Back to Reality (4 page)

When I woke up, the August sun was beating into the bedroom. 
Groaning, I pulled the pillow over my face briefly.  Fatigue and sadness were the ultimate sleeping pill as I glanced at the time. 
Almost 2pm?! Great, I’ve done nothing but cry all morning. I need to get it together,
I sighed.  Pulling myself out of bed, I rushed to the ensuite bathroom to start my day. 

Thirty minutes
later, I was finally ready to leave my plush bedroom. The white room with white walls and grey and white carpeting served one purpose—to be my clean slate.  My bedroom needed to be a safe haven since I spent most of my time in my king sized bed. 
Today is different though. Today I will venture out…into the living room,
I thought sullenly.

I
purchased two new movies and had three new books downloaded for a weekend in.  Walking into my living room, my slippers slid across the polished hardwood floor.  A large flat screen TV was mounted above the fireplace. My couch, love seat and two oversized chairs were arranged around the room.  The heather grey of the fabric contrasted nicely with the navy blue throw pillows and area rug that sat below the coffee table.  I grabbed the movies from the coffee table and decided on the action movie and put it in the DVD player.  Hitting pause, I tossed the remote onto the couch and moved to the kitchen.  Although the plan was to lounge around all day in my Victoria’s Secret satin and lace camisole and short set, I needed to eat first.  After the emotional rollercoaster I’d subjected myself to, I needed comfort food.

My kitchen
was a work of art and besides the doorman and security desk, it was the deciding factor in selecting One38 as my new home.  The white granite countertops contrasted nicely with the black appliances.  Even though I had lived in the luxury apartment for the last seven weeks, it still looked like a model apartment.  Everything in the luxury apartment was sleek and clean.  As I looked around the kitchen into the living and dining room areas, I realized I took the minimalist approach to design this time around. 
Can’t ever get too comfortable,
I reminded myself as I reflected on my kneejerk reaction to flee.

As
the pasta boiled, I took a moment to hook up my iPod to the wireless speakers. Hitting play, I turned to the freezer to pull out garlic bread.  Quickly getting the bread into the oven and pouring myself a glass of wine, I leaned against the counter and reread Emily’s text message.  Even though I tried, I couldn’t shake the fact that I was planning on missing another milestone in Emily’s life because of my inability to cope.  Or the fact that I had Emily covering my tracks by lying to Emanuel.  Or that I walked away from Emanuel…again.  Or that I was the reason Ty was in an accident.  Or that I left Ty while he was still in the hospital. Swallowing a gulp of the sweet liquid, I just barely managed to swallow the lump that formed in my throat. 

When the song switched and
‘Trouble’ played through the apartment, the haunting lyrics hit a little too close to home.  Putting the glass down, I rubbed my face slowly.
I don’t try to hurt the people I love but I keep doing it. I don’t mean to cause trouble but when I think I’m making things better, I always end up making things worse.  I keep doing this. Things have to change. I have to change. And I have to make things right. I can’t keep doing this to the people I love most in this world. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I need to make things right. As soon as possible,
I thought decisively.

Drowning the last of my wine, I sent Emily a text message.

Sahara Lee: I’ll be there.

Chapter 5
 

“Good evening, Sahara! How are you?” Dr. Ann Summers said as she opened the front door to the building.  She wore a plum colored wrap dress with green polka dots.  Her hair was pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head, showcasing her long dangling earrings.  She looked so youthful, yet her grey hair gave her a certain distinguished quality. 
How old is she?
I wondered.

             
“Hi, Dr. Summers. I’m well. How are you?” I responded politely as I slipped passed her into the empty waiting room.

“I’m fantastic
. This week has flown by,” she exclaimed, closing the door behind me.  “That is a lovely suit you have on. When I was your age, I wore white all summer long.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a smile. 
She said ‘when I was your age’ so I’m going to guess mid-forties…but her skin looks like she’s in her thirties and her hair looks like she’s in her fifties,
I thought as I followed her to her office. 
I just don’t know,
I mused silently as I switched my black leather Michael Kors handbag to my other arm and entered the cinnamon scented office.

“Have a seat,” Dr. Summers directed, handing me a bottle of water.  I took it and sat down in one of the brown chairs.  I smoothed the imaginary wrinkles out of my white Burberry London
capri slacks and buttoned the matching white short sleeved jacket before taking a seat.  With my legs crossed, the toe of my black Michael Kors pump tapped the leg of the chair rapidly and repeatedly.  Bracing myself for another emotional session, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And then another.

“How are you feeling Sahara?” Dr. Summers asked
as I heard her get comfortable in the chair across from where I was seated. 

