Today, though—today is just for us. No matter how little time we have. We’ve been on the phone for ten minutes, and I only have ten more minutes before it’s time for me to go. It’s early for Matteo, but when I told him what time I would be leaving for the care center, he promised he would wake up to have one last conversation with me before I left.
As the minutes start to feel like they’re ticking down faster, my eyes feel watery and I’m glad I asked for a phone call rather than a video one. If I had to see him face to face, I might break down and decide to stay.
“Anya?” Matteo asks, voice soft. “You there?”
“Sorry,” I answer, standing up to walk around my room to distract myself. “I got lost in my thoughts for a second.”
“Good thoughts or bad ones?”
“Both, maybe,” I reply, swallowing. “I don’t know. I’m kind of scared.”
“Of course you are,” he says, breathing out. “But you’re so brave, Anya. You’re going to do so well. I already know it.”
“I don’t feel brave,” I argue, hugging my stomach with my free hand. “I feel like I could throw up, honestly.”
“But you’re still going, aren’t you?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Then you’re brave,” Matteo declares. “Brave people feel fear, they just don’t let it stop them. Nothing is stopping you from doing this, Anya. You made up your mind because you know deep down that this is what you want and what you feel you need. You’re going to crush it.”
“Sometimes I think you’re too nice to me,” I tell him, feeling a stray tear leak from the corner of my eye. “I never have to give you pep talks or help you solve any of your problems. It doesn’t feel fair.”
“You told me I didn’t have to be nice to you at Jade’s wedding.” He almost chuckles, making a huffing sort of amused noise. “I told you then and I’ll tell you now, I don’t lie about pretty girls—and I definitely don’t lie to my best friend. Being nice to you is no burden, Anya. It’s the best part of my day.”
“It’s the best part of my day too,” I reply almost shyly. My alarm beeps quietly and I frown. “I have to go now. I…I can’t wait to read your letters. If you still want to send them?—”
“I’m going to start my first one as soon as we hang up,” he interrupts. “Try not to miss me or anyone else too much, okay? Focus on yourself and we’ll all be waiting for you.”
“O-okay.” I nod to myself and quickly add, “Don’t say goodbye.”
“Not goodbye,” he agrees. “I’ll talk to you later,meraviglia.”
“Talk to you later, Matteo.”
I leave my room as soon as our call ends, refusing to let myself be caught up in the moment. My father is going to drive me to my home for the next two months, and I want to spend the car ride talking with him. I want to share words with the man who’s made all this possible, and to tell him that I’ll miss him without bursting into tears.
And that’s exactly what I do.
Things move very quickly after that.
My first day at the facility is eventful, despite very little actually happening. Dad isn’t allowed to see me into my room, but he’s able to give me a hug goodbye in their receiving area. Families are only permitted to stay in the designated space so that other patients don’t see an unfamiliar face and become anxious or worried about what the stranger may do.
It makes sense, but part of me wishes I could have my dad with me, at least for the first night. I know I need to do this alone, but I’ll miss him. I just got used to being close with him again, and now we’ll be almost a half hour apart at all times.
Once he leaves, Tiffany gives me a tour of her facility herself. She says that typically another staff member would, but that she made time in her schedule for me and would make it a point to be extra available during my stay. Other therapists work with her and her patients, but she would be my only one-on-one doctor.
She shows me my room last. A plain but not cold and unwelcoming space. I have my own bed, desk, chair, dresser, and small bathroom. She goes through my bag, checking for any contraband as protocol dictates. But when she finds nothing, she also helps me make my bed.
I can’t put into words how much her commitment to making me comfortable while also helping me take this leap means tome. I’ve silently thanked my father every day for the past few days just for finding her. I have a feeling that this program really will bring me into the next phase of healing.
The second day is easy. I have my meals in the shared dining space, and two sessions with Tiffany to make sure that I manage well on the different menu. She gave me the option to have separate food prepared so that I can stick to my routine, at least for the first couple days, but she requested that I try eating the provided meal options first, noting that my personal menu was built to take the burden of decisions away from me.
I agreed to try, and it was odd trying something new after so long of eating the same food weekly, but not unsettling. The food was good, and a mix between healthy and indulgent options. I didn’t need to eat anything that looked unappetizing, and there were enough readily available choices that it didn’t feel like a true decision to make. I just gravitated toward what looked good and it ended up being fine.
Three days in, I hear so many stories during my first group session that make my stomach hurt. The one that stands out the most comes from a ginger-haired girl called Rory. She’s twenty, and not even three months ago she was captured and tortured by three of her half brothers.
Her father’s family runs a failing biker club, and her mother wanted nothing to do with it. She’d disappeared into the night at age three with her mom, and it had taken them seventeen years to find her. They tortured the two of them for hours and eventually killed her mom. They left Rory alive to live in fear and with the many marks they’d given her. She doesn’t hide hers like I hide mine, but they also never touched Rory in the way I’d been touched.
