New Year, New You

by Tarrah Anders

  picture people sitting enjoying a beverage of their choice on a warm summers night. From the walkway, I stare at the

  enormous house taking everything in as the front door opens and a slightly older gentleman steps onto the porch.

  “A magnificent beast, isn’t she?” He yells out to us.

  My eyes meet his, they seem warm, but we’re still

  about fifty feet away. I feel Gabe’s hand on my lower back and my feet begin moving on their own towards the house.

  “My parents bought this place for twenty grand and

  passed it down to me.” He expands his arms proudly.

  “It’s a beautiful house.” I agree with him.

  “You must be Vanessa, My name is Pete. It’s a pleasure finally meeting you and putting your face to all the swoony stories this guy here tells me.” Pete shakes my hand while hitching his thumb at Gabe.

  “You make it sound like I’m a lovesick teenager.”

  Gabe grimaces.

  “I call them as I see them friend. C’mon, let’s get

  inside. I have cookies.” He smiles turning back towards the house.

  We follow him and as soon as we cross the

  threshold, the smell of cookies hits me. I look to Gabe and quirk my eyebrow. He shrugs as he leads me through the

  house.

  The inside is just as immaculate as the outside with

  hardwood floors, white paneled wainscoting with some

  iridescent wall paper throughout the areas that I can see from the front foyer. There are modern touches throughout the

  house such as recessed lighting, double paned windows, and as we walk into the kitchen, updated appliances. The house is amazing, and I’m not afraid to drool a little bit.

  “Do you normally work out of the house?” I ask.

  “I have a study here on the first floor with its own

  side entrance on the side of the porch. Some of my clients use that entrance, others don’t. I have no real preference.”

  “Does it always smell like cookies?” I smile.

  “Never. I feel like he’s trying to impress you.” Gabe

  says, slinging his arm over my shoulders.

  “My New Year’s resolution was to cook more. My waistband isn’t too appreciative, but my stomach is and if it smells delicious in here, then all the more better.” Pete

  smiles handing me a napkin wrapped cookie.

  “It does. You might need to add baking to you

  practice necessities when you do your advertising.” I smile.

  “I’ll add that to the yearly business plan.” He

  proudly smiles. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.” Gabe says, steering me in the opposite

  direction to where I am assuming is the study.

  The study is homey, with two love seats facing

  another with a coffee table in between, bookshelves line one wall, while a drink valet sits against the other wall with photos and certificates above it. There is a bay window and the side door which Pete mentioned previously. Gabe sits

  down on the couch and I sit beside him, taking his hand in my lap when he offers it.

  “So how do we do this?” I ask nervously.

  “Well, there is no program that I follow. We simply

  talk. If you want to speak you can, if you just want to

  observe Gabe and I, you may as well. You are under no

  circumstances required to do anything or participate if you don’t want to.” Pete explains.

  “Okay.” I say.

  “Okay. You play whichever role you feel

  comfortable with. I assume you are aware of the

  circumstances which brings Gabe to therapy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. And Gabe, we discussed over the phone that there is nothing you want to hide from Vanessa, you said

  that everything is free range, am I correct?” Pete looks to Gabe who nods. “Alright then. How are the emotions after

  the holidays? Christmas, New Years?”

  Gabe clears his throat and goes into talking about

  how we celebrated, how he finally shared his job choice and over our drunken New Years and our hangover day. He then

  goes into starting his new job, the convention he attended downtown and then how we’ve settled into a good working

  pattern. Pete doesn’t take any notes, which I like as if feels like he is actually listening and involved in the conversation.

  He interjects for clarification or if Gabe is unable to form the correct meaning to what he would be saying. When Pete asks Gabe about his job, my ears perk up and all my attention is focused on his mouth and the words coming out of it.

  “I feel like working stateside is very different than in

  another country. But overall, it’s the same. I know that I can thrive with this company.”

  “And are you happy with your choice by choosing

  this company? On a professional level?” Pete asks.

  “I think that it was the wisest choice. I did my

  research, I applied to only places that I could see myself at.

  I’ve got unlimited resources with this company too,

  something that I never had before in France was the benefit of travel. It’s been discussed briefly just today, that I could have an opportunity to head on over to Ireland and Brussels to promote the company for business.”

  “That’s different. You were confined to the office

  for the majority of your previous job, correct?”

  “Yes. While I’m well-traveled, I want to experience it with Ness too.” He smiles as he looks at me with fondness.

  “That brings me to my next question, on a personal

  level, how do you feel with your choice for your company

  being here in San Diego?” Pete asks look between the both

  of us.

  “Honestly?” Gabe starts. “Personally, it was the best

  choice for me and for us. While I took our relationship into heavy consideration with all the offers, I wouldn’t have

  chosen a company and settled just because my heart is here in San Diego. I want my cake and to eat it too, I’ve got the girl and I’ve got a job where I feel like I can grow in.”

