by K. I. Lynn
“From what little I’ve heard, you all sing nothing but praise about Grace. I’ll never be able to live up to that. I’ll never be her. I’m me and I’m fucked up, and any delusions I once had that we could be something died the second I learned he was still in love with her.”
I wiped away the tears that sprang to my eyes, not strong enough to pretend anymore. Sarah stood from her chair and walked over to my side of the bed, her arm wrapping around me.
“Oh, Lila,” Sarah replied with a sigh. “You are very worthy of him.”
Sarah looked up to Erin for support. Erin took a deep breath and began, “Nate has accepted her death, that she’s gone, but he’s never gotten over the guilt. Until he deals with that, he can’t let her go from his heart. He blames himself for everything, and he can’t stand the thought of the same thing happening to anyone else. He cut us all off. I hadn’t seen him in months. Bad enough we lost Grace and the baby, but we also lost Nate.”
Sarah sniffed, the conversation digging up painful memories. “Grace was a lovely woman, but you bring life and meaning to him. She struggled with the ability to let go and move on after each miscarriage, and Nathan never had a reason to move on after she died. Yes, he loved her, very much, but with you I see a spark I’ve never seen in him. Love has many shapes and depths, some richer than others. His for you is breathtaking.”
Sarah’s words gave me hope that maybe he could heal and let go; that we both could overcome our ghosts. There might not be white horses riding off into the sunset, but there could be happiness, and an all-consuming love.
The fact that his mother approved of me was monumental. Not since my own mother died had that been in my life. My heart warmed at the simple sight of her.
CHAPTER 8
Dr. Morgenson wasn’t soft in handling us, despite all that had happened. He made good on his threats from the outburst at the hospital, and now we were both in a more intensive therapy program than before.
We planned to meet twice a week; once would be an individual session, and the other would be a joint session. The individual sessions were to make sure we both got back on track after months away. He said the joint session was to help us understand each other better and to make sure we opened up and communicated.
The day of our first joint session came, and my stomach was fluttering with butterflies circling within, my nerves skyrocketing.
Nathan came into the bedroom in the early afternoon and picked me up to take me into the living room where Darren was waiting to start our session. It was decided that having our therapy in my home would be less of a strain on my mangled, healing body than trying to transport me back and forth to Darren’s office. My stomach was in knots and a wave of nausea almost overcame me as we made our way.
We were going to talk and get everything out in the open. I was conflicted. A part of me wanted to be there for him, to know how best to help him, and I couldn’t do that unless I knew what happened to him. But deep down inside, I was afraid. What if I really couldn’t handle hearing about his pain and seeing him relive it just for me? I wasn’t worth it. I knew that, but I was too selfish to let go. I needed him, so that included sharing the burden of his pain.
Even scarier than learning about his trauma was him hearing about mine. No one wanted me, I knew that, and Nathan’s illusions of me, or what he thought was me, would evaporate into thin air. I’d be lost without him there to hold my hand.
It was the sole reason I was holding back, and it was a habit I had to stop. Darren told me if I continued on that path I’d lose my one shot at being happy, so I bit my lip and held my breath as we entered my living room.
Not a word was spoken as he sat me down on the chaise lounge on one end of the couch, taking care that my leg was supported, and yet my insides were clenching violently.
Nathan sat down next to me and gripped my hand in his, making it apparent he was feeling the exact same way.
“How are you both today?” Darren asked.
I blinked. Was it a trick question? Could he not see the expressions we both wore? I couldn’t even look Nathan in the eye, but from my periphery it was obvious he wasn’t handling this well already.
“Grand.” Nathan’s voice was curt, his eyes glaring, hackles up.
“I’m… fuck, I don’t know.” I shook my head.
“I know this a little scary but –”
“Big fucking understatement, Doc,” Nathan blurted out.
Darren chuckled. He understood. He knew us both. There was no guessing.
“Okay, so you’re not happy to be here with me, I get that. Relax. We’re all here to help each other, and you should consider me a friend, not a doctor to dissect you and break apart everything you say until you’re internally bleeding.” I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding at his statement. Darren gave a kind smile in return. “I want you both to realize I will never allow you to leave our sessions if you’re feeling upset. All you have to do is say you’re not okay, and we won’t stop until you’re feeling better.”
Nathan gave a tug at my hand and tucked my arm under his, pulling me closer in a protective manner. “I’ve done this before, couples counseling, and it’s…not pleasant.”
My brows shot up. He did this with Grace? I always had the impression they had a blissful marriage, so why couples therapy?
He turned to me a little and whispered, “When she kept miscarrying, we went through a rough patch, and I wasn’t always as sensitive as I should have been.”
I nodded and leaned into him to show my support.
“Nobody’s here to blame anyone, Nathan. In fact, I don’t even want you to think that word. Blame is a way of shifting unpleasant feelings. Feelings aren’t right or wrong, they just are, and we can accept all feelings no matter what they are. Remember that. Feelings aren’t wrong. If you can take that in, it will free you up. You’ll be surprised at how liberating that one little motto can be.”
