transference: a novel

by Ava Harrison

  I would be lying if I didn’t admit to myself why I was walking past Thirty-Fifth Street. Sometimes I find myself walking past his street when I want to feel close to him, when I want to remember the lessons I learned when seeing him. Today, I need his strength. Today marks three months since I’ve seen him and I need to find the strength to get out of my funk and make a change. Every day since I got the referrals from Preston, I have stared at the names, but I haven’t found the strength to call them. I know I have to, but I put it off. Sydney thinks I’m holding off for some crazy notion that Preston will charge in and demand I change my mind. I know he won’t. He can’t. Deep down, he knows this is right.

  Today I walk down Park, and as usual I peer down the street. That’s when I see him. He’s across the street. Preston. The man I can’t get out of my head, and worse, the one I can’t get out of my heart. I squint my eyes to get a better look. He’s perched on the stoop. His head is bowed and fine lines paint his forehead.

  When he finally lifts his head, the look in his eyes haunts me. They speak of a deep-rooted pain that I could never imagine. I put that pain there, and I would do anything in my power to take it away, but it wouldn’t be fair to go to him now. Not when I’m still so screwed up and when we still can’t be together. No. Today isn’t the right time. But hopefully it soon will be, and I know what I have to do.

  Lifting my hand, my fingers find the necklace he gave me and I stroke it gently. It’s time I stop hiding. It’s time I face my nightmares and learn to forgive. Today is the day I make the change.

  I turn on my heel before he catches me looking and walk in the other direction, leaving a part of me on that corner with him, but vowing to find all the other pieces and put myself back together.

  I scan the intersection from right to left. There are a few choices I can make. Home to pretend my life isn’t happening and continue to hide in my bed, or send Sydney a text and finally start living again. Seeing Preston makes my heart hurt, but I also know he wouldn’t want me to be sad. So I pick up my phone and send a message to Sydney.

  Me: Bar?

  Sydney: Hell yes.

  Me: Ten minutes?

  Sydney: DONE!

  The Corner Bar is packed as usual. From across the room, I see Sydney waving at me. My mouth spreads into a large smile. For the first time in a long time, I feel as if I might be okay.

  “What up, chica!” Sydney throws her arms around my neck and starts bouncing up and down “I’ve missed you.”

  “Syd, you do know we live together right? You see me every day. How can you miss me?”

  “Eve.” Her eyes narrow. “You have been in a funk for weeks. I wouldn’t call that living anywhere.”

  “You’re right. But I’m back now.”

  “Well, you know what that means?”

  “Tequila shots?” I flash her a megawatt smile and she starts to laugh.

  “A girl after my own heart.” Sydney turns to Austin. “Two shots of Patron, extra chilled,” she exclaims.

  He comes back and places the two chilled shots in front of us.

  “Celebrating something?” he winks.

  “No,” I say as Sydney says yes. I turn my attention back and quirk an eyebrow.

  “We are?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what, pray tell, are we celebrating?”

  “You, of course,” she replies.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s good to have you back.” She smiles and I grab the shot and take a swig.

  “It’s good to be back.” I nod. It is. And tomorrow, first thing, I’ll call the names on the list.

  “What are you smiling about?” Sydney asks.

  “Nothing. Just happy, I guess.” And for the first time in a long time, I do feel happy. I feel hope. Because I know what I need to do and I’m going to do it. I’m going to stop running from my past. I’ll confront my fears and figure out me, and that is worth celebrating.

  Once again I stand at the precipice of change, but this time instead of walking into Preston’s office, I find myself in a small room, waiting to see my new therapist. Her name is Dr. Beckett, and from the look of things, she will be nothing like Dr. Montgomery. Where he was upscale, this space is homey. Comfy couches line the walls of what seems to be an old parlor of a brownstone in the west village. It’s quaint and feels like home.

