I pause, waiting for my therapist to pipe in, but when she doesn’t, I turn my head to look at her.
“Don’t you want to know how all of that made me feel?” I could sum it up in one single word. Shitty.
This weekend was completely and utterly, shitty.
I spent all day Saturday in my bakery, trying my hand at any assorted baked goods that I could find recipes for. Since I didn’t grab my own recipe book from Liam’s gym, and I sure as hell am not going back for it, I’ve had to scour the internet, and attempt to create new ones of my own.
After my third try at a batch of cookies, my smoke alarm tripped the fire department, and they arrived at my doorstep with lights and sirens still blazing. That’s the third time that they’ve showed up on my doorstep, by the way.
Talk about soul crushing.
After that blow to my self-esteem, I decided to really go all out, on the self destruction spiral of course, and meet Max for dinner. After two hours of sitting there, listening to him speak, and still feeling absolutely nothing, I went home, curled up in my bed, and cried myself to sleep.
There has been a lot of that in the last thirty days, and even I can admit, that I’m slowly sinking into a pit of despair.
I just wish that I could stop thinking about him. He circles my mind, more often than I care to admit, and every time his face flashes inside of my head, my stomach turns, and all of the air is sucked out of my lungs. It’s an awful feeling. I hate it so much, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stop imagining his face.
I just can’t do it.
“I don’t think that I really need to ask the question today, Abby.” Veronica, my current savior, and also, my shrink, finally fills the quiet room with her voice. “It’s pretty obvious that this weekend’s events were difficult for you.”
I want to snort.
Of course, they were difficult. The harder that I try to become the person that I used to be, the harder I fail every single time. I can’t even master a no bake cookie, let alone one that I have to bake in the oven. I can’t find a single level of connection with the man that at one time, I was going to marry, and I sure as hell can’t find it in me to get over the man that I lost six years ago.
I’m a complete fucking mess. My life currently, has no meaning, and my heart is shattered into pieces inside of my chest. I’m so damn lost, that I can’t even see a twinkling of light at the end of the tunnel. I have so many questions, and not enough answers.
I feel like I’ve failed myself, and that is a terrible way to feel.
Instead of responding with a snotty snort, however, I just turn my attention back to the ceiling, and shrug my shoulders.
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever given any thought, of trying to figure out who you are now?”
This time, I actually do snort.
Who I am now is someone that I don’t like very much. I’m a sad sack, a sad Sally. I’m lost, and lonely. I feel empty almost all of the time. And underneath all of that, is a whole hell of a lot of fear.
Imagine walking through the world, every day, with the threat of the unknown lingering just over your head, all of the time. That’s how I feel just about every day.
I’m clinging to the bits and pieces of my old life that I know, and the ones that make sense. Except in my case, not a lot makes sense anymore. Everything is just one big, clusterfuck.
“That seems pointless.” I blink a few times, trying to clear my thoughts. “I have no idea who I am.”
“Pizza or tacos.” I have no idea where she’s going with this.
“Tacos.” I shrug. “I’m not a huge fan of pizza. Is that weird?” She doesn’t respond, to which I take as a yes. It seems weird to me, too. Everyone that I know claims that pizza is the best food ever invented.
“Blue or green?” I decide to just go along with her.
“Blue.” It seems to look the best on me. I have that in common with my old self. My entire loft is painted a soft shade of blue.
“Night out, or night in?”
“In.” That’s easy. Being around too many people these days gives me nothing but anxiety.
“Liam or Maxwell?”
“Liam.” His name rushes off of my lips so easily, that I almost don’t realize the type of question that I’m answering. As soon as his name registers with me, though, that all too familiar angst inside of me nearly bubbles over. I sit upright, and stare at my therapist with wide eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” It just seems so cruel of her to bring him up. When we started our sessions three weeks ago, I was very specific that he was the one subject that I did not want to discuss.
“You like tacos.” She leans forward in her seat, tapping her pencil against the pad of paper in her hand. “You prefer the color blue, and you prefer to stay in as opposed to going out. You didn’t even flinch when asked which man you preferred, either. That is who you are, now, Abigail. Those are things about the new you. When I suggested that we take some time to figure out who you are now instead of trying to figure out who you used to be, this is what I meant.”
She meant to sucker punch me when I’m already down? Because that’s what she did. Just the mention of his name guts me. Hearing my own voice utter it was a cruel twist that I wasn’t prepared for. I’m already feeling rather weak today. This moment may have just done me in.
“I was very specific about my boundaries.” My voice is harsh, but she doesn’t even flinch. She should, I mean, I’ve never spoken to her in this tone.
“And I was very specific on what my role is here.” Ok, Veronica, I see you. She’s just as irritated as I am. “Brain injuries are a very specific class of people, and they need to be treated with care. I know that, and I’m trained for that. But yours is unusual, Abby. It’s not straightforward. And the more that I talk to you, the more that I think there is a bit more to your injury than just your accident.”
She has my full attention.
