Chapter Twenty-One

Teala

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. I tap my big toe on each book on the shelf as I alternate my truths. If I land on a book spine that contains green, I’ll call him. He loves me. He loves me not. Red. Sighing, I roll onto my stomach and prop my chin on my hands. Mom isn’t letting me leave the apartment. I don’t want to anyways. It’s so scary outside these days. My friends come over and it’s easy to pretend I’m normal when they’re here. When I’m by myself everything falls apart.

Something shiny catches my eye. I hop up and walk toward the sparkle against the dark wooden floor. It’s a tiny piece of glass the sun is catching just right. After I put it in the trash I return to the floor in front of my bookshelf. I chose a book with a pink, worn out spine. It’s my favorite novel. I thumb through the pages and stop on a page about halfway through and read a few random sentences. Tears prick my eyes. I throw the book across the room. The kitchen is tidy. Mom must have cleaned all morning long. Everything in the world is starting to return to normal. Trash pickup resumed and the grocers have produce again. The malls and shops are still closed, but will open soon. I can’t even think about opening the studio again.

I tried to teach a few classes in my living room, but it didn’t feel right and I couldn’t focus to save my life. I can’t focus on anything, actually. Water. I need a drink. Opening my fridge, I grab a water bottle and drain it completely. Zero calories. I don’t have to worry about burning zero calories. I drink another one as fast as I can and throw the plastic bottles in the recycling bin. I slide the button on my tablet to bring it to life and check my email. Nothing new since I checked ten minutes ago. On autopilot, I go to my favorite workout gear online shop to read the message about being closed for the time being. No new pants or tanks to look at still.

I meander down the hallway and work my way into my closet. I sort through the clothing and organize it first by color then by shape. I run my hands over the soft fabrics and try to envision wearing them once again. It’s impossible and it frustrates me beyond belief. When my shoes are lined up on their shelves, dusted and loved, I sit in the middle of my bed. Macs’ T-shirt is folded under my pillow. It doesn’t smell like him anymore, but I still remember what he looked like when he wore it. It hugs his muscles in the right places and stretches across his broad chest enough to let any woman know what he’s packing underneath.

I run it in between my fingers and get angry. Whenever I think of him it ends in anger. Every time. He left me. I drove him away, sure, but he didn’t even fight for us. He told my mom I’d be happier without him. He didn’t want to cause me any more trauma by going on work trips. After I’m finished being angry at him, I get furious with myself for being so stupid. For giving my father permission to destroy me. Again. That man really is an asshole. My psychiatrist comes over twice a week and my meds are regulated so that I feel like a normal person most days. Feeling normal only proves to show me exactly how much I lost while I wasn’t normal.

It’s a twisted game of guess what your reality is now! I did go out last week because one of our friends opened her salon for the first time since the attacks. I met Carina there. My hair doesn’t look like Edward Scissorhands got ahold of my head. It’s shorter than I’d ever want it, but I know it will grow back and honestly, in the grand scheme of things, what the fuck does hair mean anyways? Nothing. It sits on your head. You can put products in it or leave it be. It grows. You cut it. Rinse. Repeat. Short hair is easy. I don’t have to brush it. It exists all by itself. Like grown up hairs taking care of themselves.

I lean back on my bed and close my eyes. Did you know it’s impossible to will yourself to sleep? You can’t do it. I can’t take the drugs they give me to fall asleep because I don’t like the way they make me feel. I greet the dark every night with open arms and hope it will pull me under briefly. It rarely does. When I open my eyes in the morning I’m more exhausted than when I went to bed. If I sleep, the nightmares come. They’re vivid and life-altering. I can’t chance it, so I catnap during the day and play dark roulette at night.

I glance at my clock and realize it’s almost time for my doctor’s appointment. He’ll come in using the key my mom gave him. He’ll move the stool from the bar to the center of the living room and sit down like a man on a throne. I’ll perch on the couch, or lie down with my head on the nice blanket and I’ll spill my guts. All of them. My abs get sore from talking so much. It’s my cardio for the week. The one subject that is quite off-limits is Macs Newstead. I don’t go into any depths about my feelings for him, and the doctor knows not to broach it. He warned me we will have to talk about him eventually, but there’s so much baggage with my father, I doubt I’ll be alive by the time we make it to Macs.

