Page 16 of Give Me Strength

“Breathe with me, Lynn. In and out, nice and slow,” she says softly, rubbing my back in soothing circles.

I try to match her breaths, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. The air fills my lungs, each breath pushing back the lingering fear. Gradually, my heartbeat steadies, the room coming back into focus.

“Good, just like that,” she whispers. “You’re here, you’re safe.”

I nod again, my head resting on her shoulder. Reality around me becomes more solid — the familiar posters on the walls, the soft comforter beneath me, the gentle hum of the air conditioner. I take another deep breath, letting her words sink in. The fear begins to ebb away, replaced by a tired but comforting sense of safety. I pull back slightly, looking up at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, her voice gentle.

I shake my head. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” she says. “Whenever you’re ready. Just remember, you’re not alone. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

She kisses my forehead, her lips warm and reassuring. “Do you want me to stay with you for a while?”

“Please,” I say, the word coming out as a soft plea.

She nods, shifting to sit more comfortably on the bed.

As I cling to her, the images of the accident linger, the echoes of my screams reverberating in my mind. And, something else…

“What happened to Mom’s ring?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She freezes, albeit momentarily. “What ring?”

I worry my bottom lip. “The one Rachel gave her.”

The tension eases from her body. I feel her shift, her arm tightening around me. “She was buried with it.”

“And Dad was okay with that?”

“He didn’t know. I snuck it on her when he wasn’t looking, otherwise he would’ve…” she trails off at that, then lets out a weary sigh. “Why are you asking about that now?”

I shrug. “I just remembered it. In the dream.”

What I don’t tell her that I still remember the look on Mom’s face when Rachel slipped the ring on her finger that day. It wasn’t the first time I saw them kiss, but it was the first time I saw them do so in public.

In their defense, they were backstage and they thought they were alone, but they weren’t. Then again, they were holding hands too, in the car.

“It’s just a dream, Lynn,” Aunt Bonnie gently reminds me as she takes my hand in hers, her grip gentle but firm. “Come on, go shower and change out of these wet clothes, and I’ll change your sheets.”

“This part wasn’t,” I mutter under my breath as I do what she asks.

Ten minutes later, I lay back down, my head resting on the pillow of my freshly changed sheets. I opt to skip my pill, since she agreed to stay with me until I fall asleep. The room is quiet, but it’s a comforting silence now, filled with the soft sounds of our breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets.

Gradually, my eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion from the nightmare and the reassurance of Aunt Bonnie’s presence pulling me back towards sleep. This time, it’s a peaceful, dreamless sleep, the warmth of her hand in mine a constant reminder that I am safe.

7

GILBERT

For our next meeting, Bonnie proposes we meet somewhere other than Will’s office, and I can’t say that I disagree with her. Ironically, she picks a café that offers a welcome change of atmosphere from his stuffy office.

This place is quiet, with soft music playing in the background. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of pastries. It’s a neutral place, a place where we can have a calm and logical discussion away from the tension of the lawyer’s office.

It also happens to be located near Brookfield Performing Arts Academy.

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