A Life Without Regrets

by Marci Bolden

  She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. Everyone was constantly telling her how strong she was, how much strength she had in order to overcome so many tragedies. She didn’t feel strong, and trying was a bar set too far out of her reach right now. Right now, she was just trying to keep moving.

  “Everyone but you,” Simon added.

  There he went, calling her out as he had for as long as she’d known him. She wasn’t really in the mood for that.

  Carol set the rose quartz aside and slid from the booth. If she was going to get through this conversation, she would want a glass of wine. “I’ve spent a lot of time over the last year coming to terms with things,” she said as she grabbed a bottle from the fridge. “I’ve recognized that I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it’s not. I’ve finally allowed myself to mourn for Katie. My mother and I have never been closer. I’ve let go of old resentments that had been weighing me down for years. But you know what I haven’t been able to come to terms with yet?” she asked as she poured more rosé in the wineglass than she likely needed.

  “Losing your husband,” Simon said softly.

  Hearing him say the words made her chest ache and her eyes burn. “I’m so lost right now,” she admitted. She took a drink as she listened to the quiet on the line. “For some reason, I thought climbing into a raft and going over rapids was going to get me over this emotional blockage that’s preventing me from processing his death.”

  “You and Tobias had a great life together,” Simon offered, even though she hadn’t ever really delved into her marriage with him. He knew she loved her husband, but he didn’t know the millions of reasons why. “His loss was tragic and unexpected. You can’t put a time limit on grieving for that.”

  “This isn’t about putting a limit on my grief, Simon. It’s about my inability to feel things that hurt.” Sitting back in the booth, she stared at Mei’s stone but didn’t pick it up. Holding the gift felt like a betrayal to Harold’s strength when she could actually feel herself slipping into her negative thought patterns. “I had to protect myself emotionally from my parents as a kid. I had to learn to shut down so their words couldn’t hurt me. I’ve never unlearned that. Even now, turning off my emotions is my go-to when things get difficult. I’m more than halfway through my life. It’s time to break that cycle, but hell if I can figure out how.” Finding a therapist was a step in the right direction, but she wasn’t ready to share that decision just yet. Simon was a doctor. He wouldn’t judge her, but Carol wasn’t comfortable sharing how far she’d fallen.

  “Go easy on yourself, Caroline,” he said.

  Simon was the only person who called her by that name. She’d stopped using her given moniker when she’d left her old life behind. When she’d walked away from her ex-husband and the memory of finding her daughter’s lifeless body, she’d walked away from being Caroline. However, Carol had come to realize her former self wasn’t as far in the past as she’d pretended for so many years. Caroline’s memories had a way of sneaking up on Carol and kicking her feet from beneath her. Those memories were like monsters hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce and shred her to pieces when she least expected it. She’d made peace with John, their mistakes, and Katie’s passing. Even so, some memories would haunt her forever.

  One of the barriers she’d put between herself and the past in a weak attempt at protecting herself was insisting no one called her Caroline. However, when she’d unexpectedly reconnected with Simon, hearing him call her Carol was wrong. That name didn’t sound right coming from him. Simon was the one bright spot in Carol’s past that hadn’t been marred by John’s drinking or Katie’s death. When Simon called her out of the blue one day, she realized she could think of him and feel that same sense of peace wash over her.

  “Why do you sound so tired?” she asked, redirecting the conversation.

  He let out a miserable groan, and she pictured him dragging his hand over his face. Though they were both older now, she pictured him as the younger version of himself, the one she’d known, rather than gray-haired and sporting a short beard.

  “I spent most of my day in budgeting meetings,” he said. “You know that old saying, trying to squeeze blood out of a turnip? Well, I’m the turnip now.”

  She smiled at his assessment, but there was more. Their time together years ago gave her insight to his Simon’s inner workings, and he wasn’t being completely honest with her. “What else?”

  “That’s not enough?”

  “Yeah,” she said gently, “that’s enough, but there’s something else. What’s bothering you?”

