Unrestricted

by K. A. Berg

Being here gives rise to a storm of emotions inside me. Knowing Daniel has been here all alone makes me mad at myself for not visiting sooner. At least the yellow sunflowers Quinn’s holding for me will bring some color to the gray of this awful place. I don’t know how she managed to buy them without me noticing, but I’m grateful. I must have been more zoned-out during the ride than I’d realized.

  We stop when we reach Daniel’s plot, and I’m surprised to see it now has a headstone—a headstone I didn’t pick out. It was one of the things I’d told Quinn to handle. It’s beautiful, and I’m glad Quinn went with a standing one as opposed to the kind that lay flat on the ground. It’s a gorgeous dark marble with etchings of angels, a simple rectangle of stone that has Daniel’s name, birthday, and a beautiful quote engraved on it.

  This is not goodbye, just time to rest your head.

  The moon will be your pillow, the stars above your bed.

  Sweet dreams our little angel, until we hold you once again.

  I wipe away the tears flowing from my eyes and look at Quinn. “It’s perfect. You did a great job picking it out. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. Tanner handled this. He handled everything,” she says squeezing me tightly.

  I have no words. We stand there together for a while, Quinn wrapped around me in support. Looking the headstone over, something at the base catches my eye—a small teddy bear. I smile to myself, glad someone, anyone has been visiting Daniel while I haven’t been able to. I take the sunflowers from Quinn and reach forward to lay them on top of the headstone.

  A flood of images runs through my mind—images of Daniel and me together, of the life we should have had. I had so many plans for us. Would he have looked like me? Would he be like me? Would he love to write? Would he be shy or popular? I picture his smiling face on our first trip to the zoo, to the aquarium, to Disney World… I’d looked forward to seeing him grow and thrive and find his place in the world.

  I would never have been the type of mother my mother is. I’d have loved and supported him no matter what. I was ready for motherhood, even if I had to do it alone, because I’d have had him, and he’d have been all I needed. But he’s gone, and I don’t know what to do. I feel the tears streaming down my face. I was prepared to be a mother, and now I’m not. I’m trapped in a world of could haves and should haves. I can’t go back to who I was before Daniel because that woman is gone. I can’t move forward without him. I don’t know who I am anymore or what I’m supposed to do. I just want my baby, and he’s gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ashley

  Dr. Paterson stares at me. She sits in her pompous, high-back black leather chair, her legs crossed, and her hands folded over the pad where she writes down all her notes and judgments. Her staring makes me want to punch her.

  I hate these sessions. I’ve been sitting here week after week, listening to her prattle on and on while asking me about my feelings. How does that make you feel? Why do you think you feel that way? What can we do to change that? Hell if I know! Isn’t that what she makes two hundred dollars an hour for?

  Leaning forward, Dr. Paterson sets her precious pad on the glass table. Sitting back again, she levels me with a hard stare. “Tell me, Ashley, what do you hope to get out of therapy? We set goals when you first started, but based on your limited participation, I don’t think you actually want to be here. It’s been six weeks, and the only real progress you’ve made was visiting Daniel’s grave, and it was by force. Two things have to happen in order for therapy to be effective: one, you have to want to get better, and two, you have to be willing to do the work. I don’t think either of those things apply to you at this moment in time.”

  I shrug. “I never wanted to be here in the first place. I only agreed to it to get Quinn and Tanner off my back.”

  “I think we should revisit the topic of medication. Have you reconsidered seeing any of the psychiatrists I recommended? Medication used in conjunction with therapy can be very effective…”

  “I don’t need more drugs. I’m not crazy, and I’m just not going to sit here and pour my heart out to you,” I say through gritted teeth.

  She crosses her legs. “Then it seems we’re at an impasse. I think it’s best we cancel further visits until you’re ready to be an active participant in your life.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, glaring back at her.

