“I mean, it’s not like you’ll ever live there again. Why don’t you want to?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like selling it simply because Jennifer wants money. It’s all I have left of my father.”
“Eh, that’s kinda silly. Jonas says you—”
“I’m not exactly interested in what Jonas has to say about my life.” I approached Dr. Sharpe’s building. “I have an appointment. I have to go.”
“I knew you’d get mad at me.” She sniffled.
“I’m not mad,” I soothed her. “I really do have to see someone. I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay. I just think your father knew you loved him. Selling a house you haven’t lived in for almost twenty years doesn’t mean you don’t.”
“I know. Bye, Lindee.” I ended the call, signed in to the building, then took the elevator up to the doctor’s suite. Her secretary led me in, and Dr. Sharpe greeted me.
“Bailey, nice to see you again. How’s your week going?”
Dr. Sharpe’s silver hair in its meticulous bun gleamed in the overhead lights. As always, she wore a knitted suit jacket and skirt, navy blue this time with gold buttons. In the fifteen years she’d been my therapist, I didn’t think I’d ever seen her in pants. Around sixty, she exuded a calm, almost cozy presence, something my overactive mind and mouth appreciated, as she always made me stop and think my answers out. Today was no exception.
“I’m not sure.”
She cocked her head. “Would you like to explain? Are things still going well with you and Keston?”
A smile pulled up my lips. “Oh, yeah. No problem there.”
Her eyes brightened. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. So is something else bothering you?”
Frustrated, I clasped and unclasped my hands. “I feel like it’s a rinse and repeat. It’s my mother. Again. Right before I came in here, I heard from my sister, who told me Jennifer talked to her about getting me to sell the house. Belinda said she wasn’t going to get involved, but she’s starting to push me.”
“How so?”
“She says she’s on my side, and yet she’s quoting me what the home is worth and telling me that the house has nothing to do with loving my father.”
“And you disagree? You think it does?”
As always when I delved deeper into the subject, my body went into defensive mode and it was fight or flight. “I can’t imagine not having the house. He loved it so much. It holds all my memories of us together. When we were happy.”
Dr. Sharpe put her pad down. She took notes the old-fashioned way, pen to paper. “Is it really the house that holds the memories, or your heart? When you think of the good times in your life, do you think of the place or is it the person?”
I sat in thought, her words resonating. “I-I know it’s all him. But thinking of how we’d play catch in the yard, or when I’d help him plant his vegetable garden…my grandparents baking in the kitchen. I don’t want to lose that.”
“And you wouldn’t even if you sold the house. I’m not telling you what to do, Bailey. But those memories are of the emotional connection with people. You could toss a football in Central Parkand think the same. Or put a pot on your windowsill to grow something.” Her eyes twinkled. “Even try your hand at baking in your kitchen. All these actions will revive memories that don’t require you to be present in the place where they occurred. The only thing required is the love that existed between you and that person.”
I wiped my eyes. “I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. Whenever I see the 9/11 memorial, I think of my dad and our good times.” I blinked to clear the blurriness. “And I know I’m being petty, but I hate the thought of having to give my mother anything from the sale of the house.”
“Think of it this way—if and when you decide to sell, once she has her share, I doubt you’ll see her anytime soon. That peace of mind could make it worth it. I don’t often encourage my patients to cut ties with their families, but in your case, I don’t believe you can heal unless you make a clean break.”
Later that evening, when Keston and I were on his sofa, after eating dinner, I relayed Dr. Sharpe’s analysis and waited for his reaction.
“You know, sometimes I think about finding my mother. I get in these moods where I want to come face-to-face with her and ask why she let us go and never tried to get us back or even contact us.”
I stroked his hand. “I’d wondered if you ever had. There are ways you know, similar to how Grady found you.”
He laced our fingers together and tugged. I crawled over to him and rested my face on his chest as he held me. “It goes both ways. She could’ve tried as well. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I became that she never made that effort. So I decided against it. Maybe she had a good reason or maybe not. For me, I’m better off as I am now. With the people who want tobe with me.” He played with my hair. “If you’re interested in my opinion on your situation, I think you should sell.”
At his words, I sat up. “Really? Why?”
“Because the doctor is right. It’s the person, not the place that makes you happy. I think that’s why people get tattoos of their loved ones after they die. To carry the memory of them wherever they go.”