  After a few drawn-out seconds, he said, “I don’t know why I took this position.” His confession was soft, in that unguarded voice he used to use when they were hiding from the world and could be genuine with each other. “I thought I was going to make a difference, I guess. I’m not. I’m running in the same circles as my predecessor, making the same mistakes, hearing the same bullshit he had to hear.”

  “First, I’m going to point out that you do make a difference,” she stated firmly.

  “Not like I did when I was working with the kids.”

  Carol understood that feeling more than he probably realized. She’d changed directions after losing her daughter. Rather than becoming a pediatrician like she’d planned since she was in middle school, she’d spent decades working her way up to an executive position at a pharmaceutical company. “You know, the first time I went to work after Katie died, I knew I couldn’t do the job I’d dreamed of doing. I couldn’t let myself lose someone again. I couldn’t watch another child die. Changing directions wasn’t what I’d planned, but the position I ended up in was crucial. I still helped people, Simon. My job was different, my focus was on something else, but I helped so many people by ensuring the medications they needed were safe. I still saved lives. You might not be hands-on with the kids anymore, but you’re protecting the hospital and the doctors the patients need. You’re providing them a safe place to heal. Your job matters. You’re still helping them.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds before saying, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  “I figured you did.”

  “All those years I spent griping about how the executives didn’t get what we were going through… I thought I’d step in and make changes. I didn’t realize choosing which department would receive what they needed and which would go without would be so difficult.”

  Carol smirked, knowing he’d hate her solution, but she had to say it anyway. “You can make cuts, skip bonuses, and forgo raises for a time. That’s what executives usually do.”

  He moaned miserably. “That’ll go over well. They’ll really love me then.”

  “Are you there to help the hospital or to be admired?”

  “Ouch.”

  “That psychoanalysis thing goes both ways,” Carol teased.

  Simon chuckled. “I’m there for the kids. And the staff.”

  Carol’s smile softened as she reminded him of a hard truth. “Sometimes, that means making tough calls that won’t be popular with the very people you’re trying to protect.”

  “I know,” he said. “I hate it, but I know. Let’s talk about something less depressing. Tell me about your day and all your adventures.”

  “My adventures aren’t as exciting as you’re probably imagining.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I read four grant summaries today and ate cold alphabet soup for lunch. Your adventures have to be more exotic than that. What did you eat for lunch?”

  She sipped her wine before answering, “Carrot sticks and leftover chicken salad.”

  “Never mind,” Simon deadpanned. “You are boring.”

  Carol laughed heartily. “Well, I had raisins in my oatmeal for breakfast. That was a break from the norm.”

  “Pace yourself, Caroline.”

  “I can’t. I’m a woman on the edge.”

  “I sense that about you.” His voice had changed. The strain had lef
t, replaced by the lighter sound that Carol had been so drawn to from the day she’d met him. On one hand, she was happy to hear the change, but deep down, part of her hated that she was so in tune with him.

  Simon had been a light in the darkness of her life years ago and was starting to become that again. She wasn’t sure she was ready to start feeling like he was a beacon in her storm.

  Though he didn’t call every day like her mother, he called often enough that Carol knew he was checking in on her. He didn’t come right out and voice his concerns like Judith was sure to do, but he didn’t like Carol being on the road alone either. Rather than nag her about safety and going “home,” he asked about her day and her plans for the coming days. That was his subtle way of knowing where she would be should something happen. Though keeping an eye on her wasn’t his responsibility, she liked that he took the time. She liked knowing he worried about her more than he should.

  Picking up Mei’s worry stone now that her mood had lifted, Carol thumbed the letters as she settled in to tell Simon about Harold and their hike and the amazing view from the overlook. She’d tell him in great detail about the trail, the weather, and the views that had taken her breath away.

  She’d leave out the part about crying over sunbeams, though. Simon didn’t need to know about that.