I hear the door open and close, so I wait in my bedroom. When I’m sure he’s set up in the way he always is, I enter, plastering a huge grin on my face. Absentmindedly I run my hand through the ponytail that doesn’t exist. “Dr. Rhodes. How are you?” I ask, beaming. I offer him water, which he denies, like always, and gestures to the couch in front of me.

I don’t even want to know how much these in call sessions are costing me. Luckily I was savvy with my money. Responsible.

“How are you feeling today, Teala?”

I tell him I’m fine.

“Doing some reading today to pass the time?” Dr. Rhodes nods to the book on the floor—the beautiful people on the cover peeking up at me, like they’re ratting me out.

I shrug, leaning back on the couch. “It made me upset. It’s my favorite book.”

“I see. Why did it make you upset?”

I’m disappointed he went for the obvious question. How dense does he think I am?

“The man left his best friend and he shouldn’t have. He knows she’s in love with him. It’s more than friend love. It’s forever love.”

He presses his lips into a firm line. It irritates me. “What does she do to let him know she loves him? Is it obvious to him?”

I sigh. “Of course it’s obvious!” Then I think about it. Maybe it’s not. “Well, maybe. I don’t know. He’s an idiot if he doesn’t know, though.”

“I see.” It took therapy for me to realize I and see are the most annoying words in the English language. “Perhaps if she was more clear about her feelings he wouldn’t have left.”

I smirk. “You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

He smiles back, in a genuine way that lets me know I’ve caught him. “They find a way back to each other,” he says. “Eventually.”

“Listen. I’m not ready to talk about Macs.” Saying his name is painful. “It doesn’t matter anyways. He doesn’t do second chances. Hell, the man doesn’t do first chances. I’m not sure how I squeaked by with that one.” By lying to myself. It was never just a game or a bet for me.

“You can’t let what you think he’ll allow dictate how you feel.”

I know exactly how I feel. Heartbroken. Scorned. Angry. “It’s a moot point. It’s the past.”

“You know as well as I do that your past is pretty important. It affects the future whether you want it to or not. So do you think you’re ready to leave the house? Begin teaching at the studio again?”

“Maybe if I could sleep.” I throw an arm over my eyes to block out some of the light. I could take five or ten minutes right here and right now.

He clears his throat to let me know a nap isn’t in the cards. “Nightmares still?”

I grunt to confirm.

“What was your last one?”

I’d like to nip this in the bud. I’ve already spoken his name. Something I’d rather not do, and I remember the last time Dr. Rhodes brought up the dreams. He asked if I would have a meeting with my father. I told him I’d rather stab myself in the eye a thousand times, but that niggling DNA thread that binds us forever won out and I met with him. Right here on this sofa. Something miraculous happened during the time spent questioning him. I understood. He gave me what I needed. Closure. I never realized something that seemed so insignificant could make me breathe such a sigh of relief. Was I magically healed? Fuck no. I’m still muddled by a cloud of confusion and suffocated by the what-ifs with Macs. The nightmares of my father leaving are gone, though.

Was my dad an idiot? Yes. So are a lot of men and women in this world who let fleeting feelings guide them to their destination instead of clinging strong to morals and promises. My life is a reflection of that, a mirroring image of what my father did without that one, very important facet. I never committed to anyone.

“Yes. Nightmares,” I confirm.

“Not taking the medication? It might be the only way you get rest, Teala. You look better. You’re putting weight back on again, but nothing can account for lack of sleep. You should try the pills again. Give them a chance to work. You may have a brand-new outlook once you wake after eight hours of sleep. The world will have a new hue.” It makes sense, but he doesn’t get it. Not fully, anyways. It’s my fault. “Tell me what’s bothering you right now.”

“I guess I’m just upset Macs didn’t check in on me after all this time has passed. It’s like I meant nothing to him. Granted, I pushed him away. Thoroughly. But he knew how much he meant to me and he didn’t try.”

