Page 69 of Breathe Again

“Yes. That probably contributed.” Willa’s face hardened. “But Willa, same goes for her. Genetics and trauma of some kind contributed to her being who and how she is. The difference between her and I, is that she will probably never understand she needs help and will continue to live in a relational desert, whereas I can get help, do better, and stop hurting the people I love most.”

“You’ve always been too compassionate with that woman,” Bex huffed, “but your empathy is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received from anyone. So, we’ll protect you from the Big Bad Wolf and you just keep being you.”

“That’s actually what I need from you guys right now.” They couldn’t have given me a better lead-in. “My therapist recommended that I surround myself with truth-tellers to counteract the alternate realities my mom recites.”

“The gaslighting.” Willa shuddered.

“Yes. Also, she alternates between positive behavior and negative behavior, so I never can quite figure her out.”

“It’s called hoovering, or love-bombing maybe, I can’t remember, but it’s a classic cycle of abuse. I’ll brush up on that to help you recognize it.” Willa made a note on her phone. “It’s basically them sucking you back in with kindness and generosity before they revert back to criticism and gaslighting. Gaslighting is its own special form of abuse, Mara, our mother specializes in this. She also triangulates, or tries to, but it didn’t work because of our bond. If she hadn’t made you babysit me so much so she could do what she wanted, she mighthave succeeded. But that bond, and your loving nature, won out. Thank God.”

“You must have felt so alone. Willa.”

She shrugged. “I had dad when he wasn’t under her influence, and I always had you.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Willa leaned in. “It’s better than what you had. You were her confidant. She groomed you to be her support system. That’s terrifying to me.”

“And, so, here you are, babe, because of it.” Bex cocked her head to the side, I smiled inside seeing her picking up on one of Rhys’ traits. “You do need truth-tellers around you because your compassion interferes in your ability to protect yourself, from your mother at least.”

“This is true.”

“Lay it out for me. What do you need?”

“I need to talk through what I’m learning. I need to build a sense of personal identity. I need to put my therapy into action. I need to learn to calm my emotions. I think that’s it to start.”

Bex held out her hand. “Let me take a look at your papers.”

I handed them over and she quickly rifled through, her eyebrows snapping together comically and scarily at the same time in her pixieface. She faced me, waving the papers in front of her face. “What the hell is all this redacted shit?”

I barked out a laugh, I couldn’t help it. Willa chuckled beside me, Bex started to smile.

“You did ask for truth-tellers, Mara.” Willa turned to Bex, her tone dry as dust. “I think you’ve got that part covered.”

Bex started laughing, too. “I’m the worst, honestly.”

“Remember on your first date with Rhys you offered to let him fuck you against the side of his truck when you ran into his ex-girlfriend?”

As soon as the words left my lips, Willa screamed with laughter.

“Or when you told me I was a fashion disaster setting Olivia up for failure?”

We laughed, hard, belly rolling, knee slapping, gut clenching, jaw aching, laughter. Tears, the good kind, streamed down our faces.

“Can you guys be a bit quieter?!” Olivia’s strident voice rang out from the sunroom.

“Sorry, little bird,” I shouted back, at the same time as Bex yelled ‘sorry, beautiful girl’ and Willa replied, ‘yes, Birdy.’

“Babe, go print off the entire thing, two copies, and don’t think I won’t be cross-checking on google.”

I printed off two copies of the unredacted version, one for each of them. We decided on monthly get-togethers, to officially go overwhat I was learning, together, and decided for the time being that I’d talk through interactions with my mom with Bex or Willa, gaining their insight, wisdom, and clarity.

The rest of the visit was much more pleasant, and we made plans for the weekend, which included going out for lunch and shopping with Willa for her birthday.

Zale walked in from work just as we were finishing. I watched him approach, his loose rolling gait, his finger hooked into his tie, pulling to loosen it, his five o’clock shadow adding to his broodiness. Yum. He stopped beside me, and I raised my face to look at him.

“You good?” His dark chocolate eyes, framed by those black curling lashes, melted all over my face.

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