“Lennon, do us both a favor and stop lying.”
I stood in the doorway, hands fisted at my sides, feeling the way I had the one time I’d been sent to the principal’s office in elementary school. One of the kids had called my mother a dirty Mexican whore. I hadn’t known exactly that what last word meant, but I knew I didn’t like how he put dirty before Mexican, as if we were less than him because of our heritage and darker complexion. So, I’d pounded an apology out of him.
Never had to fight again—all the other kids remembered that little snot’s bloodied and bruised face.
“I’m not doing this,” I said, turning away.
“Before you go, I have just one question for you.”
I stopped, my back rigid. Amber waited until I turned to face her once more. She was smart, caring, warm, and tough—everything we needed in a team psychologist. She refused to let us hide from ourselves, so I braced myself for the question.
“When you finally choose to deal with the issue that has you so afraid you’re running from me, from your friendships on this team, from the woman you claim to love yet won’t even talk to, do you think those people will still be waiting for you? Follow up: Do you think they’ll all just forgive your behavior and go forward, as if nothing happened?”
An antsy, nasty feeling crept through my guts. Vivian. It had been months. What if…what if she was dating? What if she was happy with some doctor douchebag? What if she married him?
I stared at Amber as the possibility played out—Vivian driving her kids to dance class and…soccer practice because I knew she wouldn’t have a kid who played hockey. I’d ruined the sport for her. That wasn’t me trying to aggrandize myself; I just knew that when Vivian moved on, she’d cut every single tie to anything related to me from her life.
“I…”
“Sit down, Lennon,” Amber said gently as she rounded her desk. Her expression switched to concern from the cool, implacable mask it had been. Her strong fingers wrapped around my wrist, and she led me to the couch that sat against the far wall of her office.
Once she had me settled, she took the seat in a chair between me and the door, effectively blocking my exit.
“Just so you know, I cleared my entire schedule. I’m here for as long as you need.”
That turned out to be a good thing because I needed a long time to start talking. Too long, but I’d kept all the thoughts and fears in my head for so many months that they’d tangled and morphed and turned into something more sinister.
Finally, my stomach growled, rousing me from the daze I’d settled into. I noted Amber staring out her window at the Houston skyline. Skyscrapers dotted the view to the horizon, which was bloated with thunderheads. A storm brewed. Nothing new. I had one inside of me as well. I took a deep, painful breath and blew it out slowly. “I’m afraid.” The words cut into my mind, my pride, seemingly my very flesh.
Amber handed me a bottle of Gatorade. The blue kind, my favorite. “Most of us are—of something,” she said. “What is your fear?”
I took a long drink and set the half-empty bottle on my knee. Okay, I could do this. I was an adult. I was in touch with my feelings. I was the sensitive one of our group. “I’m afraid that if I see Vivian again, she’ll be hurt like I was.”
“Is that likely?”
“I think so.” I explained what I remembered the assaulter saying to me.
“Hmm…”
“What does that mean?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “It means I’m considering your response, but it created a new question: Is your fear rational?”
My session with Amber left me feeling shaky but also more at ease—not my body, but my mind.
The weird and terrible truth about our minds, Amber had told me, was how often they lied to us.
The thing that made me me had lied to me. How fucked up was that?
I wasn’t cured after talking, but I was less burdened.
Yet that might well be a curse, because now I worried about Vivian more than I had before, when I’d shoved all thoughts of her aside. Of course I wanted her to be safe, but I wondered if I could ever make her happy. If she’d ever trust me. If she’d started seeing someone else, if I had the right to contact her and mess up her life again.
So many thoughts jumbled together, but at the center was my fear of that main attacker, threatening to hurt Vivian because of me. That I still couldn’t shake.
What if Amber was wrong and my fears were founded? What if…
There were so many possibilities my mind spun. But first thing was to apologize to Coach Whittaker.
