The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (261 page)

“I am alone,” I said, getting upset all over again. In an attempt to rescue myself from falling back into my rut after I had begun to climb out of it, I flipped the page to the next exercise. It was an affirmation, look in a mirror and say,
I am a strong woman and I deserve love.
I went to my all-knowing mirror, which annoyingly reflected my recent state, and stared at myself for a few minutes. To my surprise, I couldn’t make the words come out without tears, so I started slow.

“I am a strong woman.” I repeated about fifteen times. “I am a strong woman and I deserve . . . love.” I said over again until it felt better. I wasn’t sure I believed it wholeheartedly, but I hoped eventually I would.

––––––––

T
he sun peeked through the window blinds early Monday morning, alerting me to get up. When I remembered that I would be returning to work, my stomach knotted in anticipation like it was the first day of school. I lay there for a few minutes internally debating whether or not I was ready to go back. How could I possibly help people with their relationship problems if I could barely help myself? What kind of expert doesn’t spot a cheat until it’s too late? I felt over anxious, under qualified, and dizzy. I reached for the meditation book on my nightstand and opened it to an exercise for anxiety.

The exercise consisted of a yoga pose I was familiar with, the child’s pose. With my knees on the floor, I bent forward and rested my forehead. I breathed deeply and repeated
I am safe
over in my mind. I even repeated the words aloud. The exercise was supposed to be calming, but instead I started to feel claustrophobic and my sinuses pained. It wasn’t working, and I was going to be late for work.
Perhaps my humbling heartache will give me greater compassion for my patients
, I thought trying to see the silver lining.

The moment I saw the revolving doors of my office building, I turned around to go home. Going back to work was a bad idea. About half a block later, I stopped and told myself I was being ridiculous. Then I turned back and walked on, making it inside and all the way up the elevator and to the doors of the practice.

Diana greeted me with a thoughtful smile.

“Oh, hellooo, Marin.” She stood in her usual stance.

“Hi, Diana.”

“I hope everything’s okay now.”

I was silent for a moment, unable to conjure any appropriate words, not even a polite lie to say that I was fine. She must’ve gotten the hint, because she began updating me with appointments and messages.

It was nine o’clock when I was able to shut myself in my office. I tried to remember the last time I was there. It was such a blur, as if my life before was a dream. So much had changed, and I was braving a new world. Chad and I smiled inside a frame that sat on my desk. The memory of that sunny day in Cancun flashed, an easier time to say the least. Tears threatened, but I shook myself out of it and hid the picture in my purse. After a minute of deep breathing, I got to work. I was sorting my files and notes when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I said. Katie came through the door with a big smile, her red hair fastened in a bun with a pencil. She carried a bouquet of yellow flowers.

“Hi, Marin!” she said.

“Hey.”

“These are for you.” She handed me the bright flowers. Their fresh aroma pleasantly welcomed me back.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t want to bug you, but we want you to know that we all missed you and we’re glad you’re back,” Katie said with a hesitant hug.

“I’m glad to be back.”
No I wasn’t.
Hey, I could politely fake it!

“That’s great. Call if you need anything,” Katie said and left my office.

It was time for my nine-thirty. I braced myself. Unsure of how it would go, I wanted to give it my best shot.

Rochelle and Chris, a couple in their late thirties with two teenage kids. They began seeing me almost two years before when they had hit a “rough patch.” Their kids and jobs took up so much of their time that they became distant and nearly divorced. A friend recommended counseling, and they took it on as a last attempt.

The two sat close together on the couch, holding hands, which was a far cry from the first time I met them. Back then they could hardly look at one another let alone sit on the same side of the couch together. Yep, their progress was solid, and I was hopeful it would be an easy session.

“Dr. Johns, we have something to tell you,” Rochelle said.

“Go ahead.”

“Chris and I have decided to renew our vows this spring.” They gazed at each other like little lovebirds.

“That’s wonderful,” I said, forcing a smile. With my help, they chose recommitting over divorce. It was the entire purpose of my work. I should have been jumping for joy, but all I could think was,
I want that.
I watched as the two of them hung on to their marriage with only a small hope. They put in the time and the work and realized they had a great thing the whole time. All they needed was a little help to remind them how to be together, see the good in one another, enjoy and support each other. That’s real love, not giving up when the road gets rough.