“Ah, he didn’t chase. That’s not in everyone’s personalities, you know? From the little you’ve told me it doesn’t occur to me that Macs would be one to chase regardless of how he feels,” Dr. Rhodes explains.

I nod. “You’re right. I thought we had something more.”

He scribbles on his little tablet with the end of a pen. “Would it change how you felt if you knew he did care? That perhaps he was checking in on your progress from time to time?”

Sitting straight up and staring my doctor down, I say, “Did he?”

He has no tells. I’ve tried before. You know? Trigger an eye twitch or maybe a movement in his neck or mouth. Nothing. I bet he could go on a killing rampage and pass a lie detector test with flying freaking colors.

He seems hesitant to kill my hope. “I don’t know. You would find it heartening if he did, though.”

Ugh. It was just a trick to gauge my reaction. He writes something else down.

“Things with Macs were always tedious because we’re the same.”

He clears his throat. “You were both promiscuous without need for committed relationships?”

“Just call me a whore, why don’t you?” I smile. “Yes. And that we both wanted the same things to start and when it shifted, we fell in love at the same time. It was hard and all-consuming and I don’t doubt if he never left I’d be talking to him right now instead of you.” I let my gaze flick back to the book on the floor. I pick it up and sit back down. “I’m not the same.”

He nods. “You’re better every time I see you. Look at the leaps and bounds you’ve made with your father!”

I shiver.

I smooth the cover of the book in my hand. “My friend has a book signing. Carina. I’ve mentioned her before to you. It’s local. I think I’ll go to it. It’s walking distance. Down on 4th.” My poor friend is in rough shape as well. Her SEAL hauled off and broke her heart into a million pieces. She was able to have her revenge in the form of a novel. The title is Never Forever, and I’m sure it’s going to be my new favorite story.

“I think that’s a great idea. You have a clear head and a nice haircut now,” Dr. Rhodes says, nodding at me, laughing. “You should go. It will be a great outing for you. Get some fresh air. You’ll be surprised by how much has changed. Everything is different, but the things that remain the same will be comforting.”

Immediately I cover my head in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I cut my hair. Macs saw me like that, you know? He made a joke, like it didn’t even bother him. I saw it in his eyes, though. He was terrified of me.” I glance over my shoulder at the window. “He came here after being gone for a month, and I made him fuck me against that window. I was a walking disaster, and he did it anyways because I asked him to. He was scared. That big, muscled SEAL. Hah,” I say, laughing to myself, yet grimacing at the memory. I barely even remember having sex with him. My frame of mind was skewed almost completely.

“Why do you think he was so scared?”

“He told me why. He missed and loved his girlfriend and she wasn’t there. It was akin to having sex with a stranger for him. It’s pretty close to the truth to be honest, but it hurts so badly. I know you’re going to ask why, so I’ll just keep going. It hurts because I had multiple opportunities to take him in my arms and tell him I loved him. Macs was waiting. He didn’t just storm off at my first outburst. He took it all, swallowed it, and waited around for more abuse.” This memory hurts the worst.

“You haven’t spoken to him since he left?”

I shake my head. “Not even once.” I look down at the pink, worn-out novel.

“Do you think he knows how you feel now?”

I meet Dr. Rhodes’ gaze with tears in my eyes. “Of course he knows.”

He smirks and it’s smug. I swear if he says I see, I’ll knock him out. I may not have all the muscles I used to, but what I lack in biceps I make up for in pure fury. “What’s the worst possible thing that could happen if you told him how you felt? If he already knows, then it’s not new information for him. He’ll shrug it off and he’ll go about his business like he has been. If he’s not aware you’re still in love with him, well, then maybe it would sway his mind about chasing a woman. The very least you can do is apologize to him for the things you said and didn’t mean.”

It seems crazy. Implausible even. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Dr. Rhodes laughs. I smile. “I can’t call him out of the blue. I don’t even know if he’s in town. Macs is busy saving the world. Literally.”

“If he ever loved you at all, Teala, he will make time to listen to you. Perhaps you should email him? As a starter? Test out the waters. The Internet is up and active everywhere again. There’s no reason he wouldn’t receive an email.”