  Three

  The day after Harold left the campground, Carol moved on too. The next stop on her list was Arches National Park in Utah. There, she stood silently, staring up at the natural wonder that was Turret Arch. Though this was the smaller of the arches along the trail, the holes created in the sandstone by centuries of erosion were amazing.

  As awe-inspiring as the structure was, her mind was elsewhere. She’d had her first counseling session early that morning. As soon as Dr. Baxter had appeared in their video chat, Carol had immediately fallen into her robot persona. With a faked smile and perfectly timed nods, she’d shared only what was asked. That was how she got through uncomfortable situations.

  Dr. Baxter caught on to her game quickly and pointed out what Carol was doing. Though Carol understood she needed to be called out in order to break the habit, she fumbled when she was put on the spot like that. Years of trauma from her father’s gruff approach to raising her would surface, and she’d freeze. She could see how things would play out in a flash before her eyes and behave in a way that she anticipated would cause the least amount of conflict. It was the same response she’d had when she was faced with the reality of white-water rafting.

  Dr. Baxter had pushed gently. Coaxed kindly. And Carol had broken down.

  She’d been so embarrassed, but Dr. Baxter had reassured her that was what she needed. She needed to break down. She needed to lay her pain bare. She needed to expose her wounds so they could heal. Breaking down was perfectly normal during the healing process, according to Dr. Baxter. Carol didn’t feel normal. She’d never felt normal. Apparently that was normal too. Carol had assumed her ability to turn herself to stone was some kind of superpower, but she wasn’t that special after all. Dr. Baxter said that was a common defense.

  The funny thing was, Dr. Baxter hadn’t said anything Carol didn’t already know. She’d told herself these things a thousand times, but having someone who didn’t know her validate them made accepting them easier.

  The floodgates on her pain had opened months ago when John resurfaced in her life. He’d found her living in Houston, hiding from the past, and made her confront the loss of their daughter. He’d been terminally ill and was running out of time. Carol had to choose between continuing to overlook how much darkness she was keeping inside or helping John confront their past. She’d chosen the latter. By the time he’d died, they’d made peace with each other, but Carol was, once again, left holding an overflowing bag of trauma. She’d done her best to sort through the feelings on her own. Now, she’d connected with someone who could help her get through the rest. Dr. Baxter had pushed when she sensed Carol was holding back. That in and of itself made Dr. Baxter seem the right person for the job.

  Not many could see through Carol’s cool exterior. Then again, that cool exterior was showing cracks from the strain. Too much of the past was coming to the surface. Without Tobias there to help her pull herself together, she was fraying. Her family had seen the signs months ago. Now, Carol had to admit she was seeing them too.

  A lifetime of avoiding the water hadn’t helped her heal. She’d only managed to ignore what everyone else could see.

  She was broken. She had been for as long as she could recall.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a gravelly voice asked, distracting Carol from the looping instant replay of her therapy session.

  Carol nodded at a woman beaming from beneath a wide-brimmed army green hat. Long black hair fought against the braids the frizzy strands had been wrangled into. The woman was several inches shorter than Carol, but her personality was bursting, from wide eyes to wild gestures.

  “Yes,” Carol said. “It’s amazing.”

  “Are you here alone?” the woman quizzed, as if the question weren’t at all out of place. “I only ask because I am,” she continued when Carol hesitated, “and I wanted to hike to Delicate Arch. That’s a tough trail, and even though it’s usually busy, I’m in search of a hiking partner in case I do something stupid like fall off a cliff or break an ankle.” The woman smiled wide, exposing stained, yellow teeth. “I’m not selling this well, am I? Let me try again.”

  Carol glanced down when the hiker stuck her tanned hand out. From the appearance of her leathery skin, she’d spent quite a bit of her time basking in the sun. She was probably an expert at tackling trails, which made her request even more odd.

  “Gillian Bianchi,” the woman stated. “Lone adventurer in search of another lone adventurer—preferably a fellow female—for the next three hours or so. Safety in numbers, sister.”

