Page 54 of Finally Home

WREN

Two days after my talk with Rhodes, I find myself on a surprisingly comfortable purple couch in Dr. Connie Whitlock’s office, spilling my guts to the kind woman.

“I just wanted somebody to love me unconditionally, you know? And that’s what marriage is supposed to be: loving your partner in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, till death do you part. That’s all I wanted.” I sniffle.

My words are barely more than a whisper, but she hears them and hands me a box of tissues. I take it gratefully, blowing my nose in a very unladylike way. I stare at her pitifully. It feels weird to discuss something so heavy in a room that’s this bright and happy.

She nods sagely and clasps her hands together. “Wren, it’s not unreasonable for you to expect a basic level of common decency from your partner. Marriage vows are supposed to be a sacred thing, but they’re not the be-all-end-all of relationships. Your mother walked out on her marriage and that could have deterred you from commitment, but instead, it had the opposite effect. You were driven from a young age to seek that commitment and stability no matter the cost to yourself.”

I go to speak, but she holds her hand up. “Not that you’re to blame for your ex-husband’s actions. His choices are his alone and never your fault or burden to carry. I simply mean I believe your path to healing may very well involve learning that you don’t need to rely on someone else for stability. You’re incredibly successful on your own merit, Wren, and you have a solid support system.”

Kind eyes hold my gaze as I hand her back the tissue box. “But should you choose to pursue a romantic relationship any time soon, I think your top priorities should be complete transparency and asking for help from your partner when necessary. Don’t cast your needs aside for anyone, Wren.”

She glances at her watch and closes her notebook after making a few final notes. “Your homework for this week is to find a new hobby. Something you can comfortably do alone that makes you happy. Does that sound doable?”

My mind is already spinning with ideas, and each one fans the flames of excitement in my chest. “It does. Thanks Dr. Whitlock.”

She sends me a pointed look. “I told you, it’s Doc or Connie. Dr. Whitlock makes me feel old.”

I laugh and give her a thumbs up as I stand and gather my belongings. “You got it, Connie. See you next week?”

Smiling, she waves me on. “Same time, same place. Call the number I gave you if you need me before then.”

I took Connie’s homework seriously, which is how I wind up alone at a pottery painting studio in Mount Pleasant on a Friday night. Color Me Crazy is a cute little shop tucked away off a main road only a couple of shops down from the Italian restaurant my dad and I went to a few weeks ago. The scent of paint and clay accosts my nose when I walk in, but it’s oddly enjoyable.

“Hello, and welcome to Color Me Crazy. What can I help you with today?” A quiet voice greets me. Turning to the front counter, I see a woman around my age, if not a little younger. I walk over to the counter with a bright smile.

“Hi, I was hoping to paint…something today.” She giggles at my hesitation, and her demeanor puts me instantly at ease.

“Well, you can definitely do that. Come on, I’ll show you all the pieces we have to pick from and get you set up at a table. My name is Lyla, by the way.” She switches between anxiously fiddling with her sleeves and her left ring finger as we walk. There’s a thin tan line on her finger she keeps touching and I wonder if she’s married.

Something about Lyla reminds me of myself, and I make a silent vow to make friends with her if she’s open to it. “My name is Wren. So, how long have you worked here?”

She seems genuinely surprised I asked, and it takes her a minute to answer. “I, um, I just started here maybe a month ago? I’m double majoring in childhood education and psychology, so I took a job here to try and offset some of the student loans.”

My eyes widen. “That’s incredible, Lyla! God, you must be crazy busy. I can’t even imagine. How much longer do you have before you graduate?”

Her smile changes her whole face, making her mossy green eyes light up. “I only have two months left, and I’m so ready to be done.”

Lyla shows me all the pottery options, and I pick out a cute mug covered in lemons. She leads me to a table and helps me set up the paints while I debate whether I should ask her to sit with me. I don’t want her to think I’m hitting on her or being creepy, but I haven’t made a female friend since Ella, so I have no idea what I’m doing.

Deciding to go for it, I clear my throat awkwardly. “Hey, I hope this isn’t weird, and if I’m distracting you from your job, feel free to tell me no. But would you maybe wanna sit with me and hang out for a bit?”

Her face lights up again, but she looks stunned too. “You want to hang out with me?” She asks quietly, a bit of suspicion lacing her tone.

I smile and give her an honest answer. “I just recently moved back here after living in Washington state for four years, and even before I left, I didn’t really have any female friends. You seem so nice, and I plan on spending a lot of time here, so I figured I might as well try to make a friend too.”

I panic when her eyes water, terrified I’ve upset her. “I’m so sorry, you can absolutely tell me no! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable at your job?—”

Lyla gasps. “NO!” She shouts. Flinching, she slaps her hands over her mouth and stares around the shop in horror with a grimace, sitting down in the chair across from me. “Sorry, I just mean, I would love to be friends with you. I don’t have any friends, really,” she frowns. “That makes me sound like a loser, but it’s true. I moved here recently, too, and don’t really have any family or know anyone. It’s been pretty lonely.”

She looks so sad, and her whispered words make me want to be her friend even more. I pull my phone out, so I can make a new contact, and hand it to her. “If we’re gonna be friends, we should probably exchange numbers. But be warned, I talk a lot, and sometimes I geek out over baseball. I also have a bunch of nosy family members who will probably try and adopt you if you ever meet them, and a baseball-player boyfriend who’s normally attached to my hip.”

A loud laugh escapes her, but she gets that same panicked look and dials it down to a quiet giggle. “That’s okay. Like I said, I don’t really have anyone, so I’m kind of jealous you have so many people around you.”

I’m determined to pull Lyla out of her shell one laugh at a time. Smirking at her, I put my number in her tiny flip phone. “Stick with me, babe. Soon enough you’ll have more people in your life than you know what to do with.”

A faraway look crosses her face, her lips curling up slightly in the corners, and she sighs wistfully. “I think I’d like that, Wren.”

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