Page 47 of Implode

“I think”—I know—“there’s something wrong with me.”

“And why do you say that?”

“I damage everyone who comes in my path.”

Dr. Zimmerman glances at a file folder. “Actually, based on your intake form you filled out and submitted, you have plenty of people who haven’t experienced the damage from you that you’ve claimed. Your mother, your sister, and your soon to be sister-in-law all have experienced your compassion and mercy. So the question is, why do you punish the women who you seek sexual gratification from? And more importantly, how do we channel that toxic energy over to something that can morph into a positive end goal?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“And that’s where I think we should begin.”

13

CLAIRE

I take my window seat in the front of the plane and relax into the leather seat. It was a surprise to hear my name announced over the intercom to come to the boarding station and get informed that I was eligible for a free upgrade for today’s flight. No one in their right mind would turn such a gift down, so I graciously accepted. Despite having a rough start to the day, maybe things are finally looking up for me.

I pull out my journal and jot down some of the things I want to accomplish while at home. Besides the obvious, I would like to visit a few of my favorite spots in town and maybe even head into DC to visit a museum or two. The cool thing about being so close to a metropolitan area is the rich exposure to a vast amount of cultures and ethnicities all at once. Maybe it’s time to learn about my Filipino roots, even if just in the general sense. Plus, it would be nice to make a good memory to counterbalance the bad memories that I’m sure will take place around my parents. There is too much toxicity when they are in the picture.

I can’t stay long in Virginia because I am anxious to get back to work on the subscription boxes for Plus None, but I also don’t need to rush. Angie has made it clear that time away from work is healthy. I would just prefer if this trip was better planned and not a last-minute thing. Besides the flight costing more than normal, I’m not exactly sure what the dynamics will be between my parents. The uncertainty gives me a bit of anxiety. Even though my dad is really a stepdad, he is the only thing I had growing up filling that role. Now that I’m an adult, however, he doesn’t have to censor his true emotions toward me. In simplest terms, I am the catalyst in why his marriage has crumbled. Maybe he would still be with my mom if he didn’t have the concrete proof that she cheated.

I am strong.

I can handle whatever gets thrown my way.

While I may be the catalyst in the divorce, I am not the reason. This is one hundred percent on my mom. I never asked to be born. I didn’t have a choice.

I take a few deep breaths as I finish my journaling and move on to people watching. As seats get filled, I can’t help but watch and admire the couples who board the aircraft. Love is a beautiful thing, and to travel with your partner seems so fun.

It is the metallic sound of fake laughter that signifies the new arrival. I look over the seat in front of me to find Tara Lonsinger walking onto the plane. You have got to be kidding me. What are the flipping chances? I guess I should be relieved she is not planning on lingering in Portland any longer than is necessary. I wouldn’t put it past her to break into Nic’s apartment and accidentally find herself nude under his sheets. I used to think the over-the-top stereotypes for the desperate girls in movies were fake. Then I encountered Tara. She has fulfilled every one of the mean girls’ characteristics. I may have what people label as “daddy issues,” but Tara has “human decency issues” which no amount of therapy can fix. She is rotten to the core, and until she comes face-to-face with how she treats people, then there’s no cure. When someone refuses to take responsibility for their actions, then I lump them into the box I labeledHopeless.

I look at the empty seat beside me and start tossing my purse, sweater, and carry-on onto it. I am about as graceful about it as a baby giraffe learning to walk.Avoid eye contact.Avoid it at all costs. I pull out the pamphlet from the pocket of the seat in front of me and start to read about what to do if I feel the need to throw up while in the air. What the hell? I turn the paper over and see the insulated bag attached with the bendable metal clip at the top. Lovely.

Maybe Tara is in another section, and I don’t have anything to worry about. I am not even sure how seating arrangements work on this flight. Is it too late for a sliver of hope?

“This is my seat.”

The tinny tone causes goose bumps to creep up my skin. It is almost an unnatural sound, like the ones mechanically produced using digital sound technology. I know she has a future career in doing voice-overs for animated movies—the ones featuring obnoxious female dogs. She would be perfect.

I glance up to see Tara tapping her foot with one hand on her hip and the other hand waving her boarding pass in the air. I clear out the seat and pop my buds into my ears. I just need to zone her out. There is no point rehashing the past. There is also no point making small talk about the present with someone I never want to be a part of my future. Our so-called friendship ended the day she sabotaged me during a competition and then proceeded to lie to the entire school about it.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and I open the app to see that it is from Nic. He really has a way of catching me off guard.

Nic: Heard you are taking a trip back home. Hope you took your meds.

Claire: I did. Thx.

Nic: Have a safe flight.

I want to text back but also don’t know what to say. There is so much that can be misconstrued during this nonverbal way of communicating, and the last thing I need right now is the stress of erasing boundary lines that I have spent the past week drawing. Although, allowing Nic to get me into his office pretty much destroyed everything. I told myself I would not give in to him. I promised myself that I had more self-control than that. Like magnets, we get pulled together even in the murkiest of situations that life brings. I just can’t keep punishing myself like this and then expect different results. What I am doing to my heart is insane.

I feel Tara shift in her seat and announce, “Smile.”

“What?” I ask, looking over just in time for her to snap an unflattering picture of me and her.

“Sending this to Nic. It’s a great way for him to compare us side by side and see what he is missing out on by not choosing me. You definitely do not age like merlot.” She makes a face at me and then holds her nose with her two fingers. “More like milk,” she snickers.

I shake my head at her and go back to looking out the window. Pretty soon I will have to put my phone in airplane mode and rely on old-fashioned methods to pass the time for the almost five-hour flight. I cannot afford the luxury of in-air Wi-Fi. However, I also cannot afford to shed layers off my eardrum while listening to Tara being a bitch. A message pops up on my screen alerting me to a new text message. I click on the notification and see that it is Nic again.

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