  With everything I’ve been through, I welcome it. Dr. Beckett wasn’t on the list Preston gave me. I needed a clean break. So I asked around the office, only this time I didn’t hide that I’m having a hard time coping with Richard’s death and some other things in my life. Surprisingly, everyone was supportive. And now that they knew my mom had no interest in taking control, they reach out more and more. It isn’t only Sydney and myself for lunch anymore. Now Natalie comes along, and Barry too. After apologizing for harassing me, he really isn’t that bad.

  Today begins the next step in my journey. I’m not sure how this new story will end, but I hope eventually it leads me back to Preston. All I can do is take a deep breath and vow to conquer my fears and learn to forgive.

  The door creaks open and out walks a taller middle-aged woman.

  “Hello, Eve. I’m Dr. Beckett.”

  “Hi,” I say as I stand and extend my hand.

  “Are you ready?” She smiles and I nod.

  I am. I finally am.

  As my sessions with Dr. Beckett come and go, the weather turns from sweltering to brisk days. Orange and red bleed from the leaves and the air is crisp with fall fragrances. The weeks have turned into months. We talk about everything. Well, everything except Preston Montgomery. He’s one topic I won’t breach. I keep our time together tucked firmly in my own heart and memory.

  Right now the focus is on me. I’m working on forgiving Mom and Richard for lying to me. Richard’s omission of the truth has been easier for me to move past. He was in an unimaginable situation and made the only choice he though he could. It’s taken me a long time to forgive Mom, and an even longer time to forgive my dad.

  Day by day and week by week, I get closer to forgiveness. Like Preston said, I’d never understand the pressure he was under. But little by little I move past the anger and open my heart to love.

  Today is a day to move forward.

  “Mom, are you decent? Are you dressed?” I say as I knock on the door.

  “Yes.”

  “I have someone here to talk to us. Can we come in?”

  “Um,” she mumbles through the door. I crack it open a little. “I’m a little dizzy.”

  “I know, Mom, but it will be fast. She just wants to talk to you. We want to talk to you together. Dr. Beckett thinks it will be good for us. I think so too. We can no longer let our future be dictated by our fear of the past. We need to move forward.”

  “Okay,” she croaks out.

  Dr. Beckett and I walk through the door and into the room. Mom is sitting on the bed. I had called previously and warned her that she should be dressed today. I’m happy to see she is in lounge pants and T-shirt. She’s even wearing a light dusting of makeup. She’s trying, and that thought makes tears fill my eyes.

  We sit in the chairs situated along the window inside her room. She stays where she is. Dr. Beckett begins, and then we let my mom talk. For the first time in as long as I can remember, she tells me what it was like to be married to Dad. I sit with welled eyes as she relates stories she never shared before. Tears pour down my face at the idea that they were once in love. That my mom was once more then she is. It’s almost too much to take in, but as I do, something strange happens. I find myself laughing, smiling and forgiving.

  When Dr. Becket asks me if I have anything to say, I do.

  “Mom, it’s time you forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault. Every year that passes, a bigger part of you dies. Your guilt has eaten away at you. It has to stop. Every day that we have is a gift. You need to keep living for Dad. You need to live for yourself. And for me. I need you to be my mother. I need to know
you’re there.” She nods and we sit in silence. Eventually, I take her hand in mine and ask her softly if she can tell me how she met my father and she does.

  The stories encompass topics of all types, from hobbies they had to all the places they travelled. After the moisture on my face evaporates, it makes me happy to think of a better time. Hearing her stories reminds me a little of Preston. He’s the reason this is happening right now. He was the catalyst for me doing this. In order to go to him in the future, I need to heal my past. This is the first step—my mom and I forgiving ourselves. This won’t be an overnight success. It’ll take time before she can talk again about what happened that night. But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to wait.

  Ten Months Later . . .