Darren shifted his gaze to me next. “Do you remember what your biggest emotional reaction was when you were in the hospital a few weeks ago, before the accident?”
“Yes, I –”
He cut me off quickly. “I don’t need you to tell me or relive it for now. We’ll get to that in time, but I want you to think about what happened afterward.”
I nodded, even though I couldn’t for the life of me remember what did happen, except that Darren was there for me after I freaked out about someone calling my dad.
“You can’t remember very well, can you?”
“No.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
It was disconcerting to feel like someone else knew me better than I knew myself. He seemed to have an unfair advantage. Nathan looked puzzled.
“The reason you can’t remember is because when you go into parataxic distortion, things become that – distorted. You can’t think clearly, your emotions become the sole focus, and your head gets fuzzy. Memory is skewed and off. So, even if you do remember, you won’t see it for what it was. You might see the person who offended you as monstrous, or hideous, or being out to get you, when that may not be accurate at all.” He grabbed a file from his bag.
I swallowed hard. What had I said to him? I was nervous to think I might have been out of my ever-loving mind.
Darren smiled at me in a reassuring gesture. “I see here you fired one of the nurses and told her to get the hell out of your sight for even saying your father’s first name.”
I what?
My fingers felt ice cold, and so did my toes. It was like all my circulation was congregated in my chest. I had no recollection of that interaction at all.
He was waiting for a response, and I was hesitant. “I…don’t remember that.”
“It’s okay. Sometimes our mind also blocks stuff out when we’re in this mode. It’s an act of self-preservation; to protect yourself.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” Nathan asked, sounding frustrated.
“I’m pointing this out to both
of you because your memories might be much worse than what actually happened.”
“Fuck that and fuck y– ” Nathan began, but was cut off by Darren’s hand going up in a defensive gesture.
“I’m not trying to downplay what happened to either of you, just trying to help you gain a different perspective. At first, some people find it’s easier to detach a little emotionally, to get some of their emotions out of the way. Once you’ve sorted through your shit, sorry for the slip, but after that, after you can lay it all out on the table, you then go back and figure out how you feel about all of it. Then you deal with it, but only after seeing the truth of what it was.”
I remembered his parataxic distortion speech before. He was rehashing it but in a less detailed, lecturing manner.
“Nathan, when you hurt Lila on the day of the anniversary of your wife’s death, you didn’t mean to do that to her, did you?”
“Absolutely not. I was sick with myself when I realized what I’d done.”
I ran soothing circles on Nathan’s hand. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind anymore that he hadn’t meant to hurt me. I was never angry with what he did to me physically; it was the rejection that stung.
“And you didn’t remember much of it because you were in a heightened level of distortion. Lila didn’t realize you were in such a state, otherwise she might have treaded a bit lighter and not offered herself to you in that way.” Darren cleared his throat. I could tell things were already going to head in an ugly direction. Bracing myself for the accusations, I shut my eyes and held them closed. “Lila, you need to hear this. Open your eyes, please.”
I refused. The session was already hurting too much. I didn’t think I could take hearing I was the reason Nathan was worse instead of better.
“I’m fine,” Nathan whispered in my ear, like he was reading my mind.
I shook my head. “You’re not fine. I made you do that. If I’d left you alone like you asked me to, we wouldn’t even be here.”
“Yes, we would. We need this, and that day wasn’t the only problem. It was us being tipped over the edge we’d been clinging to by our fingertips. We are both far from okay, and if it led us here, then I’m sorry, but I’m almost glad it happened. For the first time in four years, I want to get better, I have a reason to get better. I want you to get better, too. I want to be with you.”
I opened my eyes and felt a shift in the room. They were both looking at me, but it was different somehow. They didn’t pity me, or coddle me. It was a look of adoration and appreciation, almost like they were confident I would get through this with flying colors. They made me feel brave, strong.
“Okay,” I murmured. “I want to learn. What can I do to make things better?”
Darren’s face split into a brilliant grin. “There’s a lot you both can do to make this better. You both love each other, so that’s the basis for all this. All we need is a few tools to keep things healthy and manageable so they don’t fall apart on one or both of you when things get rough. And trust me, you both will have down days and it will be rough. To expect everything to be perfect would be setting you both up for failure.”
Darren’s soothing voice set me at ease and my jumpiness ratcheted down a notch or two.
“When you’re grieving the loss of Grace or your child, your instinct is to bottle up and blame yourself. That has to stop. I know you don’t want to talk about it to Lila, because you don’t want her to be miserable and share your pain, but what about when she’s feeling down about herself? Don’t you want her to let you in?” Nathan nodded in agreement. “Then you have to do the same. It’s about trust and friendship. I also know you lash out and then get physical.”
Nathan inhaled in a rush, and a vein on his temple throbbed as he ground his teeth together loud enough I could hear it. He seemed to be holding his breath, as well.