  “And how does that make you feel?” Pete asks him.

  “Content. Excited. Nervous.” Gabe rattles off.

  “Why nervous?”

  “Nervous because like any relationship you want it

  to be a success. I’m fully confident in us, but I’m nervous that Ness isn’t. Not to put you on the spot babe. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I whisper.

  “In the off chance that your relationship isn’t a

  forever relationship, does that change your view?”

  “Not at all.” He says without thought.

  “Can I say something?” I clear my throat as Pete

  nods.

  “I think what Gabe is referring to is that we had a discussion where I unloaded that I felt guilty for him

  choosing San Diego because of me, our relationship.”

  “Thank you for the clarification. Do you still feel

  this way?” Pete asks me.

  Suddenly, I feel on the spot and I can feel my cheeks

  reddening. Gabe squeezes my hand in reassurance.

  “Yes and no. We talked about his reasons for

  choosing San Diego, and while they were really good reasons aside from our relationship, a part of me can’t help but to still nag in my subconscious about it.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  “I wonder about the what ifs. What if he chose New

  York and lived rent free in the Village, what if he chose

  Seattle and walked to one of the thousand Starbucks in a

  block vicinity, or what if he chose LA and met the stars? I can’t control where my thoughts go, but it’s like I feel guilty that he’s staying here in San Diego for wrong reasons, even though h
e already assured me that those aren’t valid reasons.

  My brain works overtime sometimes.” I apologize.

  “Those are all valid thoughts. But I think that the

  main point is that you even said that you know the reasons for Gabe choosing this location to stay. You also pointed out that those are just what ifs, and as a human being that is apart of what makes us unique. What ifs are continuous.” He shifts in his seat. “What if I ate this versus that? What if I went here versus there? It’s happened chance, but it doesn’t define what we do and who we are ultimately. I salute the both of you for talking openly about your feelings and your

  thoughts, I challenge you to continue to do so together.”

  The remainder of the session, the focus changed from our relationship to Gabe, his career and his past. I can see how talking to Pete levels him out, and I even felt

  validated by the brief moment that I spoke during the

  session. As we were standing to leave, Pete welcomed me

  back, telling me there will be more cookies and then shook my hand. He gave me his card, which I thumbed the entire

  way home while Gabe held my other hand. We drove in

  silence until we reached the driveway when Gabe turns to

  me.

  “Thank you.” He simply says turning off the

  ignition.

  “Thank you for letting me come, get a peek inside

  your brain.”

  “I hope you were offended or embarrassed by

  anything that I said.”

  “Not at all, I feel a little lighter being able to say my

  feelings out loud I guess.”

  “You think you will call and go back? You can come

  with me again if you feel comfortable like that.” He offers.

  “That’s your time, I wouldn’t want to impose. I

  think I might, Pete seems like a good guy.”

  Gabe motions for us to exit the car, as we meet at the

  front of the car he pulls me to him and leans down for a kiss.

  We take the kiss to a whole other level in front of the house that I can feel my heartbeat down below. I start to push him into the house, yet his lips stay attached to mine.

  “Get a room!” I hear called from Mindy next door as

  I pull back.

  “I’m trying!” I yell back as Gabe laughs and opens the door.

  As soon as the door is closed, Gabe takes one look at

  me and then grabs my hand to drag me to the bedroom. Once

  across the doorway, he begins ripping his clothes off. My

  hands get to work to disrobe as well, neither of us are paying attention to what is and what’s not graceful as I almost fall flat on my face as my heel gets caught in my jeans. As my

  head is stuck in my shirt, I feel his large hands on my hips, he grabs the remainder of the shirt and yanks it over my head with ease, smiles as our eyes meet and then lowers his head to take my mouth in his. His tongue seeks mine out and

  mingles together fiercely, while our hands roam with

  determination. Gabe starts to direct my body in the direction, I can only hope is the bed which as I bump into a hard

  surface, I realize it is not. He’s backed me up against my desk, the very same desk I used to do my homework on as a

  teenager. He lifts me to sit on the surface as his hand palms my breast, with his fingers he tweaks my nipple and as if the touch was a trigger, my back arches and our kiss is severed.

  He lays open mouthed kisses along the column of my neck,

  and trails down to my chest. As he gets on his knees, he

  pushes my legs apart and pulls me to the edge of the table.

  Without hesitation, I grip the edge of the desk as his tongue licks up my center. I throw my head back and it’s not long before I’m seeing stars, vivid colors are erupting behind my closed eyes, and I’m grinding myself against his mouth. He slows his movements and detaches himself from my body

  with a soft kiss to the inside of my thigh.

