Page 106 of Finally Mine
“So glad you asked,” she smirked. “I talked to someone. I was rattling around feeling like a skeleton among the living. Little things setting me off, scaring the hell out of me, not sleeping. And when I did sleep—”
“Nightmares,” Aldo filled in.
She nodded. “Yeah. Still have them sometimes. But not as bad. Talk to someone. Get it out. If you keep it in, it’ll eat at you from the inside out.”
It was something he’d planned to avoid. He could power through this on his own like he did everything else. Only this time it wasn’t working.
They chatted for a few more minutes about old wounds and new plans. When they disconnected, Aldo stared at the desktop wallpaper on the screen and drummed his fingers on his knees. It was a picture of him and Gloria out to dinner. The waiter had taken it, and they were both grinning at each other like idiots over gyros.
Didn’t he owe it to them both to get all the way better? To give it his all?
He stood up, stretched, and ambled into the kitchen where the scents of caramel and apples and home wafted.
He wrapped his arms around Gloria from behind and nuzzled into her neck.
“You can lecture me about boundaries now,” she said, sunnily.
“Thank you for not respecting mine.”
She laughed lightly and turned in his arms. “I want things to be good for you. As good as they can be.”
“With you here, making—what the hell is that?”
“Caramel apple pie.”
“With you here, making caramel apple pie, and this furry little asshole climbing up my leg, things are pretty damn good.”
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I don’t really know how this works. It was Gloria’s suggestion. I get that you have to look at me blankly like that when I say her name because of HIPAA bullshit. But I know you know who I mean when I say Gloria.
I’d do anything for that woman, including spill my guts to a complete stranger. Lucky you.
How am I doing? I could have lost her. I don’t know how I’m dealing with it. I guess not well. I wasn’t in the best place before this. It was better but still not normal.
I think Gloria’s worried that this whole thing with that asshole is making me backslide. She got me a kitten. Or a monster that looks like a kitten. But it’s nice to have something else in the house with me. It’s nice not being alone.
I had… I don’t know. Something like a panic attack right after Diller broke in.
I wasn’t there when she needed me. And don’t give me any of the “how could I have known she was in danger?” I should have known. I should have been there. I wasn’t. I failed her. Again. I failed her when she was sixteen years old, and I failed her again now.
But she saved herself. She didn’t need me.
And that makes me so fucking proud of her. Sorry.
I’m all mixed up about it. I wasn’t there. I failed her. In the end, she didn’t need me.
It still hurts. My leg. I’m tired. I used to never get tired. I get that it’s going to take time, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to feel normal again. I don’t know if I’m going to ever pull on a pair of shorts without thinking that I used to have two legs. Or not be exhausted after a full day of work. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to close my eyes and not see that explosion or Gloria holding a fucking frying pan with eyes as big as coasters.
Life feels…darker. Less certain. Everything feels vaguely unsettling. Except for Gloria. She’s like this beautiful bright spot in my day. There are things I want to give her…but I don’t know if I’m ready. And if I’m not ready, if I fail her again…
I’m pushing myself physically because it’s what I do. I’m making progress there. But maybe not so much emotionally. I have a closet full of left and right shoes and only one foot. I can still feel my toes that aren’t there. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between real pain and ghost pain. And that’s what’s going on in my brain. I can’t tell the difference between real fear and ghost fear.
I don’t feel strong, and I was always strong. I was always the best. The hardest worker. I don’t know if I can get back to that. What am I if I’m not the strongest? The best?
I want to move forward with Gloria. But I’m stuck in this valley of fear, paralyzed.
I wasn’t there. But she didn’t need me.
