Page 71 of Raising Love
“You are never really alone, as long as you keep reaching out,” she continued, her thumb brushing my cheek before her hand dropped away. She turned back to the clothing rack, sliding hangers along the metal bar with determination. “You’ve got to get in the habit of asking for help. Stop expecting to do everything by yourself. It really does take a village.”
We fell into a brief silence, and I tried to let her words sink in. But instead, the truth burst out before I could stop myself. “Leo and I slept together.”
She froze mid-reach, slowly turning her head to stare at me.
“Twice,” I added, my voice barely above a whisper. “It was probably why he moved back to his loft.”
My mother blinked, her eyes wide. “Oh.”
“And now he’s been liking all my pictures on social media,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice, “but barely says two words to me when we’re face-to-face. Like earlier, when I handed the baby off to him.”
Her jaw dropped slightly, and she looked around, as if needing to confirm she’d heard me right. “Oh.”
“It was a mistake,” I admitted, shaking my head. “I’ve resolved to forgive myself for it. We aren’t in a good place since he moved out, but honestly, it’s probably for the best.”
“Hmph.” She tilted her head, giving me that knowing look she’s perfected over the years. “Well, I like him.”
I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “Mommy, please.”
“He’s handsome and very successful,” she said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “And single. And handsome. Did I mention he’s handsome?”
“It’s not happening again,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “So don’t even start.”
She smiled, turning back to the rack with a shrug. “Okay… if you say so.”
“I do say so,” I insisted.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Anyway,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away, “what happened between us is what’s got me feeling so unsure. How can I handle being a single parent—or guardian—or whatever—if I’m already this thrown off?”
“You’ve got a village,” she reminded me, her tone softening. “It’s not going to be easy. But life never is. There are mountains and valleys, Ivy. It’s your perspective that makes the difference. How you choose to travel those paths is what separates the happy from the sad.” She turned to face me fully. “You are never alone, as long as you keep reaching out.”
Encouraged by her words, I found the strength to approach Rylee after the group session.
She was a joy to watch, gracefully engaging with everyone who came up to her. I’d heard from others that there was usually a therapist leading the group, but today, Rylee seemed to take on that role effortlessly. Her presence was warm and inviting.
As she gathered a stack of loose papers from the table, I cleared my throat. “Hey—hi, Rylee.”
She looked up, and a smile spread across her face. “Hey, Ivy.”
I gasped softly, surprised she knew my name. “Oh! How… how do you?—”
She turned the papers in her hand to show me. “You signed in when you got here. I know everyone else’s name on this list since they’re regulars. Yours was the only new one. And since you didn’t say much during the meeting, I figured you had to be Ivy.”
I laughed, impressed. “Very observant.”
“Oh, girl.” She giggled, tucking the papers under her arm. “I try. So, how was your first meeting with us today?”
“It was good.” I nodded, meaning it. “You’ve created an environment that feels really safe.”
That last word came out as a tremble as a sudden wave of emotions hit me.
Rylee immediately noticed, placing the stack of papers back on the table. “Oh, Ivy, are you okay?”
I nodded quickly, inhaling deeply to keep the tears at bay. “I’m just… I’m really grateful for this space right now. Especially right now.”
Rylee gave me her full attention, her expression calm and inviting. She didn’t rush me to explain or try to fill the silence. She simply let me speak.
