NATASHA
“You don’t seem to understand me, Doc. I want to get better, I do,” I say.
He looks at me with a knowing smile on his thin lips. “Tasha, it’s been nearly an entire year of me seeing you once a week. And still, you refuse to let me in completely. I cannot help you if you don’t. Should I find another psychiatrist for you?”
“I don’t want to start from ground zero with anyone new. I’ve already lost so much. I can’t stand to be around people. I can’t stand to be alone but I am always alone. Nothing makes me happy. No one makes me happy. I can’t start over, Doc. I just need your help to break through this barrier inside of myself. I’ve pushed everyone away. Help me,” I plead with the man.
“It’s there, within you, Tasha. You say constantly that you forgive your father for what he did to you.”
I stop him. “Because I do.”
“You don’t,” he says, simply. “How could you? He took your world away from you. You had to go into rehab for six months to let your body recuperate from the addiction it had to those sedatives. You lost the man you love because you were drinking heavily to take the place of the sedatives. That is one person’s fault. And it’s not yours. So, blame who is responsible instead of holding it all in and lying to yourself about forgiveness you do not have for the one who caused all of that.”
“It does no good to blame others for your own problems,” I say. “I’ve been told that all of my life.”
“By the man who did this to you, Tasha. Come to grips with it. Your father changed you and your life. You were able to blame James Hawthorne for his part in your emotional upheaval. You accepted the settlement that made you a wealthy woman. You testified against him in court and faced your demon head one where that man is concerned. Now it’s time to face your father and let him know he hurt you and you want an apology. You want retribution for what he did to you. You got it from Hawthorne, now get it from your father.”
“I can’t do that,” I tell him for the hundredth or so time. He wants me to do a thing that’s impossible.
“Until you do, then you will continue to stay stagnant. Not growing, not moving on with life. You’ve managed to conquer the alcohol that controlled you. You’ve managed to live life on your own terms as you refused to allow anyone to control any of your actions. And how’s that working out for you?” he asks with a grin. “How do you like making all of your own decisions? All of your own plans without anyone’s interference? No one tells you what to do at all. How does that feel?”
I’d love nothing more than to tell the man it feels wonderful but I’d be lying and he’d know that. “It’s terrible. Yes, I can make my own plans. You know what they are, day after day? What shows to watch on television. What books to read alone when I get to bed. No one tells me a thing. No one tells me they love me. No one asks for my kisses. No one says a thing to me or tells me to do anything because I walked away.”
The tears start flowing as they always do when I remind myself that I got exactly what I told Nic I wanted. I got a life with no one dominating me. Somewhere along the way, I got it in my head that everything he said or did was some type of domination. It got so bad that when he asked me to change the channel of the show I wasn’t even watching as I was also reading a book, I threw the remote at him and had a screaming fit that he was trying to control me and I left his home that very night.
He watched me pack my things and leave his home. He never said a word. He didn’t tell me to stop. He didn’t tell me to stay. He just watched me leave. He let me leave him.
I suppose he was sick of me. Sick of my drinking. Sick of my constant quick temper when I even remotely thought he was bossing me around.
I blew it and I know it was all me who did that.
“He came in today. He had a session a few hours before yours. I always make sure to keep your appointments far apart so you two don’t run into one another here,” he tells me, making my heart ache.
“How is he?” I ask as I wipe the tears away with the tissue I always have at the ready when I come to see the psychiatrist Nic still pays for me to see.
“He’s okay. He’s sad. His life hasn’t turned out the way he wanted it to. He asks about you every time he comes. He wanted me to relay a message to you. Would you like to hear it or not? It’s up to you,” he asks me.
“No, don’t tell me anything. He’s the past. I’m not looking at the past,” I say as I set my mind. I have to move forward.
“If you never look in your past then you will never learn from it and be able to be the person you can be. I’m not asking you to forget you father by making it known you find him responsible for what happened to you. I am telling you when you admit that to yourself and tell him what you think then you will feel a weight lift off your shoulders. Only then will you be able to deal with life on terms you can live with.”
“So, tell my father and myself he’s the reason my life went to hell in a handbasket?” I nod. “I can try, right?”
“That’s all you can do, is try,” he tells me and puts his pad of paper and pen away. “Session is over for this week. See you next week.”
