Page 63 of Escape Girl

But that was absurd, right? When Jo said it aloud last night, it made a bizarre sort of sense, but in the fresh light of a new day, could that really be true?

Dr. Rivera just nodded. “Did you seek any counseling when your mom passed?” I shook my head. “Or talk about her with family or friends?”

“No. Very rarely.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Why is that?”

My lips wanted to seal themselves from the inside. But that’s what I’d been doing for years. And it wasn’t working. “Because talking about her makes me feel like I’ll dissolve. That I’ll completely lose it. Come apart at the seams.” Tears clogged my voice. “I willbreak.”

She nodded again, and a thinking line appeared between her eyebrows. “I might posit that the grief at her passing has already broken you.”

Well, gee thanks.

A glimmer of humor brightened her eyes, so some of my sarcasm must have shown on my face. “But you being here today, reaching out for help, is a great step toward healing.”

I nodded, doubtful. Talking was going to cure me of all this toxicity? Unlikely.

Dr. Rivera was clearly accustomed to skepticism. “Emily, do you know what happens to a broken bone that doesn’t get set?”

“It doesn’t heal right,” I mumbled, almost rolling my eyes.

She didn’t care about my grouchy tone; she just smiled and nodded. “Correct. All sorts of things can go wrong. A serious infection can develop. It can deteriorate into a permanent deformity. It doesn’t even have to be that serious, but a bone thatremains broken can also just mean that swelling, tenderness, and pain will get worse over time.”

She shrugged. “Why should the mind be that different from the body? What is grief if not trauma to the mind? If it doesn’t get treated, it makes perfect sense to me that deterioration and more pain could follow.”

I moved my shoulders up and down abruptly in an insolent shrug. “That sounds like the way you’d explain grief to a child.” I was a grown woman. I didn’t need analogies that belonged in a kids’ TV show.

Dr. Rivera accepted this with a gentle nod. “Maybe. But what is a person who is suffering the loss of their mother, if not a child?”

Ooof. I chewed on my bottom lip. Score one for the doc.

“There are obviously no guarantees with therapy,” she said. “But I feel confident that we can get you to a healthier emotional space. If you’d like to give this a try and do the work, I’m here.”

It was the phrase “do the work” that decided me. I was a workaholic, after all.

Hell, look at the mess I’d made of my life. I spent all of my time working at a job I tolerated, just to hide from my feelings. I’d thrown away a marriage to the most wonderful man on earth. I loved my father, but our relationship was only a fraction of what it should be. I’d let all my old friendships lapse and shied away from new ones. I was so unmoored that no place in the world felt like home. What could happen—I’d fall apart even more?

I had nothing left to lose.

“Can we get started today?” I asked.

*

I didn’t speakto anyone for a while after starting therapy. My sessions with Dr. Rivera settled somewhere between brutal and cathartic, and after them I felt too wrung out to have normal conversations.

I didn’t disappear, exactly. I shot an email to Jo and Tess, thanking them for dinner and telling them that I was meeting with one of the therapists Jo recommended. I told both Bella and Max that I needed a little time off but that I would recommit to the case when I felt better. I texted my father to let him know I was alive and in Chicago. I informed the HR department at my firm that I was a taking a leave of absence.

One of Dr. Rivera’s suggestions was that I join a support group for people who had lost loved ones to cancer. At first, the idea of sitting with others suffering through raw pain sounded like a terrible idea. But it actually became the most valuable experience imaginable, to witness so many good people who had been hit by the same emotional semi-truck. To hear their struggles and stories. To see them going through the same cycles as me. To understand, finally, that feeling better was possible.

*

When I feltcapable of human interaction again, Jo was the first person I called. “Dr. Rivera has been great, and she’s really helping me. Thank you.”

Jo’s voice was warm and encouraging. “I’m so happy to hear that. I’ve thought about you constantly.”

We chatted for a few minutes about Jamie and their wedding plans. They were planning a destination wedding in New Orleans. “Nothing fancy. Just small and fun.” She laughed.

Small and fun. Much like the wedding Bobby had wanted. I gave in and asked the question I cared most about. “Um, how is Bobby doing?”

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