“Best-case scenario, he agrees to meet with me so I can tell him what an awful person I was and apologize. He’s always going to leave, Dr. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

“Leaving is in direct correlation of arriving.”

“Or coming,” I joke.

His face reddens, and he twists his short beard in between his forefinger and thumb.

“I’m joking. I’m joking,” I chide, putting my palms up.

Dr. Rhodes sighs and scribbles on his tablet. “Anything worth having is worth losing. Sometimes having someone is just as painful as losing someone because of situations like this one. You have to decide what you’re willing to accept and draw the line in the sand. If you can’t handle his career then it may be best if you don’t get in touch with him. Let sleeping dogs lie.” It’s impressive he’s able to recover from my dirty joke so quickly, but he has a sense for my personality by this point in our relationship. How easily he got me to talk about Macs. I can’t even remember how he did it.

“Have you seen any men since our last visit?” he asks, changing the subject, but not really.

I walked right into this one.

****

Carina is sitting next to me at my desk. She’s pulled up a cube that functions as a stool or a table.

“Help me make this sound better than it actually is,” I whine. My head is in my hands as I scan the words in front of me on my screen.

“I can’t believe you said those things to him. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to bring them up again in this email. Especially because the title of it is, ‘I’m sorry.’ My advice is to glaze over the finer details of what you’re apologizing for, Teala. Focus on the bigger picture and the fact that you feel bad for the things you said when you weren’t feeling yourself,” Carina says, wincing. “I mean, gosh. You are like a man. Letters and emails are the worst things in the world,” she goes on.

Smith, the SEAL who broke up with her did it by a fucking letter. Don’t get it twisted. It was more of a love letter than a breakup letter, which makes him that much more of an asshole. I don’t tell Carina that, though. She’s just getting out of her house these days, too.

Life will never be the same after the attacks. I will always watch my back or wonder if the parking garage is too full or if someone is lurking just beyond the corner, waiting to do bad things to good people. It’s a sick feeling, but with it comes a sense of responsibility. The patriotism in our country is at an all-time high. Everyone is helping each other. We’re all in the same boat. Carina endured a bomb that went off at a mall that morning. Thank God she lived and only has small scars as a reminder.

I hit the delete key and remove the nasty phrases. “I wish I were a writer like you. I bet if you wrote this he’d forgive me.”

She sighs. “Can’t you call him? I heard they’re in town still. Not for long, though. I was talking to Moose, and they’re leaving on a mission soon. I check in on Smith because I’m a glutton for punishment.”

I wrinkle my nose and pierce her with an ugly face. “You are, aren’t you? Do you know when they’re leaving?”

She shakes her head. Carina is the one who brought me his email address. She had to weasel it out of Moose, I guess. I type it into the To: line and take a few deep breaths. “I need to finish this and get down to the studio,” I tell her.

“You can do hard things, Teala Smart. He wasn’t in the right either. You’re being the bigger person by initiating the conversation.”

“You sound like my psychiatrist. Are you sure you don’t want to moonlight?” I ask. “Let me read you what I’m sending,” she says.

Macallister,

I apologize for being an awful human being. I wasn’t myself, but then again you knew that when you left and never came back to check on me. I don’t fault you for that…too much. I wish things could have been different between us. I’m better these days. I’m back at the studio, my glutes and hammies came back to say hello, I met with my father and didn’t kill him, I talk to a mysterious bearded man twice a week about my feelings, and I miss you a lot.

Not like, I miss you, but don’t come see me, either. I hope you’re well and driving the remaining female population wild with your dimples. Anyways, I’m just apologizing for everything. Blanket apologies are our thing, I suspect. Please be safe wherever your travels take you.

Love,

Teala

Carina sighs. “I like it. It’s direct and to the point. You’ve accomplished your goal. You’re sorry and he knows it.”

I wonder if he’s sorry about everything that happened.

I hit send before my nerves cause me to sling my Macbook at the window instead. Once the message is confirmed as sent, I widen my eyes in horror. “What if I want more than to apologize? Was there enough leeway in there for reconciliation? Fuck!”

“Stop worrying. If he loves you, it won’t matter what you said in there. You reached out. That’s all he’ll need.”

He doesn’t email me back.