“We can live together, happily ever after,” she said to a dream Carter at the end of a hotel bed. Sometimes they ate dream cookies together. In the darkness, she could believe anything.
In the cold stark light of day, not so much.
Real life wasn’t a fairy tale. Carter wasn’t a Disney prince. They were two grown-ass adults who didn’t live in the same realities.
She sat up with a start, sweat staining her sheets, her face crusty and sore. Crying in her sleep? Honestly, a new low. She reached over to her nightstand and slid the therapist’s card from the surface. “You win this round, Noah Crain.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Whatever happens in this room today, I’m not gonna be one of those people who blames everything on my mother. In fact, I’m not talking about my mother at all.”
“Okay.” Therapist Jacqueline Mei, a thoughtful woman in her fifties, regarded Perdie with the calmness of an elementary school teacher waiting for her class to stop talking. “What would you like to talk about?”
Perdie shrugged. The therapist’s office was cozy with a plush beige couch and a plethora of mismatched throw pillows. She hugged one to her chest. “I don’t know, isn’t that what I pay you for?”
Jacqueline said nothing, sitting in silence with Perdie for an entire minute. As an attorney, Perdie was familiar with this tactic. Silence compelled people to talk. It wouldn’t work on her. She was only here to make Noah happy and to help fill the hours of her day so she wouldn’t have to spend any of them thinking about Carter.
Carter.
Her new job was a boring, unfulfilling dead end. And that was good because Perdie didn’t want to care anymore. Aspirations hurt. And success was a trap. The people at the top, in her experience, were predatory dickheads. And it simply wasn’t worth it. She shouldn’t have tried to play their game in the first place.
She’d been through a lot in one year.
Her voice was creaky. “I’m here because I want to be heard.”
Jacqueline nodded. “Then I’m relieved this isn’t a Home Depot. They’re bad listeners.”
Perdie let out a laugh. Then she sobered. “I don’t think my mother loved me, and as a result I don’t think I know how to love me. Or other people...sometimes.”
Jacqueline scribbled a note on a pad. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Perdie sighed. “I guess I should since I’m not here to buy hurricane shutters.”
Jacqueline suspected Perdie was depressed. (“Uh, doi,” Perdie said. “I wore my pants backwards yesterday and didn’t even feel it. You ever put dress pants on backwards?”) She scheduled Perdie three times a week. Overkill in Perdie’s mind, but then, surprising herself, she agreed anyway.
The more she focused on other projects, the more she could banish Carter from her mind: like how she and Lucille were buying a new house. She couldn’t believe it, but it was a welcome endeavor.
Lucille brought up the topic one evening at dinner. It was out of the blue, but that was Lucille. “So, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we could use a little more space.”
Perdie pushed her mac and cheese back and forth on her plate. All food tasted like trash. “Oh?”
“What do you think about this? Lucille Knox Handcrafted Cards. Sell them at the shop and online. Charge an arm and a leg, like I do my arrangements. But we would need extra room for a studio. I know we love this place, but...we’ve outgrown it. Space-wise that is.”
Perdie had several of Lucille’s watercolor cards, all adorned with beautiful wispy bluebirds and little handwritten notes. Perdie would always gamble on Lucille’s talent.
“I’m in. I’ll find the Realtor.” Good thing she knew one.
“So, Lucille is taking on this new chapter of her life, and of course, I’ll be right there with her. But...why do I feel so stagnated? Empty?” Because she missed the hell out of Carter, and she couldn’t even feel a thing about it.
Dr. Mei nodded sagely. “Sometimes in order to feel that we’re moving forward, we have to put ourselves in uncomfortable positions. Growth comes when we exert stress on ourselves. Take risks.”
Perdie blew her hair out of her face. “But I do take risks. I risk sleeping with opposing counsel. I risk an illicit affair at work. I risk getting wasted at holiday parties.”
“It sounds like you only take risks that you’re certain won’t pay off. But do you ever take risks when it really counts?”
“What do you mean?”
“Risks where you might get hurt. Risks that really pay off. Do you take those risks or do you cut and run?”
Lucille’s words echoed from all those months ago, the first time they’d met Noah. Sometimes things are meant to be, and you have to stick with them to find out. You can’t cut and run because things aren’t perfect.
She hugged the beige pillow from the couch. “My mother wasn’t interested in anything I did. We never had money, but it was more than that. She didn’t have emotional currency either. Good behavior or bad behavior, I couldn’t get her attention. I think I began to think of myself as inherently disappointing. I reinforce those feelings at work and in romantic relationships. I think I’ll disappoint everyone in the end.”
Jacqueline nodded. “And so what if you do? Disappointment never killed anyone. Are you meant to be a perfect person? What if...you take the risk, and you don’t disappoint simply by being yourself?”
“Wow. Somehow I never considered that possibility. I guess this is why I pay you.”
Jacqueline chuckled. “May I offer you a challenge?”
“You may.”
“Next time you feel yourself running away, running out of fear of letting down others, decide that disappointment is a risk they’ll have to live with if they want to live with you. Just like with anyone else. Make a choice and believe that you’re worth it.”
Perdie crossed her arms. “Hmm. I’m skeptical but...”
Perdie was wiping out the inside of her kitchen cabinets in preparation for future condo showings when a knock came at the door.
Life had calmed to a dull point after an initial wave of grief. She was empty and complacent at her new job. To a certain degree, she welcomed the numbness. Her career ambitions were effectively on life support. Her love life a distant and hazy memory. She was almost like a ghost, and while the therapy was helping, she wasn’t back to breathing yet. Maybe she was closer to a half-resuscitated zombie. Maybe she needed a good zap like Frankenstein’s monster.
