late afternoon thundershowers. She was glad she remembered to bring her umbrella. It was her favorite color: blue.
As the therapist approached Maureen’s sofa with a replenished, briskly hot tea, she added: “I won’t lie to you, Maureen. Working through unhappy emotions is no fun. That’s why people often try to override those difficul
t feelings and, instead, become addicted: alcohol, drugs, food, promiscuous sex, romantic highs, video games, the list goes on. No one wants to feel bad. If you think about it, most of us do things because we want to feel good.”
Dr. Brice returned to the floor’s small utility kitchen to retrieve her own piping hot cup. Walking back, the cup in its saucer gently clattering, she concluded: “But the emotional workouts are worth it, Maureen. If you stick with this effective and powerful form of alternative therapy for at least several sessions, I think you’ll start to see what I mean. After a good, deep emotional workout, I always feel, well, clean.”
She shrugged, as she sat down.
Then, for the first time during a therapy session with Maureen, the psychologist laughed light-heartedly as she motioned towards the sliding glass door in her home-office, where a thin layer of water was cascading down its surface.
“Clean,” she said again. “Like I’ve just been washed by the rain.”
***
The red light was blinking on Maureen’s answering machine when she walked in the front door that night, tired, and weighed down by three grocery bags and her usually-bulky purse. She heaved everything in her arms on to her granite kitchen countertop and walked over to push the play button on the machine.
Returning to the chore of unloading the groceries into the refrigerator and cabinet space – she’d bought a new green-and-jasmine tea to put in a special place above the stove – Maureen found herself softly humming as she listened to the messages.
Leslie had called first. She’d found a new man and that’s why she hadn’t been around lately. She was in love again and wanted to know if she could stop by soon, like maybe tomorrow morning, for a chat and a hot cup of something. But no green coffee.
Maureen chuckled, pleased to hear from her lively, but absent, friend. However, a stab of envy unexpectedly cut into her heart. Here Leslie was already moving on to the next Mr. Wonderful and she, Maureen, was in a therapist’s office learning how to do emotional workouts.
Turning her attention back to unloading the bags of bright red beefsteak tomatoes, romaine lettuce, cilantro and endive for a luscious salad to be tossed with her own homemade balsamic oil-and-vinegar dressing, she waited for the next message to play.
It was from Charlotte at Dr. Nelson’s office. Time for her six-month teeth cleaning. Can she make the appointment for 10 a.m. on Wednesday morning? Maureen made a quick mental note to call the dentist's office as soon as she was finished with putting away the groceries.
But when Maureen heard the very first sounds of his unforgettable, unmistakably sexy, male voice, her attention was immediately riveted.
“Hi, it’s me. Sterling. I hope you got the roses this morning. Just another way of letting you know that I can’t get you off my mind. I think about you all the time.” A meaningful pause followed. “Call me. Please.” His voice cracked, stirring her with its vulnerability.
Damn it! She exclaimed to herself. I need to get over that guy. Maddeningly, her heart was doing that ridiculous flip-flop, in spite of her good sense, which was telling her the truth: that Sterling was an emotionally dangerous man, an habitual womanizer who would only crush her. Again.
Maureen knew it was time for her very first emotional workout. The luscious salad would have to wait. Hurrying into her bedroom, closing the shades, and grabbing a large, soft pillow from the top of her bed, Maureen instinctively followed the instructions Dr. Brice had given her today.
For the next five minutes, she pounded the pillow, at times with grunting, all-out fury and, at other times, crying out with hot, painful, choking tears.
Maureen Beckley did what the doctor ordered.
She gave voice – and much-needed liberation - to the powerful emotions that had been activated since the very first day she’d met the gorgeous, infinitely-charming Sterling Matthews.
At last, Maureen collapsed on her bed, clinging to her pillow as though it was a lifeboat, and, in the familiar darkness of her room, softly cried some more.
***
That night, Maureen dreamed that she was back in Hawaii again. She greeted the fine, white sands, swaying palm trees and heaven-sent cerulean skies as if they were long-lost friends.
