Hell on Heels(23)

I was distraught, a wrecking ball of sentimentality, but I was no longer ashamed by that notion. I took pride in the fact that I managed to leave the house at all, let alone clean and clothed like an almost functioning member of society.

“What made you think of him?”

Distractedly, I watched a road construction crew on the corner. More so, I found a black hardhat and burned my suffering into the surrogate unbeknownst to him.

I was angry, still so f*cking angry, but that was okay. Time had passed, but still, I found anger was an emotion I was capable of managing. Sadness, however, could still cut me off at the knees.

“Charleston, focus please.”

I stood from the window, walking over to the navy blue couch adjacent to her, and sat down. “I always think of Henry.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “But what about today made you think of him?”

She spun her pen around with her fingers; it was a habit of hers, and I watched the ballpoint move in circles.

“He was there when…” My voice dropped off and she sighed.

“Go on.”

I crossed and uncrossed my legs, picking at a nonexistent piece of fluff on my jeans. “He was there when Dean left.” His name felt like a traitor on my tongue and came out on a snarl. “He promised he wouldn’t leave me.”

“Henry?”

I nodded.

“You know that wasn’t a promise Henry was capable of keeping. It’s a promise most of us can’t guarantee we will ever keep. No one knows the course in which our lives will take us.”

She was sympathetic towards the memory of my brother, she always was, and for that I was appreciative.

I nodded again. “I know.”

She scribbled something on her notepad. It didn’t bother me. Doctor Colby had been analyzing the inner workings of my mind for years. It was a wonder she didn’t write more, actually.

“Are you ready to talk about Dean?”

Was I ready to talk about Dean?

No.

I stayed crying on the floor for what seemed like hours after he left. Eventually, when the tears subsided, I’d picked myself up off the ground, locked the front door, and collapsed into a second fit of hysteria in the comfort of my bed.

My insomnia tore through the walls.

The floorboards echoed with my cries.

It seemed as though the room itself bled in response to my agony.

Relief dawned in the early morning hours, and I slept in my clothes.

It was not a restful sleep.

I had nightmares that felt as real as the pressure in my chest.

Two times, I woke screaming.

Was I ready to talk about Dean?

No.

“Yes,” I answered anyway.

She removed her glasses off the bridge of her nose and placed them on the top of the pad in her lap. “How did you feel when you came home and saw him in your space like that?”

My palms got sweaty.

“Violated.” I shook when I spoke, remembering the moment I registered his face.

He’d gotten older, obviously. The stubble on his cheeks was new, but his hair had been the same light brown. It was his eyes that bore through to the core of my identity, the dark blue irises that had held so many promises, so much of a future unlived.

He had wrinkles around his eyes that looked like he’d laughed a lot in the last decade.

Seeing his face had pushed me into a free fall.

Doctor Colby nodded. “That’s not surprising. It’s been so long, and that would be a grave violation of your privacy.” Sometimes I wondered what I’d done to deserve that, to have life play such a cruel joke on me. “I think a healthy way to prevent something like this from happening again while he’s working in your building might be to establish a distinct set of boundaries.”

My stomach bottomed out. I’d been so wrapped up in the immediate nature of the chaos that I hadn’t stopped to think that he’d still be working in my building.

That my world would be plagued by him.

“Do you think that’s something you might feel comfortable doing?”

I ran the insides of my palms over the top of my jeans. “Yes.”

“Okay.” She put her glasses back on and made another note. “My suggestion would be that you either call or write a letter to your building manager, only if you feel comfortable doing so, requesting that any further access required to your unit must be approved by you directly.”

That sounded manageable.

Dave was a nice guy. He’d understand.

“This way I think you can do your best to avoid any more blindsiding.” I nodded. “Boundaries are healthy, Charleston. It’s important you express that need to those around you. Especially Dean.”

Dean.

Jesus.

My life was the plot of a bad book.

Would the damaged woman be repaired by the boy who played a part in breaking her?

No, I thought not.

“I don’t plan on talking to him again,” I argued, and she shook her head.

“Of course you feel that way.” There was a but coming; I knew that from a history of sessions with that tone of voice. “But I think it would be wise to accept the fact there’s a good chance that will be unavoidable in the near future.” Told you so. “Do you know how much damage was done to your apartment in particular?” Doctor Colby inquired.