Okay, remember what Tess always says—what she's taughtme: Sensation anchors.
Five things you can see.
My vintage lamp from that thrift store in Cambridge. A coaster. A Marshmallow Fireside candle. A blue tissue box. The... that damn stuffed lobster he bought me in Maine because I thought it was adorable. I want to grab it and chuck it across the floor, punch it over and over again, but those stupid little soulless eyes look at me, and I can't. I can't even hurt a present from him, but he can decimate me and walk away clean.
My vision blurs, clears, then blurs again. I try to breathe in for four counts, out for six. I can only make it to three before my chest locks up.
Hot. I am hot. I drag the blanket off my lap and shove it away, watching as it falls to the floor. My hands find the edge of the coffee table, and I hold on like I might slide off the edge of the earth if I let go.
Paul was the first man who didn't disappoint me, who didn't hurt me, or who didn't try to stuff me into a box I didn't fit. He accepted me as I am, the way my exes didn't, the way my father never did. My father never even seemed to care if I lived or died, and somehowthisfeels more cruel than that. At least I know where I stand with my father. Paul acted as if he loved me, said he loved me. He said we would face this together, and then he betrayed me.
Now I'm alone, battling cancer.
And I hate that I now feel like I was the problem, like I made him feel that I was entitled to his support and love. But, isn't that what marriage is about?
Over and over again, I've heard people say 50/50 is a myth—sometimes it's 60/40, sometimes it's 20/80—the point is teamwork, true partnership. Sometimes you have to carry moreweight, and other times you have to lean on them and let them carry the load.
I just thought... that this would be the one time he would have to carry more of the load, so that I could just get through this—the surgery, the chemo, the radiation, the fear—and just focus on living, on surviving.
This isn't fair,the thought brings a fresh stream of angry tears.
Tess. I need to call Tess.
My breaths are coming in short, fast bursts as my heart slams against my ribs. I stand from the couch and immediately sit back down. The room tilts, and I have to stabilize myself with the arm of the couch.
I give myself thirty seconds and then stumble over to the kitchen table, where, only an hour ago, Paul and I sat down to plan out my treatment plan—as a team.I had joked around with Karen about reality TV, unaware that my fiancé had been hiding a betrayal, and had been cheating on me for two months.
A sob tears its way from my throat, and my shaky fingers find the familiar contact in my phone.
"Hey, Soph," my sister's voice is like a balm on a burn. "Did you get everything scheduled?"
My throat clogs as I try to answer. All I can squeak out is, "Tess..."
She's alert instantly. "What happened?"
"He... he cheated," I choke out, my voice hitching as the tears fall fast and free. "He—he said he's been sleeping with his coworker... I don't... I can't... why..."
The silence from the other end of the line is heavy. After a couple of moments, I hear two deep inhales and exhales.
Oh, she’s angry.
"He's so lucky I'm across an ocean," she mutters, then resets, command voice slipping into big-sister mode. "Alright. Okay,Soph. You're having a panic attack. We've done this before, haven't we? And we always get through them. Feet on the floor?"
"Mhm..." is all I can get out through clenched teeth, my lips pressing together tightly.
"Good, kiddo," her voice softens a bit. "You're doing great. Hands?"
I look at my left hand. "Shaking."
"Perfect. They want to move? We'll give them a job. Go to the freezer. Ice pack, frozen peas, anything. Put it on your wrists. Move."
I stumble to the fridge, phone pinched to my shoulder, and open the freezer. I see the little bags of bananas for our morning smoothies, meticulously organized and labeled by day of the week.I have too many now.The thought stabs me for a second.
I grab one of his—the one marked for Saturday—and press it to one wrist, then the other. The cold shocks me, but it feels good.
"Okay..."
"Now look around. Five things you can see."
