I would be lying if I didn’t admit to myself why I was walking past Thirty-Fifth Street. Sometimes I find myself walking past his street when I want to feel close to him, when I want to remember the lessons I learned when seeing him. Today, I need his strength. Today marks three months since I’ve seen him and I need to find the strength to get out of my funk and make a change. Every day since I got the referrals from Preston, I have stared at the names, but I haven’t found the strength to call them. I know I have to, but I put it off. Sydney thinks I’m holding off for some crazy notion that Preston will charge in and demand I change my mind. I know he won’t. He can’t. Deep down, he knows this is right.

Today I walk down Park, and as usual I peer down the street. That’s when I see him. He’s across the street. Preston. The man I can’t get out of my head, and worse, the one I can’t get out of my heart. I squint my eyes to get a better look. He’s perched on the stoop. His head is bowed and fine lines paint his forehead.

When he finally lifts his head, the look in his eyes haunts me. They speak of a deep-rooted pain that I could never imagine. I put that pain there, and I would do anything in my power to take it away, but it wouldn’t be fair to go to him now. Not when I’m still so screwed up and when we still can’t be together. No. Today isn’t the right time. But hopefully it soon will be, and I know what I have to do.

Lifting my hand, my fingers find the necklace he gave me and I stroke it gently. It’s time I stop hiding. It’s time I face my nightmares and learn to forgive. Today is the day I make the change.

I turn on my heel before he catches me looking and walk in the other direction, leaving a part of me on that corner with him, but vowing to find all the other pieces and put myself back together.

I scan the intersection from right to left. There are a few choices I can make. Home to pretend my life isn’t happening and continue to hide in my bed, or send Sydney a text and finally start living again. Seeing Preston makes my heart hurt, but I also know he wouldn’t want me to be sad. So I pick up my phone and send a message to Sydney.

Me: Bar?

Sydney: Hell yes.

Me: Ten minutes?

Sydney: DONE!

The Corner Bar is packed as usual. From across the room, I see Sydney waving at me. My mouth spreads into a large smile. For the first time in a long time, I feel as if I might be okay.

“What up, chica!” Sydney throws her arms around my neck and starts bouncing up and down “I’ve missed you.”

“Syd, you do know we live together right? You see me every day. How can you miss me?”

“Eve.” Her eyes narrow. “You have been in a funk for weeks. I wouldn’t call that living anywhere.”

“You’re right. But I’m back now.”

“Well, you know what that means?”

“Tequila shots?” I flash her a megawatt smile and she starts to laugh.

“A girl after my own heart.” Sydney turns to Austin. “Two shots of Patron, extra chilled,” she exclaims.

He comes back and places the two chilled shots in front of us.

“Celebrating something?” he winks.

“No,” I say as Sydney says yes. I turn my attention back and quirk an eyebrow.

“We are?”

“Yep.”

“And what, pray tell, are we celebrating?”

“You, of course,” she replies.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s good to have you back.” She smiles and I grab the shot and take a swig.

“It’s good to be back.” I nod. It is. And tomorrow, first thing, I’ll call the names on the list.

“What are you smiling about?” Sydney asks.

“Nothing. Just happy, I guess.” And for the first time in a long time, I do feel happy. I feel hope. Because I know what I need to do and I’m going to do it. I’m going to stop running from my past. I’ll confront my fears and figure out me, and that is worth celebrating.

* * *

Once again I stand at the precipice of change, but this time instead of walking into Preston’s office, I find myself in a small room, waiting to see my new therapist. Her name is Dr. Beckett, and from the look of things, she will be nothing like Dr. Montgomery. Where he was upscale, this space is homey. Comfy couches line the walls of what seems to be an old parlor of a brownstone in the west village. It’s quaint and feels like home.

With everything I’ve been through, I welcome it. Dr. Beckett wasn’t on the list Preston gave me. I needed a clean break. So I asked around the office, only this time I didn’t hide that I’m having a hard time coping with Richard’s death and some other things in my life. Surprisingly, everyone was supportive. And now that they knew my mom had no interest in taking control, they reach out more and more. It isn’t only Sydney and myself for lunch anymore. Now Natalie comes along, and Barry too. After apologizing for harassing me, he really isn’t that bad.

Today begins the next step in my journey. I’m not sure how this new story will end, but I hope eventually it leads me back to Preston. All I can do is take a deep breath and vow to conquer my fears and learn to forgive.

The door creaks open and out walks a taller middle-aged woman.

“Hello, Eve. I’m Dr. Beckett.”

“Hi,” I say as I stand and extend my hand.

“Are you ready?” She smiles and I nod.

I am. I finally am.

* * *

As my sessions with Dr. Beckett come and go, the weather turns from sweltering to brisk days. Orange and red bleed from the leaves and the air is crisp with fall fragrances. The weeks have turned into months. We talk about everything. Well, everything except Preston Montgomery. He’s one topic I won’t breach. I keep our time together tucked firmly in my own heart and memory.

Right now the focus is on me. I’m working on forgiving Mom and Richard for lying to me. Richard’s omission of the truth has been easier for me to move past. He was in an unimaginable situation and made the only choice he thought he could. It’s taken me a long time to forgive Mom, and an even longer time to forgive my dad.

Day by day and week by week, I get closer to forgiveness. Like Preston said, I’d never understand the pressure he was under. But little by little I move past the anger and open my heart to love.

Today is a day to move forward.

“Mom, are you decent? Are you dressed?” I say as I knock on the door.

“Yes.”

“I have someone here to talk to us. Can we come in?”

“Um,” she mumbles through the door. I crack it open a little. “I’m a little dizzy.”

“I know, Mom, but it will be fast. She just wants to talk to you. We want to talk to you together. Dr. Beckett thinks it will be good for us. I think so too. We can no longer let our future be dictated by our fear of the past. We need to move forward.”

“Okay,” she croaks out.

Dr. Beckett and I walk through the door and into the room. Mom is sitting on the bed. I had called previously and warned her that she should be dressed today. I’m happy to see she is in lounge pants and T-shirt. She’s even wearing a light dusting of makeup. She’s trying, and that thought makes tears fill my eyes.

We sit in the chairs situated along the window inside her room. She stays where she is. Dr. Beckett begins, and then we let my mom talk. For the first time in as long as I can remember, she tells me what it was like to be married to Dad. I sit with welled eyes as she relates stories she never shared before. Tears pour down my face at the idea that they were once in love. That my mom was once more then she is. It’s almost too much to take in, but as I do, something strange happens. I find myself laughing, smiling and forgiving.

When Dr. Becket asks me if I have anything to say, I do.

“Mom, it’s time you forgive yourself. It wasn’t your fault. Every year that passes, a bigger part of you dies. Your guilt has eaten away at you. It has to stop. Every day that we have is a gift. You need to keep living for Dad. You need to live for yourself. And for me. I need you to be my mother. I need to know you’re there.” She nods and we sit in silence. Eventually, I take her hand in mine and ask her softly if she can tell me how she met my father and she does. 

The stories encompass topics of all types, from hobbies they had to all the places they traveled. After the moisture on my face evaporates, it makes me happy to think of a better time. Hearing her stories reminds me a little of Preston. He’s the reason this is happening right now. He was the catalyst for me doing this. In order to go to him in the future, I need to heal my past. This is the first step—my mom and I forgiving ourselves. This won’t be an overnight success. It’ll take time before she can talk again about what happened that night. But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to wait.