* * *
I’m alone on a rowboat with nothing but ocean surrounding me in every direction. Above me, the night sky is clear, and I’ve never seen so many stars. The ocean is still, quiet, leaving room for contemplation of the stars above.
I feel … strangely at peace.
I remain seated in the rowboat for a moment, satisfied to simply take in this moment. Eyes shut. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
“You’ve gotten pretty good at that.” The voice startles me, and I open my eyes. I’m taken aback when I see Dad sitting right in front of me. But I knew it was him just from his voice. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“I had to.” I cross my arms. “No thanks to you.”
My dad gives me a sad smile. “I know. And you’ve turned out pretty good despite our little family curse.”
“Pretty good?” I fight to keep my voice calm. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Don’t you?”
He shrugs. “Do you?”
Anger starts rising through me. “Social workers. Psycho-educators. Therapists. I’ve gone through them all. And they all basically say the same things. Give the same tips. And it’s not like you were around much to help me through it. That one time, maybe. Yeah, I’ve gotten better at knowing when the panic attacks are coming, and I know how to mitigate them, but … at what cost, really?” I take another deep breath. “I can’t have a ‘normal’ job. If I weren’t my own boss, I couldn’t do this. I’m basically unemployable. I can’t make friends. Going out where there are too many people is possible, but it’s a struggle, and some days are worse than others. Plus, the man I thought I was going to have kids with left me. And the cherry on top?Youleft me. So, yeah, I think saying I’m ‘doing good’ is an exaggeration. I’m surviving, Dad. I’m not ‘doing good’.”
He doesn’t say anything for a little while. Instead, he looks at me, his piercing green eyes staring straight into my soul. Then he finally speaks up. “Have you considered you’re not supposed to be doing good right now, honey?”
“What do you mean by that? Didn’t you just say you thought I was doing good?”
“Well, you are, given the circumstances.” He looks out to the sea. “But I think you’re looking at it from the wrong perspective, Avery.”
This is getting annoying. “Are you just going to riddle me to death, or what?”
“You’re trying to go back to who you were. Aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” Then I look back up at him. “But how do I go back?”
“You’ll have to figure that out on your own … All I’m saying is, I think you’re doing good, despite everything you’re going through. I don’t think I would have fared any better, my strong girl.”
“But I’m not trying to be you,” I argue. “So the fact that you wouldn’t have done any better isn’t some kind of milestone for me, Dad. I’m trying to be better. God, I love you, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not trying to model who you are.”
“So, is that what you’re afraid of?” he asks. “You’re afraid of turning into me?”
“No!” I yell back, but I immediately soften. “Yes … maybe? Ugh.” I let my face fall into my hands. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. All I know is that I want a partner who’s there for me, for our kids. And when I’m there, I want to be fully there. I want to go out and do things, even though the anxiety makes it so,sohard. I don’t want to be the recluse who comes home after work, spends an hour or two in front of the TV, and then hides away in my room while the rest of my family moves on with their lives. I don’t want to be that person, but I feel myself turning into that, day after day, because just existing is hard, and going out in the world is hard, and?—”
“Shhh.” I’ve begun crying, but he’s holding me now. “It’s okay, strong girl. I’m here.”
“But you’re not.” It’s just a dream.
“I know. I know. But he is.”
“Logan?” I look up at him. “I can’t rely on him like that. I can’t live my life relying on someone else to function like a human being. I can’t do that to him.”
“Then don’t.” He strokes my hair, and oh, how I wish this was real. How I wish he was here. “Be a big girl. Work on yourself. But don’t pass up a good thing, either. You can have both, can’t you?”
“Can I?”
“I don’t know, my strong girl. It’s up to you.”
CHAPTER12
Shit, shit, shit.
By the time I’ve completely woken up, I realize how long I’ve been asleep. I don’t know the time yet, but it’s late enough for the sun to have set, which means it’s at least 9 p.m.