“I’m fine,” I said quietly. When I o
pened my eyes, I saw her glancing at my foot.  I stopped mid tap.  Clearing my throat, I repeated, “I’m fine.” Straightening in my seat, I struggled to produce a smile.

“Would you like to pick up where we left off last Friday or would you like to talk about something new? It’s up to you. I’m sensing there’s something on your mind.”

“Yes. There is. Um, I made a decision over the weekend and I’m having…reservations,” I admitted as I rubbed my hand up and down my arm.  I wasn’t cold, but I was shaking.

“What decision did you make?” Dr. Summers inquired, leaning forward in her seat slightly. 

“I decided to confront my past and stop running from it,” I said slowly.

Dr. Summers nodded and gave me a warm smile. 
A moment passed and she didn’t say anything, so I continued. “I’m going to Richland this weekend.  And I’m going to Thomasville next weekend.  I have unfinished business and I need to take care of it.”

“
Not running away from your past sounds positive,” Dr. Summers started. “But before I can really help you with your dilemma, can you tell me a little about your past so that I can understand why you may have reservations?”

The tears started up before I c
ould even open my mouth to respond.  Shutting my eyes tightly, I tried to stop the onslaught of tears that rushed to escape.  Unconsciously, I must have started tapping my shoe against the leg of the chair again, because the silence in the room was only cut by the steady beat. Noisily, I sucked in a deep breath and held it. 
1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
I counted to myself as I focused on calming down. I opened my eyes and Dr. Summers was jotting something down on a small notepad that she kept on a small accent table near her chair. 

             
“I have anxiety,” I immediately explained.

             
“Are you taking anything for it?”

             
“No… I haven’t seen a therapist in years.”  I wiped my eyes, careful not to smudge the makeup I applied.

             
“Ok,” Dr. Summers said as she wrote down another note. Putting the pen and pad down, she looked at me compassionately. “I want you to tell me about your past. Specifically, what memory triggered that reaction from you?”

             
“I have a lot of apologizing to do.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes.  I’ve hurt people that I loved,” I choked out my reasons.  “Ty was so good to me. He was incredible to me.  He was in an accident and I never saw him again,” I cried.  I gave up wiping away the tears because they continued to come faster and harder the more I talked.

             
“Ty sounds like a wonderful person to have in your life,” Dr. Summers seemed to choose her words carefully.

             
“He was,” I assured her with one definitive nod.  I put my head in my hands and told her about our whirlwind romance.  I told her of our chance meeting at the gym, the first night together at Jimmy’s, our first date, our living arrangement, our immediate connection, and New York.

             
“It sounds as if you care for him very much.”

“I do. I’ll always love Ty. He gave me much more than I deserved.  He gave me strength to do things I never thought I’d be able to do. And I never got the chance to repay him for that,” I sniffled.  Taking the tissue that was offered to me, I wiped my face. 

“You are speaking about Ty in the past tense… did something happen to him?” Dr. Summers implored kindly.  Her tanned hands were clasped in her lap as she inspected me.

I nodded. “I hurt him and
then he was in a bad accident,” I stammered over my words. A chill coursed through my body as I said the words aloud.

“Sahara, can you elaborate on what happe
ned?”

I nodded, but fell silent. I needed to get myself together before I could speak.

“Did you cause the accident?” Dr. Summers asked after the silence filled the room. 

“Yes,” I whispered
in a trembling breath. 

“What happened?”
Although her voice was light and calm, I could tell Dr. Summers was troubled by my admission.

“
I did what I always do—I ruined him. I ruined his life.”

“Tell me about the accident,” Dr. Summ
ers commanded in a tone that pulled me from the teary abyss I was slowly sinking into. 

“It goes back further than the accident,” I cried. Taking a few deep breaths and a sip of water, I told her an abbreviated version of my relationship with Ty.
I confessed all of the major events that happened with Tyree between the day I met him and when he left me alone in his hotel room in Thomasville.

“So he was under the impression that you cheated on him with Emanuel?” Dr. Summers asked as she pieced the story together.

I nodded in response.  My manicured nails dug into the palms of my hands to stop the shaking.

“But I didn’t cheat on him.  I mean, maybe I did. Emotionally. But I didn’t have sex with him.  I needed him to know that. But then everything got so messed up.  He wouldn’t take my calls or open the door for me when I came over.  So I wrote him a letter and then I went to his restaurant and professed my love.  We were supposed to continue the conversation when
he got back to Libby Lofts…” The lump in my throat was back and my next words came out raspy. “But he never made it back to Libby Lofts.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

How do you think it made me feel?
I wondered incredulously as I shook my head.  “I was the reason he left work at that time.  I was the reason. So I feel guilty and sad and heartbroken,” I sputtered.

