Page 135 of Ask Me Something

Finally, I spoke. It was the first time I’d ever confided in my sister. “Brian had a nickname for me. It was Sasha-B-Fierce. That image came crashing down yesterday in the form of a panic attack.”

She regarded me for a moment before answering. “The fall always seems further when viewed with your own eyes than it actually is. After I had Kassandra, I suffered from postpartum depression. I was much harder on myself than everyone else combined.”

I looked at her, stunned.

She drew a shaky breath before continuing. “Here I was with an amazing husband and three beautiful children already. I should’ve been a pro. Instead, I could barely get out of bed and would cry for no reason. Mom and Dad knew and, of course, Ryan, but I was humiliated. I’d worked so hard to be the perfect mother and show I could do it all, and yet I couldn’t seem to function.”

I could hardly believe she’d been through this, and I’d been clueless. She always seemed to have it together. “What did you do?”

“Well, I started out telling Ryan he needed to leave me, because he was better off without someone like me. He of course told me to shut up and that he couldn’t afford the child support even if he wanted to.”

I grinned. “I can see him saying that.”

She laughed. “I got counseling. When I told my therapist he’d said that, she was appalled, but after meeting him, she realized it’s his personality. And it’s what I’d needed, a little laughter, instead of sympathy all of the time. I still go to a group thing once a week and meet with other women who are going through it now. Ironically, helping others is how I got through the feeling of inadequacy. Once you realize everyone struggles, you stop beating yourself up so much. I guess what I’m attempting to say is trying to be perfect is exhausting. Trying to keep up the perception when you know you’re not is even worse. It’s like you’re lying to yourself every day in the hopes that no one will catch on. I don’t want my kids to grow up having this unrealistic expectation of themselves or others. I want them to know it’s okay to make mistakes and have problems. The best way I could do that is to be honest with my own.”

I’d never thought about it from that perspective, and wondered if that was why Juliette hadn’t wanted to confide in me. Had I alienated people from confiding in me because I’d always gone out of my way to project this image that I didn’t struggle? Clearly the answer was yes considering this was the first time Addison had ever admitted something in her life was less than perfect.

Ironic that admitting our faults was making me feel closer to my sister than I ever had. “I’m sorry. I wish I would’ve known, but in saying that realize I’ve never given you a reason to confide in me like this.”

“I wish I would’ve known about you, too. But now that we do, we could be there for one another.”

I swallowed hard. “I’d like that. I love you, Addison.”

Her shocked eyes met mine. Sadly I wasn’t sure I’d ever said those words to her.

“I love you too, Sasha.”

We returned to the house and enjoyed a family brunch. There were no snipes, no passive-aggressive comments, and I realized the vulnerable Sasha I’d worked so hard to hide turned out to be more likeable than the defensive version. After my sister and family left, I went upstairs to pack, intending to return to New York tonight.

My dad knocked lightly and came in the already-open door. He took a seat on my bed. “What’s the plan?”

I shrugged. “Back to work. As far as Brian and the personal stuff—I’m petrified and don’t know what to do.” I’d had a lot of self-reflection upon coming home and was beginning to get past the humiliation of what had happened, but how could I be certain Brian loved the real me?

“Darlin’, you’re the quarterback in the red zone on fourth down with inches to go. Do you want the ball, or will you settle for the field goal?”

I grinned. “I want the ball.”

“You always have. But what you need to remember is that you’ve got an entire team behind you, blocking, cheering, what have you. There’s nothing wrong with relying on those who love you to support you, Sasha Jayne. No one can do everything alone.”

“You’re right.” I already felt lighter having confided in my family.

“Good. And remember, nothing says if you don’t like the play, that you can’t revise and call an audible. You’re in control, baby girl, and don’t let anyone ever tell you differently.”

How could I possibly argue with a man who could spin a football metaphor into a life lesson?

* * *

Waitingin the airport for the last flight, I winced when Josh’s number came up on my cell phone. I wondered immediately if Brian had confided the personal details of our relationship to him, but then realized, it didn’t bother me if he had.

“Sasha Brooks here.”

“Sasha, it’s Josh. I hope I’m not calling too late.” Was it my imagination or did he sound off?

“No, I’m at the airport waiting on my flight back up to New York. Everything okay?”

“Actually, no. I’m in a predicament. Brian had a conflict come up for tomorrow morning’s NASCAR pitch, and I need someone to step in.”

“That pitch is huge. What could possibly conflict with it?”

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