A computer screen is clicked on, and I watch as her finger points towards it.
“This is your MRI.”
I study it, even though, I have no idea what I’m actually looking for.
“The picture on the left is the picture of your brain less than twenty four hours after the accident.” She is now standing and pointing at the screen. “The one here on the right? This one was taken two weeks after your accident. Can you tell a difference?”
I shake my head.
I watch as her finger traces the outline of my brain in the first picture. She then points out the small areas of internal bleeding, and the areas of inflammation.
“The problem with you, Abby, is that the areas of your brain affected, don’t actually have anything to do with your memory. None at all, actually.”
I stare straight ahead at her, so focused on her words that I hardly even blink.
“Now yes, you struck your head very hard. But the parts of your brain that hemorrhaged shouldn’t have affected your memory in the way that they have. I would expect that you would have a hard time completely daily living tasks, things such as dressing, bathing, or walking. I would even suggest that you would struggle finding words. But none of those things happened after your accident. It’s quite odd that the only disability that you have from your tragedy, is memory loss. That part doesn’t fit with your injuries. Not at all.”
Well, I don’t know what to say to any of that. I sure as hell am not making any of this stuff up. As if she reads my mind, she sits back down, but this time, directly across from me. I stare forward at her, letting her kind eyes and easy demeanor settle the chaos burning inside of me.
“I know that you really are suffering from memory loss, Abby, I want you to know, that I don’t doubt that for a second. But I don’t think that it’s from the accident. I think that remembering who you are, is just too painful for you, and so in a way to protect yourself, your body shut down the pathway.”
“What?” That doesn’t make any sense to me at all. Why would my b
ody do this to me? How fucked up is that, actually?
“The first day that you arrived here, you were very specific about the things that were off limits to talk about. You only had one thing on that list, and that, was Liam.”
There she goes, saying his fucking name again. My cheeks flush and the pit in my stomach grows. I’m just about to ask her nicely for the last time to stop talking about him, when she yet again interrupts me.
“Your eyes flash every time I mention his name.”
No shit, Sherlock. That’s why he was off limits in the first place.
“Your entire demeanor changes, just by the sound of his name. Why do you think that is?”
I grunt. “Gee, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m in love with him, but I know that he can never be mine. Maybe it’s because I had to walk away from him and doing so just about killed me. Or, better yet, maybe it’s because I had to see firsthand, the fact that he has definitely moved on, and, is probably a father now.”
“Yes.” Veronica leans forward in her seat, her eyes locked on mine.
“That’s why he cannot be a forbidden subject. There is something there, Abby. Something that you are missing. You aren’t going to be able to heal until you have all of the details.”
I’m on my feet and pacing. When I’m standing up, the bile that threatens to climb up my throat and leave my body finally settles in my stomach. Even still, my nerves are all firing, and alarm bells are clanging loudly inside of my head. I hate this feeling. I fucking hate it so much.
“I tried to get the details.” My hands clench into fists at my sides. “But he wouldn’t give me what I needed. And no one wants to talk to me about it. Not him. Not my parents. Not Max. I don’t even know if Max knows who Liam is. I didn’t have any hidden photos of him. I’ve scoured my apartment. I have nothing to remind me of my time spent with him, no hidden clues to uncover the secrets of our past. And if I wouldn’t have stumbled upon that stupid letter, I wouldn’t be feeling like this right now, because I wouldn’t even know that he existed.”
“I don’t think that you stumbled upon anything.” Her eyes are hot on mine. “I think that story is one that you made up inside of your head, without even realizing it. I think that subconsciously, you knew that letter was there. You were drawn to it, because no matter what, you are drawn to him.”
“But I can’t have him.” I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. The one that forms whenever I realize how deeply I love that man, and just how much he will never be mine.
“He’s moved on. He has a girlfriend, and a child. I walked back into his life, and, it was a hurricane.” Shame washes over me, as I realize just how much damage I caused.
“I think that instead of therapy, Abby, you should really look into hypnosis.”
I shudder at the thought. I have serious trust issues, mostly because, I just don’t know who I can, and who I can’t trust. I appreciate Veronica trying to help me, honestly, I do. But hypnosis? My mother would scoff at the idea. I’m just about to say that, but something stops me.
Like so many other people in my life these days, I struggle to reconnect with my mother, on just about every level. Yes, she has been kind to me, and has helped me try to remember who I am. But most of the things that she tells me don’t exactly fit.
She told me that my relationship with Liam was just a tragic mistake, a small blip in the life that I used to have. She had told me that when I met Max, my world shifted, and I had finally found what I’d always been looking for.
But if that were the case, wouldn’t I be feeling this same way about him? Wouldn’t it be his touch that sets my soul on fire?
It would seem so.
“I’ll think about it.” I tell the woman staring at me with determined eyes. But deep down, I don’t think that I’ll decide to go for it.
