Page 73 of Never Stop
"I can hear in your tone that you sound worked up. Did you have another panic attack?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Okay, Let's start with what happened."
Without hesitation, "My patient, the one I told you I've grown close to, passed away last night," I sigh. "I don't know what it is I'm doing. I got into nursing thinking I could save lives and keep people from dying, yet I'm slowly realizing that there's no such thing. Everyone dies."
"Oh, Via, I see how that would send you into a panic attack."
Another pause.
"Did you try the grounding techniques we talked about?"
"Yes,"
"Did they help you?"
"Yes," I reply, feeling like a jackass for bothering my therapist at six thirty in the morning over a panic attack.
"Good. Now that you've settled your mind, you need to think. . ."
Another pause.
"What is it that you want for your life, Via? Do the work, journal it out, and work through your thoughts until you come up with the answer that best suits you. If this isn't it for you, that is OKAY. Most importantly, give yourself the same grace you freely give others."
I let out a breath and nod.Dumbass, she can't see you.
"Thank you, Dr. Carr. I'm sorry that I woke you."
"Stop apologizing. I will see you next week, but you call me back if you need to talk things through again."
After we say our goodbyes, I start my car and head home—but not to my house, tohis.
It's about eight in the morning, and I'm just making it to the beach house. I called Ander on my way to make sure this was okay. He was already on his way home from his parents' house. He assured me that he would come to me if I didn't come here, so I should do whatever made me happy and not question it. So I did. I giggled when he told me that he still hides the key in the same spot my dad used to.
Walking through the field towards his home, I feel tears well up in the creases of my eyes. Returning to the island isoverwhelming, and I'm sure it will be an adjustment. When I left work this morning, my heart craved the sound of the waves crashing the shore just as much as it yearned to have his arms around me. I'm pretty self-sufficient and have never longed to be held, but today, something feels different.
I exhale as I walk through his home for the first time without him here with me. Making my way to his room, I open the dresser and pull out a pair of Anders athletic shorts and a plain white T-shirt that fit me like a dress. I shed my scrubs and pull his clothes onto me, taking a moment to take in and appreciate his scent. Mixed with laundry detergent, it still smells like him, bringing me comfort.
After dressing, I walk through the field, toward the levee, and to the beach. Anders' truck pulls up as I step into the sand-filled grassy field. My steps are haltered, and I flash a soft smile his way. He jumps down from his big truck and wastes no time approaching me. Without a second thought, I ran to him.
"I've got you, babe." His arms wrap around me, pulling me in. He squeezes me a little tighter, and like a light switch flipped, a sob that I didn't know I was holding back bellows out of me. I guess that's how it works. After you hold back emotions for so long and you numb yourself, you get to a point where you don't even recognize what it is you're suppressing. Somehow, this man pulls it all out of me effortlessly.
Ander continues to hold me, rubbing his hand through my hair and wiping my tears away as they fall. He lets me cry. He lets me feel. He doesn't tell me to stop, tell me what I need to feel, or press me any further. He lets me, and it's exactly what I needed. I neededhim.
After a while, I peel my head off his chest and meet his soft brown eyes, which are warm but filled with concern. I inhale a breath and then let it take its time as it rolls back out.
"I think. . . I think I hate my job."
He stifles a laugh as he offers me a nod. "You think that you hate it?"
I chuckle softly, reviewing my choice of words, and shove playfully at his chest.
"You get the point, smart-ass," I say as I pull away, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the levee, which will lead us toward the water. He gives my hand a soft squeeze as we walk.
"Care to elaborate?"
"My patient. . . He died."
