Pieces For You (30 page)

Thia shrugged, “Whatever works.  I’m Italian, feeding and guilt come naturally.  But answer this…why would you feel guilty unless I was right, at least to some degree?”

I huffed in frustration.

“You desperately want to call me a smug bitch right now, don’t you?” she laughed.

I left Thia’s office, shell-shocked.  I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I arrived—maybe a pat on the back for separating from Griffin, given his concerning behavior.  She never said what I expected.  Thia didn’t say I made a mistake, but she made it clear that I acted without true consideration, allowing fear and emotion to guide my decision.  I was reacting, not reflecting.  Ugh!  I guess I had a lot to think about.

I kept telling myself that, regardless of the motivating force, Griffin was still off the reservation last night.  I had every right to distance myself from potential danger.  I wasn’t overreacting, I was protecting myself and being smart.  But Thia made me question my conclusions.  If I was so justified, then why did her words hold weight?  Why was my heart screaming at me, cursing and calling me a fool?

I felt hollow inside, a huge piece of me ripped away so suddenly its absence was all the more pronounced—Griffin.  My hope and faith had fled with him, their departure echoing, reiterating the loss.  How could another person be a piece of you?  It was fundamentally wrong.  I always believed in order to be a good partner you had to be whole, not relying on another to fill the emptiness within.  I believed in love, even the fairytale, but never did I consider the term ‘soul mate’ anything more than a literary hyperbole.  I vividly remember watching the movie ‘Jerry Maguire’ and rolling my eyes as he emphatically told Dorothy, “You complete me.” 

Yet here I was, aching for Griffin…or rather the man I thought he was.  He couldn’t have been the puzzle piece that snapped perfectly into place, finishing the picture of Sam—he couldn’t.  The man I fell in love with and who fit me so flawlessly was not authentic.  He contorted himself, hiding his own ugly pieces, and once the hidden edges were exposed, he no longer fit.  I hated him for deceiving me, allowing me to fall in love with a sanitized version of himself and breaking an unspoken promise.  Ugh!  I hated myself even more than him for still wanting the illusion, wishing last night had never happened.

I needed to occupy my mind with thoughts other than Griffin…I needed a time-out.  I headed to Walmart and bought an airbed with a built-in pump and the highest thread-count sheets I could find.  At least it would be more comfortable than that abomination of a “bed” I slept on last night.  Even hospital beds were more comfortable—trust me, I knew.

I pulled up to the guard booth of the gated community and was pleasantly surprised to find that the seller’s agent had phoned to announce my soon-to-be-owner status.  I drove past the beautiful clubhouse, pool area, and tennis courts on the way to my new home.  I let myself in, my hands trembling slightly—this was my new start at independence.  I expected to feel joyous, but the stark emptiness inside me overshadowed everything else. 

The floor plan was open and spacious, high ceilings and windows met me at every turn.  The wood floors and taupe walls added warmth.  I peeked in the guestroom before heading to the master suite.  The bedroom was spacious with French doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the man-made lake with plume fountain.  The original floor plan for the unit called for 2 bedrooms, 2.5 bathrooms, and an office, but during construction the owners converted the office that shared a wall with the master bedroom into a humongous closet/dressing room.  It was outfitted with built-in shelves and clothing bars throughout.  A marble-topped vanity and accessory wall was thoughtfully placed near the entry.  It was a space you would find on Pinterest and immediately pin to your ‘dream closet’ board—but now it was mine.  I hugged myself in gratitude.  I entered the master bath and relished the luxurious spa-like atmosphere. 

I headed back downstairs to the kitchen, my second favorite room in the house.  It was a work of art.  Top of the line appliances were nestled strategically in antiqued wood cabinetry.  I made a list in my mind for the grocery store, planning the first meal I would cook in this chef’s dream.  My momentary excitement was squelched when I realized I would be cooking for one most nights.

I tried to focus on the positive by assuring myself I had indeed purchased wisely for both living pleasure and investment purposes.  I texted Ev and Hunter to share the good news before I returned to Hunter’s apartment to collect my meager belongings stored there.  I still needed to make arrangements to get the rest of my furniture and clothes from Griffin’s house.  Embracing my inner wimp, I debated asking Hunter and Ev to pick up my belongings from Griffin.  I couldn’t see him—I wasn’t ready. 

The emptiness of the house echoed my mood, and I needed to be alone without an audience for my pain.  I fell asleep that night feeling completely alone.  My pillow was damp from the tears I shed, but I didn’t have the energy to flip it over to the dry side.  At least the airbed was more comfortable than Hunter’s couch.  I had gotten one thing right.

I awoke on a partially deflated airbed that was trying to swallow me whole.  I glanced at my phone to find it was already noon, not a surprise since I had been wallowing in pain until five in the morning.  Any hope of feeling brighter in the light of day quickly faded.  My troubles had not flown south for the winter while I slept.

Thankfully, I had a house to furnish.  I steered my car in the direction of ignorance and oblivion, also known as the nearest Raymour and Flannigan furniture store.  If that didn’t provide enough distraction, then a trip to HomeGoods would be my next stop.

Hours later, I arrived home, furniture ordered and a trunk full of HomeGoods treasures.  Huntleigh was due in thirty minutes and I had no dinner prepared.  It didn’t matter, I could have had three hours and still wouldn’t have been able to feed them.  I had forgotten my new home was empty when I extended the invitation earlier, not a single pot or pan in sight.  At times like this there was only one solution—Oshi Sushi.  The food arrived simultaneously with Huntleigh.

I gave them the grand tour before we enjoyed dinner.  Thankfully, neither mentioned Griffin or the break-up drama.  After show-and-tell with my new home décor goodies, we exchanged hugs and goodbyes.