  She puts the cap back on her pen and places it on top of her pad. “You’re angry. Rightfully so. What you’ve been through is horrible. While it’s reasonable to go through a period of grief and depression, in order to keep functioning, you have to want to break free of the pain, you have to want to be happy again. It’s clear you are not there. You’ve stopped living. You’re only existing right now, festering in your rage. Lots of people follow this path after trauma. It’s not uncommon. But I’ll warn you the longer you let the anger dominate your life, the harder it’ll be to come out of the darkness. Perhaps when you’re ready, you’ll come back, and we’ll try again.”

  “So what? You’re quitting on me because I’m not ready to be Mary freaking Sunshine?”

  She smiles. “Of course not. I’m here for you whenever you’re ready, but you’ve made it clear you’re simply not ready. You want to hold on to the anger, and that’s not how therapy works. Therapy isn’t a punishment. It’s a way out of the pain.”

  “You’re just like everyone else. No one fucking cares!” I’m tired of everyone pushing me off onto other people as though I’m someone else’s problem. Quinn pushed me off onto Tanner, and Tanner pushed me off onto this bitch.

  “I do care. I care very deeply. Seeing you sit there week after week carrying this heavy burden of guilt and anger, I worry one day it’s going to become too much and you’re going to implode. But until you’re willing to see the damage you’re doing to yourself, no one can help you. And honestly, I think that’s what you want. You want to be isolated—just you and your pain.”

  “You want me to be like everyone else? Just move on with my life as though the accident never happened? As though Daniel never happened?” I will not act as though things are fine. They aren’t. Not with Daniel gone.

  “Is that really how you see things? Have Quinn and Tanner moved on? Look at their lives. What do their days consist of? From what you’ve told me, it sounds like the two of them have committed themselves to you,” she says as though it’s a gift I should be thankful for.

  “I never asked them to,” I snap. “In fact, I’ve told them over and over to leave me the hell alone.”

  She flashes another condescending smile. I hate that smile. It makes me want to smash her teeth in. “And that’s why you’re not ready. You have people in your life who care about you, who are putting their lives on hold to focus solely on you, and you want your solitude.”

  “I lost my son,” I scream. “I deserve to grieve!”

  “Of course, you do, but grief is a stage, not a permanent residence. Until you decide you want to start living again, there’s nothing I or anyone can do but watch you slowly self-destruct. This is your choice, Ashley.”

  “This is not my choice! Nothing has been my choice! Tanner abandoning me, the accident, losing Daniel… None of it was my choice. Don’t you dare put this on me! It’s all Tanner’s fault, and I have to see him day in and day out… it feels like a God damn knife is being stabbed into my heart over and over. I despise him with every ounce of my being, and yet he’s everywhere, reminding me of all the pain he’s caused me. You want to know why I can’t move on? Because he’s still in my life.”

  “And why is that?”

  “He won’t leave me alone. It’s like he has some sick need to pour salt in my wounds. He and Quinn have taken over everything and …”

  She shrugs. “If that’s how you feel, then why have you chosen to stay?”

  “What are you talking about? I couldn’t do a damn thing for myself for months. I haven’t had a chance to leave! They make all the decisions.
”

  She shakes her head. “They presented you with options, and you refused to make choices. They chose for you. They haven’t done this to you. You’ve allowed it to happen.”

  “Bullshit! I didn’t allow this to happen. Tanner did this to me!” I shriek. It feels as though I’m talking to a brick fucking wall.

  “Was Tanner driving the car that hit you?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

  “No, but it’s his fault I was working so late. If he hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have needed that job!” This is exhausting. It’s pretty simple. Why can’t she understand?

  “Tanner never offered to support you? Never offered to help?” she questions with an unsettling smirk. Every single one of her facial expressions evokes more rage inside of me than the last.

  “Only after it was too damn late!” I yell, gripping the arm of the sofa hard enough my knuckles turn white.

  “So, you chose not to take his help. You chose to take that job.”

  Why does she keep trying to place all the blame back on me?