“Do you feel responsible for the accident or responsible for the demise of the relationship?”

I paused. “Well, both. I was the reason he was on the road at that time.  I was the reason he was rushing.  I may not have been in one of the cars involved in the pile up, but I am responsible for putting him on the road at that time, for convincing him to leave work early to talk to me. I am responsible. And as far as the relationship goes, I’m the reason there was anything for us to even need to work out, work through, and talk about.  And to top it off, I didn’t even get a chance to apologize. I just left…while he was in the hospital.”

“You left while he was in the hospital. Can you elaborate on that please?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say about it,” I declared as I ran my hands down the sides of my damp face.  “I already told you, I left him in the hospital. He was fighting for his life and I showed up at the hospital with Emanuel. Tyree was in the hospital because of me and I showed up with the man he thought I cheated on him with to begin with.  I did this to myself. I did this to him. I did this to both of them.”

I let out a wavering breath before I continued, “Ty
ree’s best friend told him that I was there with Emanuel and my calls, texts, flowers, cards went unanswered.  I was told he was out of the woods, but I couldn’t get a full update on his health and wellness.  The day I left, I was told he would be out of the hospital soon.  The weight of what I’d done.  The weight of how much I hurt the people I love.  The weight of the choices I didn’t want to make. The weight of it all was too much for me to take so I just…ran.”

“I noticed that a point of contention in your relationship with Tyree was Emanuel. Tell me more about Emanuel.”  Dr. Summers stroked her
jawline with her pen before she jotted down a brief note.

Taking another deep breath, I quickly summarized the span of my relationship with Emanuel, highlighting that fateful week in June. “So I mean, from the time I could formulate memories, Emanuel was there. He’s always been a constant in my life.  Always.  But I ran from him too. Twice. And besides, he was engaged and I chose Ty so we could never be anything more than what we already were to one another,” I concluded.

“It sounds like you are struggling with your feelings for both men.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to. 
Acknowledging that I have feelings for them both will automatically prompt her to ask me to choose.  And it’s an impossible choice. I don’t want to have to make it. At least not right at this moment,
I thought stubbornly.

“To use your
words, you ran from both men. They were both in the hospital at the time so you were at an advantage.  And your second time running away from Emanuel, he was under the impression you were working things out with Tyree. So again, you had a head start. Is this correct?” Dr. Summers’ tone was gentle although her assessment was not.

“
Yes,” I replied quietly. I looked toward the lit candle and stared at the flame. Hearing her summary made my stomach drop.
They could’ve died because of me,
I wanted to scream at her.
They could’ve died and it would’ve been all my fault! I ran because they are better off without me.

“
How does running make you feel Sahara?”

“
Cowardly. And Sad. And Guilty.” My voice was barely above a whisper and I dropped my gaze to my lap.  “It makes me feel like I’m not strong enough to cope. But I want to be. That’s why I agreed to go to therapy. That’s why I need to go to Richland. That’s why I need to go to Thomasville. I need to apologize. I need to make amends.  The thing you said to me last Friday stuck with me: hurt people hurt people.  I will never stop feeling like this if I’m always hurting others and then running. I can’t keep running from the past.”

As I spoke, my voice gained strength even though my eyes filled with tears.  I blinked rapidly as I looked up at Dr. Summers.

She responded, “I’m glad it resonated with you, Sahara. And I think it is very brave to own up to your mistakes and make amends.  But I want to make sure you are ready and I want you to be sure that you are ready. With every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  And I don’t want you doing anything rash or premature if you haven’t fully considered the potential outcome.  We have a few minutes before the session is over.  Tell me your plan for this weekend.”  With kind eyes etched with worry, Dr. Summers leaned back in her chair in a more relaxed pose. Her pen and pad were placed on the small end table and I had her undivided attention.

“
Well, my flight leaves tomorrow at noon and then I’ll give him the apology he deserves.”

“
Do you believe going back to where you used to live and apologizing is going to rid you of your guilt?” Her tone was serious, but it didn’t hold any judgment.  She seemed to genuinely want to know. But the silence made me nervous.

“
It’s a start,” I stated with determination. Dr. Summers and I stared at each other for a minute. My breathing was steady, but my heart pounded in my chest. 
Even if she doesn’t think it’s a good idea, I’m still going to do it. I know in my heart, in my gut, that it’s the right thing to do. I have to go to back to Richland and Thomasville. I have to. I have to do this,
I thought as I silently sought the approval of the woman who stared back at me.

A smile played on the lips of Dr. Summers as she nodded. Her voice conveyed approval as she said, “Very well.”  She stood up and
grabbed her iPad off of her desk.  I followed her lead, grabbing my handbag. We walked out of her office and I followed the older woman to the waiting room.