Page 141 of Breathe Again

She programmed me like that.

She installedthose switches.

But now that I know they are there, they are mine to ferret out.

I hope that she is okay.

The first few days of the week were full, outings with Zale, therapy with Erin, therapy with Erin and Zale, seeing Willa, seeing Bex, working on my DBT workbook, and monitoring Olivia’s state of mind. She was beginning to process all that happened and the shock of losing me for three days, with no warning, in combination with the additional therapy appointments that took me away from her and disrupted her routine, had her acting out.

She would even out again in a week or two, and we’d have a time of peace. Then something else would trigger her, something that would take her time to process, time to identify, more time to find a way to express it to me, and then still more time to negotiate a solution. Such was the rhythm of our life, the ups and downs. What goes up must come down, what goes down will irrevocably go back up.

Acceptance was key.

That week we spent lots of time in the garden by ourselves, the garden I’d seriously neglected up until this point. Side-by-side we weeded and planted, the silent, familiar routine binding her to me, soothing her.

Without the pressure of being face to face and the challenge of eye contact, Olivia easily expressed herself. She talked about her surprise and her fear, and she wondered aloud that her Gran-Granhadn’t been around. She wondered if she was in the hospital, too, or if she didn’t want to see her. I answered all of her questions and concerns, and those that didn’t sink in, she asked again the next day.

It brought home the realization that cutting off my mother may not be an option. With Olivia involved, I had to weigh the benefits of a relationship for Olivia, against the risk of removing someone, someone she valued, from her small world. In the end, I could only state my boundaries, if Bea failed to respect them, she’d be making the choice, not me. Still, it was me who would be picking up the pieces and Olivia who would suffer. I needed to proceed carefully.

Zale and I lay down together to sleep on Monday night, and he reached for his cell to start our playlist. We lay on our sides, facing each other. He held my hands encased in both of his. A new song came on, and I listened to the lyrics intently, wanting his assurances, willing him to find the way to lead me back.

Tears stung my eyes. This song was a lie, it was all a lie. I jerked my hands from his and his eyes snapped open in alarm.

“You did stop,” I accused him.

His eyebrows rose. “I never stopped loving you,” he argued.

“That’s not what the song says, Zale! It says, ‘never stop trying, never stop watching, losing your breath, getting used to me’...you stopped all of that. You didn’t want me, you didn’t even see me.” Isneered at him. “And I saw your face when that bitch kissed you, your fucking co-worker, you were disgusted with me.” I threw out my hand. “What the fuck was that anyway? You kiss your co-workers now? Just the females, right? Tell me, is it just the cute ones? The young ones? The ones with good bodies? Or do all the women get a kiss? Except for fucking me!” I slapped my hand on my chest, hard, the slap echoing in the sudden quiet.

The horror bubbled up inside me alongside the anger. He was going to get mad, turn his back, shut down. We hadn’t even made love yet, and now we wouldn’t for days. I told myself I didn’t want to anyway but that was also a lie. He deserved better than this, better than me. Our relationship was not healthy, I was not healthy, I was not good for him. I wasn’t safe. I moved to leave the bed, keeping my chin down to avoid seeing the disgust I earned.

“Mara do not fucking move from this bed,” he commanded in a hard voice he’d never once directed at me.

I turned to him in shock, half twisted to get out of the bed, looking back at him over my shoulder. My eyes locked onto his, which were not melty on me at all, but snapping and laser focused.

“You’re right that I lost focus on what’s most important. I was worried about my job, worried about Olivia’s future, and I lost sight of what’s most important. It won’t happen again.”

“That hurt! You hurt me!” My voice was still strident, but quieter, and I could hear the pain in my voice.

He winced and reached for me, but I pulled away, staring at him now, unsure of what was going to happen next, our usual pattern disrupted. I did not notice until much later that the urge to pull my own hair and dig my nails into my thighs had started to dissipate.

He held my gaze steadily, patiently. “Mara, it won't happen again.” I huffed in disbelief. He acknowledged it with a nod and continued. “I’m not saying I’ll be perfect, and perfectly there for you all the time, but my absence will be hours at worst, not months.”

I felt my face crumble. “I’m too much. You can’t promise that.”

“You’re not, and I fucking can,” he retorted. “You not being here for three days? Hell.” He spat the word from his mouth. “So, I know, a microscopic bit, of how it must have felt for you, not having me present for so many months, and I won’t put you through that again.”

I froze in place on our bed. Did I overreact? My anger had dissipated, and I just felt stupid. Stupid and tired.

“As for her kissing my cheek, even squeezing my shoulder, Mara, that’s not done. She was out of line, and honestly, that was out of character for her. She’s a consummate professional. My guess is that she had her guard down being out with her husband celebrating her promotion and she acted impulsively.”

I tried to read his face, unsure of what he was feeling, unsure if he was telling me the truth.

“I hate her,” I whispered, my eyes wide at my confession, apprehensive about how he’d react to such a strong statement.

He nodded. “That’s fine. She’s not important. Come to bed, Mara.” He opened his arm. “Don’t fight me any longer. I need you. Please come to bed.”

I didn’t meet his eyes, confused, tentatively hopeful, feeling foolish, feeling far too many things. Always so many feelings. Too many to deal with tonight.

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