  Stepping inside Paradise Diner, I prepare for the impending assault of memories. They wash over me like a tidal wave but I embrace them. Losing Richard. Meeting Preston . . . walking away, and then gaining my strength, it all lead me here to this moment. Having spent the past ten months focusing on myself, I’m finally ready to face my fears…to face him. Every week that I’ve seen Dr. Beckett, I’ve grown stronger, and today I’m ready to confront the man I had to walk away from. I’ve come here with a purpose. It’s not by accident I’m here at the very place I know he frequents. We have unfinished business that I intend to resolve. Perhaps it isn’t fair that I’m ambushing him, but I need him to look at me and see that I’m better.

  As I wait, I peer toward the window and watch as people pass by. A young couple walks hand in hand, and my heart swells at the sight. Months ago seeing this might have hurt me, but not now. I’m ready for what they have.

  To live. To breath. To love.

  My lips part into a smile as I watch them fade into the horizon, a sigh escaping my mouth. The chime above the door rings and pulls me out of my thoughts. I don’t have to look to know who’s walked in. The air has shifted around me.

  I’ve imagined this moment so many times. Replayed how I would respond to seeing him again, but as often as I fantasized about this moment, I’m finding myself ill prepared for the emotions coursing through me.

  My eyes find him. God, he looks gorgeous. As if no time has passed. His shoulders are pulled back and he’s wearing a blue hoodie and jeans. I love him like this. I’m reminded of our trip together. The weekend I began to fall in love with him. A stolen moment where we were able to live in our bubble and just enjoy each other with no consequences.

  I want to run to him.

  I want to jump into his arms.

  Kiss him madly.

  Never let him go.

  I hold back the tears of joy that threaten to fall from my eyes.

  He walks towards me, but hasn’t yet seen me. The closer he gets, the more I have to secure myself to the seat as to not make a fool of myself.

  Patience. You’ve waited this long.

  He twists his body speaking to someone behind him. As he turns back around, I get a peek at who he’s talking to and my heart stops. All of the oxygen leaves my body and an all-encompassing sadness slithers its way inside me.

  He’s not alone.

  She’s tall and lithe. Long brown hair cascades down her back in waves.

  She’s beautiful.

  The woman says something which causes Preston to throw his head back and laugh in joyous abandon.

  He’s happy.

  Familiar ghosts are gnawing at me, the panic that wants to overtake my body consuming. It claws at me. Wanting desperately to take over and pull me into it’s wicked trance. I almost fall prey, but I’ve come too far.

  Instead I straighten my back and stand taller.

  You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re better.

  She mouths something to him then places her hand lovingly on his forearm, leaning up on tiptoes to place a tender kiss on his cheek…every last piece of me dies.

  I’m too late. He’s moved on.

  Everything in me says get the hell out of here, but I’m too late. Before I can make my escape, our gaze locks. Preston’s dark eyes go wide, his pupils taking up the entire circumference. Every muscle in his body seems to tense.

  Inhale. One. Two. Three.

  Exhale. One. Two. Three.

  Through my breathing, memories of everything I’ve learned since I met Preston flood my mind. My journey to forgiveness, overcoming my fears about life and myself. I will not falter. I will square my shoulders and hold my head high. I will remember to be strong, and not to let the sadness take over.

  At least not here…not where he can see me fall.

  He steps toward me.

  “Eve?” he says confused. Like he’s trying to gauge whether it’s really me he’s seeing. I close the distance between us, standing in front of them, my teeth gnawing viciously at inside of my cheek.

  “Hello, Preston.” I turn my head toward the brunette, smiling wide despite the very real need to cry.

  “Oh. Um, this is Heather. Heather this is Eve Hamilton,” he stutters. The awkwardness of the situation only grows worse with his obvious discomfort. I extend my hand, hoping to alleviate the tension.

  “Nice to meet you, Heather.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Eve.” She smiles warmly at me.

  She’s sweet.

  “We were just grabbing breakfast,” he offers lamely. Heather moves closer to him. The way she’s staring at him makes every muscle in my body feel as if it’s being pulled tight.

  She’s in love with him.