  Carol couldn’t help but smile. The first time she’d met her friend Alyssa was at a park in Houston. Carol and Tobias had just moved to the city, and Carol had researched the safest parks to jog by herself. Tobias couldn’t always be with her. The first time she went to a trail close to their home, she was stretching when a petite brunette walked right up to her.

  Alyssa Gilmore had done much as Gillian had; she shoved her hand out and introduced herself. She’d told Carol she didn’t mind running alone but preferred having a partner because it was safer for women to travel in packs. Hearing Gillian say much the same thing warmed Carol’s heart as she thought of her friend.

  Holding her hand out, Carol returned the handshake. “Carol Denman.”

  “You got anything better to do today than make sure I don’t die in the wilds of Utah, Carol?”

  A smirk tugged at Carol’s lips. “I guess that depends. When you say it’s a tough trail, how tough are you talking?”

  Gillian dug in the pocket of her gray cargo pants and pulled out a map from the visitor center. Unfolding the pages, she excitedly pointed out the steep climbs and rock ledges that tripped up many beginner hikers. Though Carol’s heart ticked a bit with apprehension, there wasn’t a single rapid or inflatable raft between them and Delicate Arch. There was no reason Carol should turn away from this hike, other than the overpowering personality surging from Gillian, which wasn’t a good enough excuse.

  Carol, too, was a lone adventurer, but there wasn’t much to this journey she was taking if she stuck to the safe trails, which was what she’d been doing all along. All her life, really. Harold had reminded her there were other ways to honor Tobias. She’d known that, but the reminder had been necessary to snap her out of her self-pity after her inability to go rafting.

  She’d flaked out on the rafting trip. She wasn’t going give herself the opportunity to turn her back on this one. Tobias would have been in absolute awe of the structures that nature had created, and Delicate Arch was the most well-known of all the features in the park. As an environmental scientist, this would have been a haven for him. He would have stood beside her, pointing as h
e explained how the arches had been created and how they were ever-changing because of the wind. How the sandstone was gradually swept away, and how, someday, these natural wonders would be worn down until nothing remained.

  Tobias would jump at this opportunity to hike into the wilds of Utah, as Gillian had described them. So, Carol jumped too.

  “Let’s do it,” Carol said.

  Gillian pumped her fist into the air. “Yes!”

  Carol and Gillian made arrangements to meet at the parking lot closest to the trailhead. Within half an hour, Carol had parked, texted her mother where she was and who she was with, and hopped out of her RV to go hiking on her latest adventure.

  “You got water? Sunscreen? A phone?” Gillian asked as she hooked a compass onto her belt loop. As carefree and reckless as Carol thought Gillian seemed when asking a stranger to accompany her on a potentially dangerous hike, Gillian at least had the sense to be prepared.

  “All of the above,” Carol said. As a precaution, she added, “I’ve let some friends know where we’re headed. If they don’t hear from me in a few hours, they’ll send out a search party.”

  Gillian clapped. “Woot! Let’s get going.”

  The path started out smooth, easily conquered by the women as they made small talk. Gillian had never been married—never had a need to, according to her. She’d been a computer programmer for years before selling everything and hitting the road, much like Carol had. Unlike Carol, Gillian seemed to have found herself while roaming alone. As she boasted about how free she was with no one to answer to, Carol ruminated about how much she missed having someone to spend her time with. She missed having a partner in her travels. Maybe that was why she was so open to Simon checking on her, despite there not being a need for him to. Having someone show he cared, even with a simple phone call, was nice.

  If Tobias were here, they’d be hiking this same trail, but Carol had no doubt she’d be enjoying his company much more. That wasn’t a slight to Gillian, simply a fact. Tobias’s enthusiasm was an elixir for Carol. Hearing him ramble off facts as he pulled her to a stop to examine a plant or rock had made her ridiculously happy. Whenever he got out into nature, he was like a kid. So excited, so eager to share what he knew.