Broken Juliet(75)

After a few seconds, I realize I’ve gone silent.

I look up to find Dr. Kate staring at me.

“Are you okay?”

I don’t answer.

“Just breathe, Cassie. Allow everything you’re feeling to have its moment, then let it go. Every breath will lessen the anxiety. You don’t need it anymore.”

I take deep breaths. The more I do it, the easier it gets.

After a couple of minutes, I feel calm enough to open my eyes.

Dr. Kate gives me a warm smile. “Well done. How do you feel?”

“Drained.”

“Good. That means you’re purging. Each time you do it, your emotional burden will lessen, and that’s our goal.”

She looks at the clock. “We have a few minutes left. Is there anything else that’s been weighing on your mind?”

I take another slow breath and let it out before saying, “I sometimes get this overwhelming sense of … guilt about Ethan, when things started going wrong.”

“About what?”

I shake my head. “How I couldn’t help him. I feel like a lot of this stuff is my fault, because I wasn’t strong enough or clever enough or patient enough to help him change.”

She puts down her notebook and takes off her glasses. “Cassie, let me assure you, it’s not possible to change people. You can encourage and support them, but that’s about it. The rest is up to them.”

“But I feel like I should’ve done more.”

She looks at me for a few seconds, then crosses her legs. “Do you like books?”

For a moment, I’m thrown by her sudden left turn. “Um … Yes.”

“Well,” she says as she laces her fingers together, “let’s say people were books. Everyone who comes into our lives is given a glimpse of a few of our pages. If they like us, we show them more pages. If we like them, we want them to see the unedited parts. Some people may make notes in the margins. Leave their marks upon us and our story. But ultimately, the words that are printed—that represent us as a person—don’t change without our permission.”

She leans forward and gives me a smile.

“You had a huge impact on Ethan. No doubt, in the story of his life, you’ve left your mark everywhere. It’s unfortunate that a lot of other people did as well. Ethan made a choice to delete their contributions and only keep the things that made him stronger. He reprinted himself, if you like. The only person who was capable of doing that was Ethan. Just like the only person who can rewrite your story and how it ends is you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nod, because what she’s saying makes perfect sense. And the realization that all the therapy in world isn’t going to help me unless I take the responsibility for helping myself is both terrifying and exhilarating.

She pats me on the arm. “Well, our time is up. I’ll see you in a few days. In the meantime, try not to be too hard on yourself, and please wish Ethan all the best for me.”

“I will. Thanks.”

When I step out into the waiting room, Ethan’s there. He closes the book he’s reading and stands.

After the roller coaster of emotions I’ve just experienced, I’m amazed at how happy I am to see him.

The way he looks at me makes me warm all over.

“Good session?”

I smile and go to him. “Pretty good. Watcha reading?”

He holds it up for me to see.

“The Art of Happiness?”

“It’s written by the Dalai Lama.”

“So just a light read, then.”

He shakes his head. “Not light, but definitely worth it.”

“Yeah? What does it say?”

He steps forward, his expression serious. “In a nutshell, it says ‘Make Cassie smile every day and tell her you love her even when she doesn’t want to hear it.’”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Excess emotion wells up.

He doesn’t help by wrapping his arms around me like he never wants to let go.

I don’t want to let go, either.

The thing is, if people were books, Ethan would be a bestseller. A sexy, intelligent, page-turner you’d find hard to put down, even after it reduced you to a sobbing mess.





TWENTY-ONE


ENCORE


Three Years Earlier

Westchester, New York

The Grove

Senior Showcase


We wrap around each other like we’re all that’s holding each other to the earth. Adrenaline pumps through me, and even though snuggling with Ethan helps channel my nerves, I can’t get rid of them completely. Neither can he. This performance is too important.

A few nerves will do us good. Raise our energy. Keep us on point.

When the call comes to take our places, I pull back and look into his eyes. He strokes my face and looks back with love, but there are also flickers of something else.

Doubt?

Fear?

Both?

We head down to the stage, and the show begins. Our scene is first. Romeo and Juliet. Performing with him is so easy. We tap into our connection effortlessly. The scene is flawless, and after we take our bow, he leads me offstage and kisses me in triumph before running off to get changed.