  “Are you coming or going?” Preston asks, pulling me out of my haze.

  “Going.” I step aside. “I’m going.” He nods and opens his mouth to speak but stops himself.

  “Ready to sit, Preston?” Her hand rubs up his arm. She’s touching him, her hands are on him—I am barely masking the pain this is causing. Desperate to leave, I nod and begin to slowly retreat.

  I have to go.

  As strong as I am now, this is too much. Seeing him here. Seeing her with him is too much. I need to be alone. I need to feel this pain.

  “It was good seeing you, Eve.” I don’t miss the way his voice cracks when he says my name.

  I smile. It’s weak and fake, but it’s the only thing I can do to not fall apart right there in the middle of the restaurant.

  My eyes meet his one final time as a single tear I can no longer hold falls.

  Three Days Later . . .

  “I saw Preston the other day, ” I say to Dr. Beckett as I lean forward hugging my knees to my chest. “He was with another woman.” She pauses what she’s writing, and looks up at me. The lines etched on her weathered face becoming more pronounced.

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “It tore me in two. That day I arrived feeling on top of the world and ready to move forward. The ambush backfired in the cruelest of ways. It hurts to know that I lost him, but at least he looks happy and that makes me happy. The hardest part is that I have so much I need to say to him, and never had the chance. I couldn’t get past the hurt to just say it. The strength to pull him aside to talk was not there.”

  “I know it must feel hard and I’m sure you’re scared of what you will find out, but I do think you need closure. I think your next step is you reaching out to him, thanking him, and then you might be ready to move on.”

  “Okay.” My fragile heart doesn’t want to know if he’s moved on with Heather. From the looks at the diner, he has. I can’t blame him. She was perfect in every way. How could I expect him to wait for me? It was unrealistic for me to think he wouldn’t.

  So much time has passed, and my feelings have never wavered. Unfortunately, I was too late. Regardless, I do agree I need to thank him for being instrumental to me finally finding peace with my mother and with myself.

  Once back at my apartment, my eyes are glued to the blank screen in front of me. I know I have to dial. I need to find the strength, swallow my pride and stuff my emotions as far down as I can. With a shaking hand, I type the one number I’ve avoided for so long.

&
nbsp; “Eve?” It’s him. His voice sends my heart soaring despite my every move to suppress it.

  “Hi,” I squeak. “Listen, I know this is long overdue but I needed to speak with you.”

  Silence fills the space between. My nerves are getting the better of me, so I rattle on. “I wanted to say thank you.” Still he says nothing. At this point I have nothing to lose, so I go on. “Meeting you, loving you…it was my saving grace.” I sigh. “No matter what happens, I need you to know.” I prepare to hang up as it appears he has nothing to offer, but finally he speaks.

  “Meet me. I need to talk to you.” My stomach tightens in nerves.

  “I don’t know if that’s smart. I don’t want to cause problems between you and Heather,” I whisper so that he doesn’t hear how my voice cracks.

  “Eve, we need to talk about that.” My heart hammers in my chest and I nod to myself, not that he can see me. “Is that a yes,” he says through the phone.

  “Yes.” I stutter.

  “Have you had dinner?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Okay, Paradise. Eight Thirty?” An hour and half to prepare to see him… Am I ready? Can I do this? Will I have the strength to hear whatever he has to say?

  I am.

  Good or bad it’s time I put this part to rest.

  “Okay.” The line goes dead.

  I’m going to be late. Shit. With fast steps, I move through the crowded streets and to the corner. My skirt flies up as a cab whooshes by.

  I wonder what will happen. How everything will go down. As I wait for the light to change and the cars to pass, I look into the passing traffic. It isn’t so bad for a Tuesday evening, and walking in the crisp air is invigorating. New York City isn’t usually this chilly this time of year, but it seems spring is lingering in the air. This thought reminds me that we are only nine months away from the statue of limitation running out. I shake off the thought. No need to set myself up for more disappointment.