Page 118 of Breathe Again

Zale bit out through his teeth. “You’re not giving me news here, Rhys, and you’re dangerously overstepping.”

“I know,” Rhys shot right back at him, his tone even. “I just have a few questions in answer to yours. How hard was it to see Mara in my arms yesterday? Because that can either be a wake-up call or a preview. Mara being who and what she is, there will be another to take your place, they’ll be lining up at the fucking door, and most of them will be utter pricks. The real question in this situation with that particular woman is not, does she love you, because I know she does, but do you love her?”

Zale sat back hard against the back of the couch. “I really want to beat the shit out of you right now.”

“I bet.” Rhys gave him a rueful grin.

They sat quietly for a few moments. Zale saw that Rhys wasn’t done and he needed him to be.

“Spit it out, you look like you’re still chewing on something.”

Rhys met his eyes. “I don’t regret the care she required. She gave back so much. She loved so hard. With abandon.”

“So does Mara.”

“I know. Zale, I’m saying, for me, to have Amy, and have her happy and somewhat secure, all the accommodations I had to make for her, I’m not saying it wasn’t hard, man, I’m saying it was worth it.”

Considering what Rhys had just spilled, he also had to consider that he had been unknowingly punishing her, all these years, for something that she had not been doing. Resentment and misunderstanding had colored much of his response to her when she spiraled. He had the excuse of ignorance up until this point, but no longer.

“Thank you.”

Rhys tipped his beer toward him, and they drank, comfortable with each other’s silence. Then Rhys patched the hole in Mara’s kitchen wall.

Zale left him to it. He had to call his brother back and update them, he had Olivia to check on, and most importantly, he had a packageto put together and drop off for Mara. Whether she loved him for him or not, he had no intention of letting her go.

Mara

I couldn’t remember how I got here, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be here, but I knew with one hundred percent certainty I did not want to be at home.

Not even for Olivia.

I had nothing left to offer, maybe I never did. Barely present, an empty shell, my spirit fragmented and ripped apart, only ever defined by those around me, and altogether replaceable. I existed like a ghost in the wind, blown here and there by the demon inside me. I breathed, I endured, yearning for a reprieve that never prevailed.

Here, I was protected from narcissistic mothers and overly affectionate co-workers. I shuddered at the memory of the younger, thinner, perkier, redhead, seeing her lean in close to him, press her cheek against his, her lips... My stomach churned and tears of rage burned my throat. I curled my hands into fists, breathed deep. This was no way to live.

I was done with him. For many reasons. First and foremost, I reasoned to myself, I brought nothing to the table, and I didn’t want to be in an unequal relationship, one where I was unloved and unwanted. I did not blame him; I was a mess. He deserved better.He deserved someone that didn't make him feel nervous and on edge. He deserved someone safe.

Secondly, I could no longer stand the power he held over me. Sex with him was the only thing that made me feel better, and he doled it out on a restricted budget that barely took the edge off my hunger and left me with cravings too much of the time. The constant rejection had crushed my already meager self-esteem, and my battered heart was shattered. I deserved someone safe, too.

Third, although seeing someone touch him enraged me, worse than that was seeing his disappointment in me. It elicited such deep feelings of self-hatred that I marked myself worse than I ever had before.

I was sick of not being good enough. It was not healthy, I needed to get away from him. I wanted peace in my life. I wanted away from my mother, and I didn’t want to be in love with Zale anymore. I couldn’t think about leaving Olivia, but I believed she would be better off without me.

I shared a room with another woman, thankfully, a quiet woman. She lay curled on her cot most of the day. We were like mirrored images, lying curled on our cots, our backs to each other, on opposite sides of a nightstand in a tiny room with the furniture bolted to the floor, the lamp, which didn’t have a fucking lightbulb, bolted to the table. I thought idly that I should have done this with Olivia’s room when she went through those two years of aggression.

We were forced to participate in group sessions once a day for an hour, we had to take our meal with the others, and we had our private therapeutic sessions twice a day that were likewise mandatory. I liked my nurse well enough, but I would have much preferred Erin. I wonder if anybody notified her. I’d be out of here before my next appointment, so I’d catch her up then. I think we needed to move up my boundary work, I snorted to myself.

A knock sounded on the open door. “Mara, you have a visitor.”

I turned to look at the attendant. “Who?”

“Your husband is here again. He’s in the waiting room.”

“I don’t want to see him.” I especially didn’t want him to see me. I turned back around.

“In your file he’s listed as your emergency contact. Are you sure you don’t want to see him?”

I faced her again. “I’ll change my emergency contact to my sister, Willa. When can I do that?”

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