“It’s okay, Nathan. Sex is a part of your makeup as a man, and it’s your way of feeling close to Lila, but it isn’t fair of you to not tell her you’re upset before you take her that way. It’s obvious she wants to help you, and she has no problem giving herself to you to make you feel better, but it will help both of you much more if she understands it’s an outlet for you, a form of therapy. A way to feel connected. It can be a tremendous help in healing you both, but it has to be done with respect, and that means telling the other partner you feel hurt or scared, and need them to reciprocate by being affectionate or sexual. You might even find it’s some of the best sex you’ve ever had, even more so than makeup sex after a fight.” Darren smiled with a warmth that reflected his respect and friendship with Nathan.
Nathan grinned, and I blushed. There was no arguing with that statement. It was some of the best sex when one of us was reaching out with our body to feel okay inside.
“After you’re done connecting that way though, in order for it to help and be healing, you have to then talk about what you felt hurt about. I think you’ll be amazed to find that after sex your head is clearer and you can make better sense of your feelings. You feel relaxed and trusting of your partner as you’re lying there in each other’s arms.”
Nathan opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and closed it. “I…that’s when I feel the most open to speaking, but I know Lila’s not always comfortable sharing what happened to her. I don’t want to force her.”
“You won’t have to. If you open up first and make the first move to be vulnerable, you’ll find Lila will do it on instinct. It’s how this works. You give first, Nathan, because you left her, and you’ll find she’ll begin to trust you again.” Darren looked at me to make sure I was okay. I hadn’t realized a few tears had slipped down my cheeks.
I was desperate to believe Darren, but I was skeptical. Was it that easy?
Darren focused on me, his brow crinkled and there was a look of concern in his eyes. “What’s going on? Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”
“No one ever held me when I was sad or hurt. When Nathan does that after we’ve been in bed together, sometimes I feel worse, not better.” I felt like shit for saying that, but I had to be honest if we were going to get anywhere.
Nathan’s face fell. “I think I knew that.” His grip loosened on my hand and began to pull away. I gripped it hard, to let him know this wasn’t a rejection, and it was me begging for help.
“I don’t know what to do about that. I want to change, I do, but this is who I am, who I’ve been for so long. I don’t know any other way to be,” I cried.
Darren stood up and gave me a patient look. “That’s true; this is who you’ve become because you were forced into it. It was survival. But now, we’ve moved past survival. If Nathan promises you he won’t leave you again, do you think you’d be more apt to not be afraid and to open up a little bit?”
“I suppose…” I didn’t want to promise anything I couldn’t deliver.
A few days after our session was my first follow-up appointment. The doctors said my progress was going well, and I was able to have my stitches removed. It would still be another week before I would be allowed to use the crutches and even then only part of the time to start. They wanted to make sure my bruised ribs were healed before I exerted myself too much.
While it had been Sarah who took me to the hospital for my appointment, it was Nathan who took me home. With prescriptions already digitally en route, we drove to the drugstore that wasn’t far from our building.
“I’ll be right back,” he said as he pulled on the handle to open the door
“Wait, I can’t go with you?”
I needed out and, damn it, and he was going to take me out. I’d been cooped up for weeks and suffering from a serious case of cabin fever.
“I’m just going in to pick up your meds; I’ll be back in a minute.”
With that he left me sitting alone in the car, staring at the brick wall in front of me. Fifteen minutes later, which had seemed like forever, Nathan returned. He was so tense he moved with almost a stiff limp. Instead of walking
to the driver’s side door, he opened mine.
I quirked my brow at him as he cursed under his breath. “They won’t let me fucking sign for your meds.”
It wasn’t until he leaned into the car and his arms moved under my body did I understand. A smile broke out on my face.
Freedom!
Agitation seeped from him as he pulled me out, but he seemed to calm somewhat when my arms wrapped around his neck.
My eyes were happy to have more stimuli, and I was looking everywhere like a kid in a candy shop. I wanted him to let me down so I could explore, but I knew there was no way he would.
We walked up to the pharmacy counter, maneuvering past the small line of people. “Here she is.”
I turned to look at the pharmacist who pushed the paper for me to sign. A quick signature and then Nathan shifted, juggling me a bit. He pulled out his wallet and I tried to protest, but was met with a glare, silencing me. After payment was made, he handed me the bag and turned to walk toward the door.
Hell no.
It was my first adventure out of the hospital or the house in nearly two weeks, and I was going to make damn sure I made it last.
I looked at him and said, “Hey, while we’re here, there are a few things I need to pick up.”
He turned to me. “Just give me a list; I’ll pick them up for you later.”
“But, we’re already here,” I argued.
He sighed. “I need to get you back to bed.”
My jaw clenched. He was being difficult, and I was going to get my taste of freedom. I stared at him, our eyes locked in some silent battle.
“Put me down.”
“Lila…”
“Put me the fuck down!”
He glared at me and took a deep breath. “You can’t even stand.”
“Fine, there’s a motorized cart at the door; I saw it when we walked in.”
Another silent argument with our eyes ensued before he relented with a huff. We were headed toward the door again, but just before, he detoured to the cart that was stationed there, plugged into the wall.