  “Fuck you!” I shout. I’m done with this shit… Done! “This. Is. Not. My. Fault! It’s his. Daniel would be alive if Tanner hadn’t…” I’m seething, so angry I can barely see straight. My nails are digging into the upholstery so hard I’m sure they’ll leave marks in the fabric. Oh well! It’s either that, or I deck her.

  She grabs a pitcher from the table beside her and pours me a glass of water before placing it on the table in front of me. “Ashely, this isn’t about fault. You’re desperate to assign blame, but as you do that, it allows you to cling to your rage like a life raft. You got into an accident. The only person responsible for the accident is the man who drove drunk and hit you—not Tanner and not you. Continuing to blame Tanner will not bring Daniel back. It will not erase your pain. It will only trap you in this dark place you’re in now.”

  I gulp down the water, trying to pull myself together.

  “It’s up to you to decide when you’re ready to leave the darkness,” she says calmly—almost too calmly. For some reason, the tone of her voice breaks my resolve.

  “If I move forward, I’ll lose him,” I whisper so quietly I’m not sure she hears me.

  “Lose who?” she asks.

  “Daniel,” I reply. “The hurt is all I have left of him. I didn’t even get to hold him. If I let go of the pain, I’ll lose everything I have of him.” I feel a few tears trickle down my cheek but make no move to wipe them away.

  “Daniel will always live in your heart. But you’ve shut down your heart and filled it with rage. You’re not allowing yourself the chance to feel the good things he’s brought to your life.”

  “I feel like all the good was inside him. Without him, there is no good. If I let Tanner get away with what he’s done, does it make me an awful mother?” I ask, wiping my tears away at last.

  “It makes you a great mother. A good mother knows how to forgive, to accept those we love in spite of their flaws and mistakes.” She smiles a sweet smile this time, the first one that doesn’t make me want to throttle her.

  I snort. “I’ve never been good at forgiveness. I wouldn’t know how to start.”

  “Perhaps it’s time you tried. If you find a way to stop drowning in all the pain you carry around, maybe you’ll be ready to move forward. Not moving on. Not forgetting Daniel. But moving forward. We can start with something simple.”

  “Like what?”

  “How about something small that’ll make you feel a bit better, something you enjoyed doing for yourself before the accident? You don’t have to decide right now but think about it. Think about things you used to do that made you smile or made you feel good about yourself. Sometimes it’s the littlest thing, but it can really help,” she explains.

  “Okay, seems easy enough.”

  She claps her hands together and says. “While we’re thinking about things that are small, I want you to picture a spring cleaning for your emotions. Think of the anger that’s been cluttering up your heart and find something small you can let go of, something you won’t miss.”

  I think back over the last year of my life, searching for something that fits those criteria. “Jason, I guess. Maybe my parents, if I’m being honest. I used to feel so much animosity toward both of them, but now, after everything that’s happened, they seem insignificant.”

  She picks up her notebook and pen from the table and says, “That’s a good start. Maybe after you’ve had a little practice, you’ll find a way to forgive yourself… and maybe Tanner as well.” Her hand moves furiously over the paper.

  “I’m not forgiving Tanner. And what do I have to forgive myself for?” I ask, feeling defensive again. I haven’t done anything wrong.

  She raises an eyebrow. “That is the question of the hour, isn’t it?” She looks at her watch. “Times up. Why don’t you let me know if and when you’re ready to resume your appointments again? I’m always here for you.”

  What I hate most about spring is how the sun comes up earlier and shines through the damn window, waking me up much earlier than I want to be. I could swear Quinn comes in here before she leaves for work and opens the curtain on purpose so I can’t sleep the day away.

  I sit up in bed and look around my room. While it’s bathed in sunlight, nothing about it is bright or cheery. Dirty dishes litter the nightstand. Empty water bottles and soda cans spill out of the garbage can. The mountain of dirty sweat pants and t-shirts in the corner is almost as tall as I am, and I’m pretty sure there’s a funky smell coming from my bed sheets.