“The place is gorgeous, Sam.  I’m so happy for you!” Ev said while hugging me.

“Nice choice,” Hunter said, delivering his hug.

“Can you coordinate with Griffin and tell me a good time to have the movers go get my stuff?” I whispered to Hunter before he released me.

He kept his hands on my shoulders and held me away from him, studying me.  He shook his head, denying my request.

“Sorry Sam, but you are going to have to face that one yourself.  I’m not going to be the go-between so you can avoid him.  I care enough to tell you ‘no.’”

Son of a bitch!  It never occurred to me that Hunter would decline my plea for help.  Until now, there was never anything he and Ev refused to help me do.  Hell, they pushed their way in when I didn’t want help more than once.  Great time to deploy a tough love campaign, asshole.

“Fine,” I said tersely.

Hunter only chuckled at my peevish reply.

“I’m not doing it either,” Ev chimed in from behind Hunter.

“Seriously?”

“Only because I love you.”

“Only because you are trying to force your agenda,” I seethed.

“You say poe-tay-toe, I say poe-tah-toe.  Either way, I’m still not doing your dirty work.”

“Fine,” I muttered, as I opened the door for them to leave.  I didn’t exactly throw them out, and we had technically already said our goodbyes, but my displeasure was evident.

Alone again, I walked through the house, checking that the windows were locked and switching off lights.  I entered my bedroom and surveyed the dark emptiness, the only light emanated from the nightlight in the bathroom.  I wavered between anger and anguish as I stripped my clothes and roughly dragged my nightgown over my head. 

How could they refuse to help me?  They were supposed to be my family—support me even when they didn’t agree.  It felt like they were choosing sides and had abandoned me.  They thought they were helping with tough love…well, fuck tough love.  Fuck them.  I’d had plenty of ‘tough’ over the past seven months, all I needed was the damn ‘love.’  I just found out that the man I foolishly fell for was harboring a monster within, waiting to go bat-shit crazy at any provocation.  How could they want me to talk to him?  How could they not understand how much I needed them?

I had no one.

"At the center of your being you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want."  -Lao Tzu

Ev called the day after our dinner and we came to an understanding.  She and Hunter wanted to support me, but they would not choose sides.  After a candid heart-to-heart, Ev apologized for making me feel abandoned, and I apologized for overreacting to their refusal.  They came back that evening and Ev helped me hang pictures, while Hunter was tasked with moving the family and dining room furniture as we debated layout options. 

The rest of the week passed in a blur of deliveries, phone and cable technicians, and the closing of the property.  The house was officially mine and it was no longer empty…even if I still was.  I busied myself with work, home decorating, and, when desperate, reality TV.  I was now on a first-name basis with every “Real Housewife” from New York to Orange County.  Despite this, the temporary distractions were just that…temporary.  My hands were busy and my mind checked out, but the oblivion was fleeting.  Nothing helped, and as the void grew, blackness spread within like spilled ink.

I was still adamantly avoiding Griffin and Huntleigh were equally adamant in their refusal to get involved.  Faced with no other option, I was forced to purchase a basic wardrobe and cosmetic essentials to replace the originals I had abandoned.  I was lucky my new home’s community center offered a state-of-the-art gym, as I was unwilling to risk running into him at NYSC.

What surprised me was that Griffin had made no effort to contact me—none.  Complete. Radio. Silence.  A million reasons floated through my head—problems at The Stop, the flu, giving me space, too ashamed to face me—but the more time passed, the more I feared the worst…none of it had been real.  Letting me go seemed far easier for him than it was for me.  Did he not miss me?  Was he not as desperate to see me, touch me, hold me as I was for him?  My pride prevented me from asking Hunter or Ev about him.  My wariness caused me to delete every text I wrote him in moments of weakness.  I was a pathetic blubbering mess while he was probably sleeping like a baby without a care in the world.

By the time I returned to Thia’s office, I had lost five pounds and slept no more than three hours any given night.  It goes without saying that I wasn’t exactly rocking the vegetarian-zombie look.  I walked into her office without waiting for her invitation.  She looked up and scanned me from head to toe before shaking her head with disapproval.  Join the freakin’ club, Thia.

She took her usual seat across from me and the stare-down commenced.  The small spark remaining inside me flared and I resolved that she would not break me this time.  After fifty-eight minutes of uncomfortable eye contact, she finally spoke.

“The only thing you managed to prove today was that you are stubborn and your pride is more valuable to you than your healing.  Pull another stunt like this and you can find yourself a new therapist.  I only treat people who want to confront the hard truths to grow and heal.”

“What do you care?” I seethed, “You get paid either way.”

“I have a waiting list a mile long, your money is replaceable.  If you don’t want to do the work, then I will invest my time in someone who will.  You are special, Sam.  You could be one of my greatest success stories, but right now you are poised to be my biggest disappointment.”

I stared at her, mouth agape.

“You said no sugarcoating, too late to change your mind.  Your time is up today.  If you choose to return, you will make the effort to sleep and eat first, you will think about our conversation during your last session, and you will speak.  If not, we’re done.  Got it?”

I couldn’t find words.  All I was able to do was nod like an errant child.

She jerked her chin toward the door, dismissing me—it stung.  I was almost out the door when she spoke.

“Sam, I hope you come back.  Forget what people tell you…we have favorites, and you are one of mine.”

Again, all I could do was nod.  I was ashamed of my behavior, for wasting both of our time because I had refused to consider any of the issues she asked of me.  I was 90% certain Thia was the best therapist money could buy; the remaining 10%, I still questioned if she was certifiable.

I spent the rest of my day cooking an elaborate meal for one and thinking.  I didn’t reach any enlightenment, but it was my first honest attempt to sort through the events of last week and how they connected to my feelings stemming from the attack.