So here are my five good things:
1.That I know what true happiness is because I met her.
2.That my sister is finally back on the East Coast and we celebrated the opening of her practice here in Boston.
3.That my mother is finally settled here as well, and we’ve had quite a few good days.
4.That my team is heading into the finals.
5.I have some of the best friends a guy could ask for, who show up weekly to make sure I still know how to laugh.
My therapist was right. After the exercise, I realized I have a lot to be grateful for. So I suggest making your own lists. It helps even in some of the darkest moments to remember what you do have.
And baby girl, you still have me. I miss you like crazy. And I’m doing everything I can to come back to you.
Until then, know that I’m here, and I’m always yours.
FIFTY-TWO
SAVANNAH
I glancedown at the address on my phone’s screen and then back up at the building, my stomach in knots.
What am I doing here? This is a terrible idea. It’s been two months, and I haven’t picked up the phone, let alone showed up at his home. Still, even though we haven’t said a word to one another in that time, I feel like he talks to me weekly.
Because of the columns.
So often, I’m tempted to reply in the comments, or maybe through a Calliope column, but I’ve never worked up the courage.
Still, Camden keeps writing. At least once a week, often more frequently. According to the columns, he’s been in therapy for seven weeks, and he’s been to a doctor to check on the viability of his swimmers. That alone is mind-boggling. And because of the columns, I know that his mother and sister have moved to Boston, and that his sister has opened a practice here.
Cora Snow, LPC.
There’s her name. On the sign beside the door.
I blow out a breath, nerves skittering through me. Am I really doing this?
Camden isn’t the only one who’s been working through past trauma. After reading his first column, I cried for hours. I wanted to run back to him. I wanted to forgive him and tell him he was already good enough for me and always has been.
But I knew, deep down, that neither of us was truly ready. And if we didn’t do the work separately, we’d end up here again. And I can’t lose him a second time. Once was hard enough.
But the truth is, I’ve barely scratched the surface in therapy. I’m not sure how I’ll ever unpack the hurts that come with having two parents who truly never wanted me.
The best I’ve come up with is that it’s not something I can understand. I definitely can’t control their feelings or behavior. And I’m not sure if I’ll ever get over the trauma they’ve caused.
But what I do understand and what I know I can control is how I allow it to affect my other relationships. I can’t assume that because my parents don’t care about me, no one else does either. I can’t put what my parents did on other people. It’s unfair. Especially when I have people like Rosalie and Josie and the Donovans, who show up every day to let me know they care. When I have friends like Addie, who texts me no matter where she is during her last hockey season to let me know she loves me. Or Sutton, who will randomly show up after rehearsal with snacks and tell me it’s a rom-com night.
They’ve proven to me that I deserve to be happy.
And I’ve realized I can be happy on my own. I don’t need Camden for that. But I really want him. Though I’m not sure we can ever truly move past who I am, who my parents are, to his family.
Which is why I’m here.
Camden’s relationship with his sister is incredibly important to him. As it should be. And I can’t stop thinking about the haunted look in his eye when he told me what my parents put Cora through. While they’d never apologize for what they did, I feel like I should.
So though I lack the courage to walk in there confidently, I force myself inside anyway.
Josie called and scheduled an appointment for me under a fake name. I’m an asshole for being deceitful, yes, but I was worried that if she knew I was the one coming in, she’d refuse to see me, and I didn’t want to come by unannounced and disrupt her time with other clients.