“You should think hard about it.” Veronica’s voice is firm. “You should think very hard about it. He is the only one who can give you the answers that you need to move on. Maybe revisiting Indiana isn’t the worst scenario, Abigail. Yes, you already know that you can’t have him, however, you can have his truth. You owe it to yourself to discover it.”
The only thing that I discovered by going back to Indiana in the first place, is just how badly a broken heart feels. There’s no way that I can live through that twice.
Except, I already did.
21
Liam
It’s amazing what going through the motions, day after day, will do to you over a period of time. That’s the way that I’ve been feeling lately. As if I’m stuck in a rut, and am just carrying out my normal days, trying hard not to think too much about anything.
Even still, as much as I try to push her out of my mind, I really haven’t been able to do it. She’s right there, in the center of my head the second that my eyes open to greet the day. And then, when I try to close my eyes and get some much needed rest, she’s right there again, dancing just behind my eyelids.
Her voice rings through me, the sound of her laughter seeming so out of reach. I suppose that’s because it is. She’s gone, again. And I’m still here, still stuck in the exact same place.
It’s like déjà vu. The pain, the agony, the fucking longing for that girl, all repeating itself. Fate is a bitch, like that.
Even the way that she left me this time. If I would have recorded it the first time, and compared the two, they’d have been damn near identical. The fury in her eyes, all directed at me, gutted me wide open. The way that she spit her words at me, it was as if she was my biggest enemy, instead of my greatest love.
But I knew this would happen. I called it, from the very first moment that she walked back into my life. No amount of damage to her head could make her forget the way that I treated her back then, at least, not forever.
The complete indifference that I showed her. The way that I told her that my entire love for her was a lie. Her injury wasn’t my second chance. I knew that from the get-go.
It was just another cruel twist of fate, directed at me. It was because I had allowed myself to get too comfortable in life. I was too excited for this baby to arrive. I was happy with Letty, even though now, it seems like a total sham. My gym was booming, and my bank account was full.
The universe had to put me back into my place, one last time, letting the love that I lost consume me, and steal any future happiness right out from underneath my feet. Mission accomplished.
Now my soul, is just fucking weary.
Letty’s been in the hospital for nearly a month, both she and the baby still under the doctor’s close supervision. By the grace of God, my baby has made it to her delivery date, which is scheduled for first thing in the morning. That’s literally the only good thing in my life right now.
Letty’s been distant to me, since everything went down with Abby. She hasn’t asked me anything else about her, nor brought up the fact that I cheated on her with another woman while she’s been busy being pregnant with my child. I’m a real fucking chump like that.
Letting myself feel the way that I did after making love to Abby is the biggest mistake in the history of all things wrong. To sum it up, I’m a total piece of shit.
But I make a vow to myself, right here, right now. Today is the last day that I’m going to wallow around in self-pity. Abby has her memory back. She’s in no way in any danger. The marks on her neck were from something that I care not to ever mention again.
And with the return of her memory, came the return of her hatred for me. I deserve it. I’m not going to argue about it. And now, it’s time for me to let it all go.
I have a daughter coming in less than twenty four hours, and once she takes her first breath in this world, she will become my everything. I will build a life with Letty so that I can give my child the life that I never had growing up. I won’t allow myself to wallow in self-pity over what I lost. Instead, I will be thankful, for the life that I will get to watch be born and grow.
This is the last time tha
t I’ll come here. To this place, Abby’s place. The place that became ours. The place that my eyes were able to feast on her the very first time.
I came here today with only one thing on my mind. Saying goodbye. At least, a real goodbye. The one that I was never able to say to her face.
But today, as I approach her bench, I notice immediately that it’s already taken. A man is sitting there, staring out at the water, not making a sound. The only sound that I can hear, are the waves as they crash against the break wall. I almost walk away. I mean, the bench isn’t free for me today. It would be rude to interrupt this person, and slide in next to him. But then, my eyes adjust to his face, and as they do, an all too familiar feeling of anger bubbles up inside of me.
I haven’t seen this piece of shit in years, but his face is forever embedded into my memory. This sad sack of shit is the entire reason that I had to walk away from her in the first place.
Michael fucking Daron, the asshole, in the flesh.
If he hears me approaching, he doesn’t give me any indication of it. Even as I stand stock still next to him, his eyes don’t move to me. After a while, he grunts.
“I should have known you’d show up here.” His voice is clipped, but even though he tries to sound angry to see me, the despair in his voice is evident too.
“I come here often,” I tell him honestly. I’ve made it a point over the years to at least sit in my truck and stare out at this spot. Since the last time Abby left, I’ve come here more often, mostly because I’m damn good at self-loathing behavior. This is a prime example of that.”
“Do you ever think about that day?” Mr. Daron doesn’t look at me as he asks the question. He keeps his eyes firmly focused ahead, at the ice cold water. I don’t even hesitate to answer.
“I think about it every day.”
“What I did to you was wrong.” His voice trails off, and his eyes close. “It took me a long time to see that, Liam. But what I did.” His head falls. “It was so damn wrong.”
Worth Repeating (Worth It All Book 1) Page 15