  I don’t remember the last time the room was cleaned. Quinn cleaned it regularly in the beginning, but she hasn’t been in here as much since my cast was removed and I was downgraded from the immobilizer to a smaller stabilizing brace. That was last week. I’ve let my room become a complete shithole in seven short days. I guess it’s time to pull my head out of my ass if this is the first time it’s crossed my mind to clean up after myself.

  It takes close to two hours to get my room into a state of cleanliness, but I get it done. Changing the sheets is the hardest part. Even though I can move my arm now, it’s still weak and kind of useless, so tucking the sheets under the mattress isn’t a walk in the park, but they get changed, the nightstand is cleared, and the garbage is taken out to the kitchen. The mountain of laundry has even been reduced to one small load. Surprisingly, I feel lighter somehow—gross and sweaty as well, but definitely lighter.

  When I head to the bathroom, I look in the mirror, taking stock of the person staring back at me. I don’t recognize her anymore. Her face seems hollow. Large purple bags have formed under her eyes, eyes that used to shine brilliantly. Now they just look jaded. They match the frumpy bun sitting on top of her head. Everything about her screams angry hermit.

  I leave my bathroom for Quinn’s to grab her expensive shampoo and conditioner and her girly coconut lime body wash. Maybe using some high-end bath shit will help me feel a little bit better. I’d love a long soak in a bubble bath, and I’m sure it would help me pull myself out of this funk, but I still can’t pull myself out of the tub alone, so a shower will have to do for now.

  I turn on the shower and slip out of the nasty funk-infused sweats I’m wearing before stepping into the shower and letting the warm water run over me. I try to clear my mind and let all the dumb emotional shit wash away, just as Dr. Paterson suggested. None of the little stupid grudges, assumptions, and miscommunications matter anymore. I can forgive Jason. I can even let go of the resentment I hold toward my mother. I may never live up to her expectations, but I don’t have to. I just have to live up to mine.

  I smile to myself as I lather Quinn’s shampoo into my hair, realizing it’s okay to be done with everyone else and just live for me. I have a great best friend who has stood by me through the worst of the worst. She’s the only person whose opinion I should ever let matter to me.

  When I emerge from the shower, I feel like a new person. I even consider blow drying my hair
before I remind myself to take baby steps. I catch the time out of the corner of my eye on the wall clock and realize I only have twenty minutes until Tanner gets here to take me to physical therapy. I seriously cannot wait until I can drive a car again. I’d be happier taking the bus than riding with him, but with Quinn and Tanner plotting against me together, I don’t stand a chance of getting out the door alone. But hey, at least I look halfway human now.

  Typically, I’d rather do anything other than go see Dr. Paterson, but as I head into today's appointment, I realize this is the first time I'm not dreading it, which surprises me considering how she laid into me during our last session. There must be a bit of truth to the things Dr. Paterson has been trying to drill into me, and I'm finally seeing some sense in them. I've been hanging on to so much anger, and it's exhausting being angry all the time. I wouldn't say things are suddenly all rainbows and sunshine, but it feels as though some of the darkness and gloom hanging over me has lifted.

  I'll never be over Daniel’s death, but I've realized I've been stuck on pause, refusing to push past the moment I found out he’d died. I've been keeping myself trapped, clinging to the hurt and despair. It's all I have left of him, and I haven’t been ready to let go. Yet despite my protests, the earth has kept spinning and the world has kept moving forward, and it’s demanding me to move with it—or at least shower on a regular basis. It's excruciating to think of living my life without Daniel in it, but what Dr. Paterson has me considering is maybe I don't have to let him go completely. Maybe I just have to find a way to carry him with me.

  “I’m very happy to see you here today, Ashley,” Dr. Paterson says as I enter her office.

  I’m so busy taking in her office properly for the first time I don’t say anything back. I don’t know how she spends all day here. It’s like a sterile glass box. One wall is floor-to-ceiling windows. The other three walls are stark white, and all the furniture is black, the tables glass. It’s hard to believe I’ve never noticed before, but I’ve always been focused on the clock, waiting to make my escape.