Three Months Later

With all of the research and knowledge I have digested about science and biology, I still do not understand how human emotion factors into our makeup.

Sure, I understand studies like anthropology and sociology and psychology, that we react to certain pheromones and we have triggers in our brains that unlock anger or humor or even love.

But I still don’t grasp why we can’t just turn these off. Why we can’t listen to reason and just stop being sad or mad or even stop yearning for a certain person. Whatever the reason may be why we can’t, I wish I could solve it. I wish I could erase memories and hours of my life, go back before it hurt so much.

An errant tear breaks away, as it seems to all the time now, and I wipe it before I can start bawling again. Even after twelve weeks, you would think I’d be able to shut it all off, just move on and forget about it. But even now, as May closed in, I couldn’t seem to get over it. The crack of betrayal that oozed hurt and pain in the middle of my heart was nowhere near healed. Every night I lie awake, thinking about what he’d said over and over and over again.

Thinking about the look in his eyes when he’d thrown me aside like a stray dog, kicking me before he left me out in the proverbial rain. Or how, just days before, I’d given him the most valuable thing I’d ever have to give. And he took it, breaching my trust and making my world flip on a dime. I wasn’t the same girl I had been when we’d landed in London, and now I was even further from that girl.

“Are you crying again?” A soothing voice hits my ears, but I keep my gaze out the window.

In the garden outside, the plants and flowers are blooming, coming out of the long, lonely winter we all had. It should bring hope, but I don’t feel the cloud of gloom clear up from over my head.

Swiping at my cheeks, where tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen rolled, I nod. “I can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

“Baby girl, don’t you ever apologize for nursing your broken heart. It’s a part of life we all have to go through. You work through it in whatever way you feel is best.” Mom’s strong arms wrap around me as she sits on the arm of the plush chair I’m curled up in.

“But he doesn’t deserve it.” My voice cracks.

“They hardly ever do.” Her tone is far off, and I know she’s not thinking about Asher Frederick the way I am.

The past three months have been exceedingly hard on her. After that fateful dinner, she was appalled with Bennett. Hurt that he’d never told her about Jane, gobsmacked that she was living with someone who had broken up a family. For two days after Asher had dropped the atomic bomb, she’d stayed in a guest room in our palace residence, refusing to see Bennett until she could collect her thoughts. I didn’t want to see him either, but I was like a child caught in the middle of divorce. Those two days were like the Cold War in our house, harsh ice covered every interaction. Bennett looked haggard, like his heart had been torn out of his chest and he was slowly dying from not being able to look at my mother. He’d slept outside of her door, his bones rattling every time he got up off the hardwood.

It just so happened that some of the greatest news of my life came in those two days, the fat envelope from the University of Pennsylvania overshadowed by the drama playing out in our home. After two days, Mom emerged from the guest room and stated that she and I were going home for a college tour, and that we’d be back in a week. Bennett begged her to let him come, apologizing up and down, but she’d told him she needed this time away. He respected it, and let her go. Watching him, I knew it had taken all of the strength inside of him to let the most precious thing in his life just walk away, not knowing if she’d come back.

Throughout the flights, and the trip, the sorrow was palpable on both of our flesh. What had happened, how our hearts had broken, it wasn’t something we were going to get over anytime soon. That night would play on in my head for years to come.

I pushed the thoughts aside, though, as we’d returned home, never feeling more grateful than I was in that moment. The cobwebs of homesickness were finally shaken off my bones, and realizing that what I’d worked so hard for was finally paying off was a big sense of pride that soothed my aching soul.

On the plane back to London, Mom had turned to me.

What Asher had done to my family hadn’t taught me that though. I had learned that some people were worth fighting for, worth saving. And that others were more damned than we could ever imagine. Asher had educated me, but not in the way he’d planned. He had sought to tear apart my family, to ruin Bennett and send my mom running. But when you knew what real, genuine love felt like, that could prevail over anything.

Three months later, we were all stronger than ever in our relationships with each other. Bennett had sat down with each of us, telling us the truth of what had happened with Jane. How he’d messed up, and then tried to break it off only for her to not be able to let it go. He had cared for her, but eventually the truth of what he was doing to her son and husband made him sick. That night, she’d come over in a panic and he’d tried to stop her, but she ran out. And what Asher was so broken over happened, and no one could ever take it back.

“How was your therapy session?” I looked up into her eyes, which were clear and sure.

My mom, the rock of my life. “It was actually very good. We talked about the wedding more, and I feel like we are moving past it. Thank you, honey, for urging me to be a bigger person. You make me a better person every day, you know that? Sometimes I think you’re the adult.”

It had been easy to be honest, to encourage her to make things right with Bennett. I wanted them to get married, I wanted my mom happy. And if therapy was a good road to that, then I was all for it.

“So how are things looking for the wedding? When is your next dress fitting?” I try to move us onto a happier topic.

The wedding was only a month away, and the whole country was abuzz with excitement.

“Next weekend, and they have your dress ready too.” She clapped her hands, and I could not wait to see both of them.

The designer was basically a living legend, and our fairy tale seemed picture perfect whenever we were in his studio.

Mom talks about a few other decisions they’ve made, but my mind is trapped in its perpetual thought process, over analyzing and worrying. I’ve had an anxiety attack almost weekly, and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to go to school.

Besides my mom marrying Bennett, I can’t wait to fly to UPenn in August and leave all of this behind.

One of the only positives of this whole fiasco has been that we’ve gotten to deal with it in private. No press, no paps. I can’t imagine the shit storm that would fly if Bennett’s mistake ten years ago was made public.