I nod and give my eyes a final wipe then get up and leave his office. Taking a deep breath, I walk to the elevator and get in it. It’s full of people and I always find myself having trouble breathing in the crowds.
New York has crowds everywhere you go and I should really move. But my work is easier here. I work from home as a consultant. I finished my degree online. I do freelance consulting from home. Occasionally, I do have to meet people and it’s easier to meet in this big city than anywhere else.
With the money from the settlement from James’ family, I don’t have to work at all. But it gives me something to do besides hide in a book or movie to forget about my real life.
As I step out of the elevator, I hear a familiar voice. “I think I left my sunglasses up there. Can you call up and ask him?”
I freeze in place as I know it’s Nic. It’s been months since I’ve set eyes on him. Looking straight down at the floor, I make my way to the door. Each step gets me that much closer to not having the agony fill me that surely will if I see him. Then a chill rips through my body as a hand touches the small of my back. “Natasha, hello.”
My chest fills with sobs that beg to be released. My heart pounds with joy as my body has begged for me to go back to the man it loves. It’s my mind that refuses to believe it. It’s my mind that holds me back.
I can’t speak as he ushers me out the door with him. Through cloudy, tear-filled eyes, I see the shadow of a black car and he has me in the back seat before I know what’s happening.
His arms go around me and I let it all out in the privacy of the car. I cry and moan as my hands run up his arms, over his biceps where they loved to rest when he held his body over mine.
His hands stroke my back as he shushes me. “It’s okay, princess.”
It’s anything but okay and he knows that. He knows it as well as I do. I am a shell of who I was and neither of us can stand who I’ve become. I press my hands to his chest. “Don’t. This just makes things harder, Nic. Let me out of the car.”
“I’m not about to set you out on the sidewalk with tears streaming down your face,” he says as he continues to hold me tight.
I break down again as it’s so damn good to hear him boss me around. Telling me how he’s going to take care of me even when I’m trying to make self-sabotaging choices for myself.
Running my arms around him, I hold him too. “I love you,” I say in a whisper.
“I know you do,” he says then kisses the top of my head. “I love you too.”
Suddenly it becomes clear what I have to do. I have to get better. I have to follow the doctor’s orders and I have to confront my father. This is ridiculous what I’m doing to us both. “Can you take me to see my father? I have something I need to tell him.”
“Is he here, in New York?” he asks as he pushes me back so he can look at me.
I nod and already hate myself for feeling the need to curl back into his wide chest and pull from his body what only it can give me. Peace, hope, and the feeling of absolute safety.
“Right now or later?” he asks.
“I think now is best.” I hand him my phone. “Can you call him and see if he’s available for me?”
He takes it and finds my father’s number. “Hi, Greenwell. This is Nicholai Grimm. I have Natasha with me and she wants to talk to you. I don’t suppose you can make yourself available to her soon, can you?”
I hear my father say on the other end of the line, “I’m at my friend’s place. Let me see about meeting her for lunch.”
With a shake of my head, I say, “I can’t do it in public.”
“How about you come to my place. She’d like to talk with you in private,” Nic tells him.
“Text me the address and I’ll be there shortly,” Dad says. “Why are you calling me from her phone? Why can’t she do it?”
“Because she asked me to do it and I always do anything she asks of me. See you soon,” Nic says then hands me my phone back. “Did you get my message I told the doctor to give you?”
“I told him not to tell me.”
“Why?” he asks as he lifts my chin.
“Because it hurts too much to think about you,” I say then bite my lip.
“Maybe that’s because you love me and want to be with me but that stubborn brain of yours is getting in our way.” He smiles to lessen the blow.
“I know it is. I can see that now. I mean, I knew it was, but now I can really see it. I need to resolve things with my father. I’ve been hiding that inside of me. Hiding the fact he was the one who did this to me. Even James wouldn’t have been able to get to me if I hadn’t been in that weakened condition.”
He nods, letting me know this is my decision and he will leave me to it. It’s not his usual way. He’s often told me I needed to fight with whoever I had an issue with instead of him. I took out too much on Nic. I can see it now, in hindsight.
I just hope talking to my father works the way the doc said it would. I can’t take life this way any longer. Something has to change!