“The guilt you feel is natural—completely normal. Realistically, you will probably always feel some measure of it.” She paused, studying how my body tensed. “I’m not saying that to upset you. Guilt is a weird fickle beast, and it’s one that the majority of people always struggle with, but learn to live with. The goal is to find alternate paths—healthier paths of coping.”
With a shaking hand, I wiped a lone tear off my cheek.
I still felt guilty a lot of the time. I still blamed myself, but the pressure and weight of it wasn’t as constant as it used to be. It wasn’t this too heavy load threatening to drag me under…I wasn’t sinking all of the time anymore.
“We can facilitate the meeting here—you, your parents, them, myself…if you think that would be better.”
I thought of it and hated the idea. How impersonal it would feel to meet in this pseudo-sterilized office.
I shook my head.
“What…what if they hate me.”
“What if they do hate you? What then?”
I sucked in a shaky breath. I didn’t know.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think they will. I think they’ve been waiting for you to be ready to reach out.”
“But it was my choice to?—”
“Pause. I know you feel the guilt for what happened that day. But you, Asher and your coach decided on the skills and program you’d perform. You are not the sole responsible party here.”
“Online people?—”
“Online people have seen video clips, heard a sound bite, read someone’s inane rant on a feed—their opinions in the grand scheme of things—they don’t matter. I know that’s easier said than done, but I need you to try and remember that. Reflect on the reasons why you think you’re at fault for what happened.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
“Plan a visit. Give it a try. And during the next session, we can talk about how it went for you.”
So,here I was, standing on the doorstep that had never once felt unwelcoming in the past. This door had never once been closed to me, had never been slammed in my face. Now, it felt like a barrier I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to cross.
If I’d been stronger, I would have come alone, I wouldn’t be contemplating wanting to turn around and run in the oppositedirection. Mom was standing next to me, her hand on my lower back—a comforting pressure to keep me steady and my nerves in check. It didn’t matter which reassurances my therapist had given me—the gnawing fear that they’d open that door and hate me?
I wrung my hands together in front of me.
Letting out a shaky breath, I focused on the sun warming the back of my head. The feel of the cool winter air freezing my lungs. I looked at the little potted pine tree on the porch, and counted the seven baubles that decorated it. Three red, three green, and one gold.
I heard the jangle of mom’s keys from wherever she stood behind me.
I was terrified. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. My hands felt clammy. I was shaking, and it wasn’t due to the chill in the air. My whole body was fighting fight or flight, and flight wanted to win terribly. The angry wasps were roiling in full force, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to respond when the door finally opened.
The navy blue door that had once been as familiar to me as my own. An evergreen holiday wreath hung with a bright red bow.
Asher’s parents had been like a second set to me. Alice and Jon had claimed me as one of their own—the daughter they never were able to have. I lost the battle with silent tears when I realized that maybe my absence made them feel like they’d lost two children that day…and I didn’t know what to do with that thought. I didn’t know how to redirect.
Mom’s hand rubbed soothing circles on my back, and I wanted to tell her that I didn’t think I could do this after all—face them—but my voice got stuck in my throat just as the door swung open. Alice Leland stood there. Tears were pooling and spilling just like mine and she threw her arms around me.
It took the span of three heartbeats, and a gasping breath before I was hugging her back and sobbing into her shoulder. We stood on the Leland family’s porch and cried. The air smelled of the florals Mrs. Leland favored and the tears flowed harder. Her arms tightened around me and there were no words. Nothing would be enough.
I didn’t want to let go, but I forced myself to start to pull back, when another pair of arms wrapped around the two of us.Jon. His hand rested on the back of my head, and a fresh wave of tears poured from me.
We wereall sitting in the family room. It hadn’t changed—still sporting the oversized comfy couch that we used to curl up in. The framed pictures were all the same, the knick-knacks on the shelves. I ran my hand over the blanket that we’d spent so many moments under.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you,” I said, not able to meet their gazes.
I wiped my cheek with the cuff of my sleeve, and Alice squeezed my hand she hadn’t let go of since we’d stopped crying on the porch.