  His lips glisten with my moisture and as he stands,

  he slowly licks them. My body visibly shudders at the

  seductive fire in his eyes; I could combust all over again. He pulls my hands towards the bed and falls in the center. I

  position myself over him and grab him to line him up with my core. I stoke him a few times before fully sliding down to which he groans loudly and arches his back slightly. With

  his hands gripping my hips, he guides me at the speed that works for him, we move in tandem with the ultimate goal in mind, to please one another.

  And we did, several times before falling to sleep.

  C H A P T E R

  Twenty-Six

  I sat on the couch silent for several minutes while I

  observed the space I was in. It’s wasn’t a stuffy atmosphere which I assumed it would be at first, it’s not very clinical, it feels more like a home than a practice or a business. Pete sits back casually with one leg crossed over the other and his

  arm on the back of the couch. He’s not pressuring me to say anything other than to praise him, jokingly of course on his cookies. He baked snicker-doodle cookies, which are rich in the actual candy and not the brown sugar and cinnamon.

  While I informed him of the differences, he now assumes

  that he has crafted a never done before flavor of cookie,

  which could be possible.

  It’s a friendly exchange, and that’s comforting as I

  ponder where to begin, so instead of worrying myself, I ask:

  “Where do we begin?”

  “That’s up to you. We can talk about the weather, or

  we can talk about your weekend plans. You can determine

  how deep we go. You have control over the entire

  conversation at all times.” He says calmly.

  “Did Gabe tell you anything about my past? I guess

  it’s wise to start there.” I shrug.

  “He mentioned that you went through something tragic along the lines of what he went through, more

  personal but I did not dig further, as it is not his story to tell.”

  I nod. “My parents died. My brother too. They were

  in a car accident here in San Diego, and I was living in

  Arizona. I moved back to deal with the house and everything else. Then Gabe happened and that bring us to today.”

  “So any reason why you chose to give the abridged

  version versus the more in depth?”

  “It’s easier, tear off the Band-Aid quicker.”

  “Any other siblings?” Pete asks.

  “Nope. Just me now.”

  “So, you uprooted your life in Arizona to come here

  and close up everything on your families behalf, did you

  intend to stay?” He asks.

  The thought never occurred to me that I wasn’t

  going to. I assumed that once the accident happened that my life in Arizona was finished, that I would need to come home and this would become where I stayed. I don’t think I even considered the option that I could have went back to

  Arizona. So I reiterate my realization to Pete and he

  continues asking questions. We dig into my friendship with Mindy and my work, and before I know it the time is up. We say our goodbyes and schedule another visit a week from

  now.

  Over the next two weeks, the sessions with Pete get

  deeper and my previous fears are touched as I tear up when discussing the memorial services and going through their

  belongings. While in the days and months after the accident and coming back to my childhood home, I released a lot of

  tears, they were on the surface. The tears that I wept now were stored emotions over the situation. Gratefulness for the friendship of Mindy and Dave, the companionship of Stella

  and the blossomed love of Gabe. I left each session feeling like a weight was lifted; however w
ondering when we would

  touch on the guilt that arises in conjunction with Gabe

  choosing San Diego over one of his other options.

  Pete explained that in due time, everything will

  unravel and he was right. I have been going to therapy

  steadily for three months, our topics ranged from light to heavy. Gabe joined in on a few of my sessions at the request of Pete and vice versa with Gabe’s sessions. Gabe’s guilt

  with his best friend’s death versus his ex-girlfriends was similar to mine, it was survivors guilt mixed with a little bit of abandonment. Once Pete explained to me what he thought

  I was dealing with, it all clicked. The light bulb went off, the film was ripped off of my eyes and suddenly as if in fast

  forward, or rewind - everything was becoming clearer for

  me. I understood my feelings, while I’ve lived on my own

  for the past few years, in a different state than my family; they now were no longer an option for me to go to.

  I allowed myself only to feel half of what I should

  have been feeling. I wish that I could say I wasn’t a

  blubbering mess by the end of the day, but that would be

  completely false, and I don’t want to start getting in the habit of lying to myself. I cried all the way home after my light bulb session, I contained it until I got in my car, but as soon as that door closed, the floodgates were open and snot was coming out my nose just as fast as tears were coming out of my eyes. While I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from just speaking to Pete and having the constant support from

  Gabe, I feel like it’s been replaced with too many emotions, and I’m not used to it I’m not a very emotional person as it is, so the mess that I am, I’m not completely comfortable

  with.

  Instead of walking into my house, I walk across the

  lawn and head to Mindy’s house. She and Stella are standing at the counter as I walk in the side kitchen door. One look at my face, Mindy ushers Stella into the living telling her she can watch whatever she wants on the television and pours

  me a glass of water. I must look dehydrated if she’s pouring me water over wine.

  “What did my brother do?” She asks standing across

  from me.

  “Nothing, unless you consider the fact that I’m in