The dream seemed so remarkably familiar, even as she was dreaming it.
She was staying in the same house, located on a slight rise overlooking the beach. At least, she dreamed that she had dreamed of that exact same house before.
It, too, seemed like a long-lost friend.
Walking in sandals on the redwood balcony, she breathed in the rarified Hawaiian air. Nature appeared to be in her finest hour here.
Suddenly, she was hit by a flood of extreme feelings. They promised to overtake her like an emotional tsunami. The ocean, with its flashing metallic blues, was starting to swell larger and larger, threatening to drown whatever might be caught within its massive, unrelenting waves.
As the waters pounded the forgiving sands, over and over, Maureen thought: That’s the way I feel.
And she vowed then and there to never feel that way again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Leslie looked as bright and pretty as ever, even more so. The rosiness in her cheeks emanated from a natural, love-inspired blush; the inextinguishable morning sun in Maureen’s kitchen did nothing to upstage her.
Leslie was back in her element, head over heels about a brand new man. Maureen was alternately happy and understandably wary for her kindly, naïve friend.
Would this new guy treat her right? Always the question when Leslie was involved.
Maureen subtly checked out her neighbor’s trendy, new clothes, another sign that Leslie had been brought back to life by romance. The eggplant-colored knit baby doll top with its delicate, light pink lace around the V-neck was very becoming to Leslie’s porcelain complexion, which looked more radiant than Maureen had ever seen it before.
Boy, what a little passion can do. Maureen smiled to herself and offered to fix the luminous young woman a cup of tea. “It’s an intriguing blend of green and jasmine.”
“Divine, Darling. Simply divine.” Leslie was back to her old dramatic, but fun-loving, self.
Maureen moved to switch on the burner. The tea kettle which, in the past had brought much solace to her weepy friend, would now provide celebration.
It was about time. With all Leslie had endured in her turbulent love life, she sorely deserved a break.
And the break had finally come, this time in the name of Tim Keller.
***
“It just doesn’t seem fair, Dr. Brice.” Maureen was clutching a pitifully crumpled wad of Kleenex, already moistened by more than a few spontaneous tears. Seeing her friend, Leslie, this morning had been both a pleasure and a private disappointment, causing her to erupt in a second emotional release only minutes after her neighbor left.
Emotional workouts were hard on a person, it seemed to her. She said as much to her therapist.
“I hear you, Maureen. It’s important for you to acknowledge your true feelings.” Dr. Brice leaned towards her client. “At the same time, realize that these emotions will heal, especially as you progress in this type of therapy.” The psychologist quietly clasped her hands together and briefly glanced down at the gold carpeting on the floor.
Dr. Brice looked back into the teary eyes of the vulnerable woman sitting quietly on the sofa across from her. “Maureen, when you start doing emotional workouts, all sorts of feelings which have been disowned and repressed are going to surface to be acknowledged and released. It’s like a pressure cooker, which has been under pressure for years and years, finally being allowed to spew its contents. It’s not going to be pretty, nor easy.”
You can say that again, Maureen thought. She felt adrift on a dark, raging ocean filled with challenging emotions. She couldn’t go on this way much longer.
“How soon does it get better, Doctor?”
“It depends on the individual. But, generally, you should start to experien
ce a greater inner peace and well-being after several deep emotional workouts. Again, Maureen, it’s worth feeling this bad for a relatively short amount of time in order to feel so much better, cleaned out from toxic emotions that have been coloring your world longer than you know.”
At Maureen’s silence, the psychologist went on in a sensitive, respectful tone. “There are other benefits to doing this powerful emotional release work, Maureen. For instance, these workouts put you in touch with your deepest feelings, often revealing what you really want in life, whether it involves your current job, your dream career, relationships, or even where you want to live.” She stopped to take a breath. “Believe it or not, Maureen, but many people are disconnected from their real feelings."
Maureen looked up from nervously fidgeting with her worn-out Kleenex. “Doctor, that all sounds great. I-I wish I could be more enthusiastic right now. But I can’t.”