I thought about Chad. Had I given up too quickly? I loved him. Yes, he cheated, but he wanted to make things right. Did I make a mistake turning him away? Tears surfaced at an unstoppable rate, and I was unable to stifle my cry.

“Are you alright?” Chris asked.

I lowered my head to my knees for a second, thinking it would help me pull myself together, but it only made me cry harder. How embarrassing. Crying over my break-up when I should’ve been embracing the couple’s newfound happiness.
Happiness
, I thought. That’s a good cover. I lifted my head and looked at Rochelle and Chris.

“I’m just overwhelmed with happiness for you both,” I said, weeping. “I mean you’ve come such a long way. Despite all the odds you made it. You really made it.” The two smiled with relief. Yeah, they bought it.

They spent the rest of their session updating me on their progress. I congratulated them one last time and told them they could come see me anytime, but that my work with them was done. It should have felt great seeing them graduate into their new life together. Instead, I grappled with the notion that I could work so hard for them and give up so easily on my own love.

Somehow I managed to make it through the rest of my appointments, but not without a tear here and there. My excuses became more creative: seasonal allergies, eyelash in the eye, bad contacts, and tears of joy or sorrow for any obvious crying. All in all the day was pretty . . . terrible. I struggled to hold myself together in those sessions with the consistent doubts about my decision to send Chad away without giving him a real chance to work it out. After all, I was about to commit forever to him. Did I give up forever for a mistake that could have been forgiven with a little bit of time and work?

I poured myself a glass of pinot noir immediately when I got back to my apartment. The silence in the room grew more evident with each sip of wine, and I wondered how long it might stay that way.

I didn’t want to be home, but I didn’t want to be at work either. I was dreading counseling my patients. I doubted my ability to restrain my emotions in session, because I felt like a hypocrite. Maybe I returned to work too soon. As my worries developed, I called on one of my own.

Katie agreed to meet with me before her first appointment.

“Morning, Marin,” she said behind the piles of paper and files that towered around her. I handed her a cup of coffee from the shop around the corner, her favorite.

“You like scones, right?” I asked, handing her the small box.

“I love ‘em, but you didn’t have to do that,” she said, taking two blueberry pastries.

“I really appreciate you meeting with me.”

“What’s on your mind?”

I waited for a second, then took a long sip of my coffee. Katie didn’t know what happened or why I had been out for a week. I thought of the different ways I could manipulate the words, but in that moment I forgot all of them. So I opted for pure candor.

“Chad and I broke up,” I said. Her eyes flew open, and she dropped her scone on the desk. I reinforced my words with a nod.

“Oh, my God, what happened?” She stared at me with gossip hungry eyes.

“I caught him with another woman when I came back from Vegas. Early.”

“You’re kidding!”

I shook my head and looked at the floor. “So I called it off and kicked him out.”

“That’s why you were out?”

“Yep.”

“I had no idea. Is there anything I can do?” she asked. If only there were.

“Make him not a heartless bastard,” I said, crossing my arms and wishing she really could. Katie frowned and remained speechless. “I don’t know if I made the right decision. I help people patch up broken relationships all the time, and I threw him out. I do love him, but he hurt me so badly. How can I trust that he won’t hurt me again?”

“I don’t know,” she said and sat in the chair next to mine. “Trust is a fragile thing. When it’s been damaged it’s hard to put it back together the way it was before. It’s a lot of work, you know that.” I nodded and she continued, “The question is—is it worth it to you?”

“At first I didn’t think it was and that’s why I let him go. But I’m not so sure anymore. Did I make a mistake?”

Katie put her hand on mine and looked me in the eye. “You already know the answer to that.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“You know.”

What I knew was she had just pulled some shrink trick on me. I had done it many times before. The truth was she didn’t know the answer, but apparently I did. Only I didn’t! Or, one part of me wasn’t letting the other part in on the secret. In any case, all that was left was to mull over whether or not I thought it was worth it to work it out with Chad.

