Page 13 of If Our Hearts Collide

As predicted, guilt strikes me right in the heart.

Ivan was being thoughtful.

“Well, what is it?” Momma bounces on her feet, trying to get a better look.

I pull out the hoodie shirt that has the Colombian flag printed along the front. It is lightweight enough for cooler summer nights. “I love it.”

“Ivan has been working under Dad at the office.”

“Oh, yeah?” I feign interest. I have to balance between being nice and trying not to give my momma some type of illusion. I honestly have no clue what she actually tells her friend and what could potentially get back to Ivan.

“So, maybe him mentoring someone young and fresh will help him step away from the business.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I still am holding out hope that the baby arriving will make him want to slow down.”

“That’s a good point.” And probably a step in the right direction. Dad deserves to rejuvenate with much-needed time off and enjoy his next season in life.

I pack up the food and then grab a can of sparkling orange juice from the fridge. I turn back to Momma, who is sorting out a stack of mail that is resting on the counter.

“I still can’t believe Nic is on board with Claire’s desire to wait until delivery to find out the gender. Or maybe he paid off the ultrasound tech just to know ahead of time. It’s not like he or Graham have any patience when it comes to things they cannot control.”

Waving some junk mail into the air, Momma lets out a laugh. “Well, both boys have met their match with their ladies. Serves them right for all of the stress they caused me over the years. Getting pregnant with you was the universe’s way of giving me some balance.”

I smile. My brothers deserve happiness, and they sure found it with the women who have consumed their hearts. “I’m just glad neither had to be bailed out of prison.”

“Ha, I wouldn’t place a bet on that. You know how hotheaded they can get when it comes to those they love.”

“Yup.” I nod in agreement. “They have quite the reputation at the facility.”

Momma smiles. “Oh, without a doubt. You know every gray hair that I try to hide on my head was caused by them. I blame them for everything. It’s how I cope.”

I giggle and move over to the back door. At least I can find some small amount of humor in my life. “I can only imagine the impressions they’ve made when I wasn’t around to witness their behavior.”

Momma looks to be deep in thought. “It’s probably for the best we never find out.”

I slip on my pink Converse shoes and grab the tote bag I have hanging on a hook. I double-check that my journal and pen are inside. Part of my ongoing therapy sessions involve self-reflecting and understanding my triggers that make me shut down. I’d like to think that all of the self-talk I do has been helping, but honestly, some days I doubt I’ll ever go back to being the carefree Penny who used to trust everyone—especially men—without reservation.

Maybe I should stop trying to go back to being my old self and just learn to get to know the new me. So much has changed that I’m not even sure I can knit the two versions together.

“Oh, here, Penny. This just came in the mail. Dad had some sent to the house to check the quality before distributing them to the masses. Maybe you’d be interested?”

Turning around, I take the flyer from Momma’s extended hand and look down at it. “Oh, the annual charity auction for Dad’s work. I missed last year’s…”

“But you can attend this one if you want,” Momma quickly interjects, her voice hopeful and jolly.

“Yeah,” I say, almost as an afterthought. I tuck the oversized postcard into my journal, so I can look at it later.

I wave to Momma and slip out the door, with my packed bag and a rolled-up blanket tucked under my arm. The smellof jasmine and freesia overwhelms my senses, as the rush of sweetness fills up my nostrils.

When I make it down to the patio, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over me. That’s what this place does to me. It provides the perfect dose of nostalgia, paired with the safety net of having two parents who love me dearly.

The pool’s surface glistens in the sun. Bending down, I glide my hand through the water, testing its temperature. It’s just right. Maybe later I’ll take a dip.

When I was getting treatment, I often spent my days outside in the sunshine. Soulful Mind is one of the top places in the country for mental trauma and rehabilitative services. While I didn’t particularly enjoy being there, it was a way of overcoming some of the hurdles keeping me from living a full life again.

But it still feels like I’m lacking the passion and drive to do more than just mope around and sleep. I guess it could be depression? Although, I really don’t feel sad. Maybe I’m just lonely—or bored.

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