For the rest of the day I sat through appointment after appointment, partially participating, but mostly absentminded. Just before I shut down my computer for the day, Andy appeared in my office. He had a habit of walking into my office unannounced to unload his cynical bullshit. What is it this time Andy, a smug comment? Unsolicited advice?

“How are you doing?” Andy asked.

“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Sorry to hear about what happened,” he said. “It’s not an easy thing.” It was strange, his genuine tone. I mean, I couldn’t ever remember him being so nice to me.

“What do you know about what happened?”

“Katie told me you called off your wedding. She didn’t say why.”

He didn’t know the circumstances of my newly ended engagement, but I was curious about the conclusions he had come up with. I wasn’t in the mood for a discussion, so I gave him a solemn look, hoping it would deter him from inquiring.

“Stand up,” he said.

I hesitated, but he urged me to stand. When I did, he wrapped his arms around me. A hug? It was a first. I definitely couldn’t remember compassion from Andy, but he was offering it. I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but it felt good to be in the arms of a man, even if that man was Andy. The scent of his cologne reminded me of Chad. Tears surfaced, so I pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I wiped my wet cheeks.

“Sorry for what? Crying about your ended engagement?” I gave him a half-smile, unable to compose myself. “You’re gonna be fine, Marin. I’m here if you need to talk.”

That was it. No discussion, no bullshit, just genuine kindness.

On the walk home that evening, I analyzed my situation and my feelings about Chad for what seemed like the millionth time. There were no clear answers, so I decided to try another exercise from the
Daily Meditations
book.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, candles lit, soft music playing, and a glass of vino by my side, trying to listen to my “inner voice.” After forty-five minutes of nothing, I gave up. The only thing my inner voice said was how ridiculous the exercises were. I pushed the book across the room. “This is so stupid!”

I stomped over to the kitchen with my glass of wine and slammed it on the counter. My skin was hot and itchy. I did the only thing I knew to do in a moment like that. I had a hissy fit. I mean I did some weird, frustrated dance by moving my legs in a flash dance fashion and whaling my arms around and whining like a spoiled four-year-old. I was possessed by a violent urge to hit something or throw something. I had lost control, control over my feelings, control over the situation with Chad, and control over what to do next.

It was still daylight, and my inner voice told me to run. I grabbed my shoes and my iPod and headed out the door. With each step, my mind began to clear. I still didn’t know the best thing to do about Chad, but I was determined to let it go for the night and deal with it later. That is, after I returned that stupid
Daily Meditations
book to the bookstore.

I took
Daily Meditations for a Broken Heart
and its gift receipt to the bookstore during lunch. It was one of those popular bookstore chains with a coffee shop in the center. I waited in line as students and stay-at-home moms lined up to purchase new books. While I waited, I looked through an endless display of bookmarks and stumbled upon one that read
Where to Look When
with different verses from the Bible. When I made it to the counter, I handed the young cashier my book and receipt.

“I’d like to return this please,” I said.

He studied the book, then looked back at me. “I’m sorry, but this book appears to have been read. It’s no longer returnable.” He handed the book back.

“What! I’ve had this book less than a week.” I pushed the book back across the counter.

“I’m sorry, but the jacket is creased and so are some of the pages. I can’t take it back.” He pushed the book back again, this time with attitude. Despite my better judgment, I wasn’t giving up. I didn’t care about getting Holly’s money back or getting rid of the book, I wanted to make a statement;
this book sucks
.

“I want to speak to the manager,” I said, and put my hand on my hip. He glared back at me for a moment, his lips puckered and brow furrowed. I raised my eyebrows and motioned him to run along to get his boss. He left without a word. I peered through the piles of discount books at the front of the store.
I bet Daily Meditations is in the mound,
I thought as I sifted through them to see if any caught my attention. There it was again, the same bookmark I had seen earlier.
Where to Look When.
Maybe it was some kind of sign to pay attention to, or a sign the store had overstocked the bookmark. I looked over the bookmark again before noticing the words
Secret
and
Men
among the book rubble. I moved the books to reveal the full cover,
Unspoken: The Secret Lives of Men
by John Suomynona. The cover was designed like a top secret FBI file. I picked it up and turned it over to read the jacket description.