Page 19 of Meet Me at Christmas
Henry jumped into the driver’s seat. He grabbed her by the waist, nibbling her neck, making her laugh. “Tobias owes me twenty bucks and I know where he’s going. It’s on the way home anyway.”
While Stella fumbled for her seat belt, Henry took off, following the truck out of town, both gaining speed as they hit the dirt road.
“You ain’t gettin’ away that fast!” Henry yelled out the window.
Stella could see Tobias’s wide smile in his rearview mirror as they closed in on him.
“All this over twenty dollars?” she asked with a giggle. Her hair blew out the open window, the wind rippling her sundress.
“It was a good game of pool.”
She reached over and put her hand on the gold stubble of his face. “You don’t need those twenty bucks,” she said. “You’ve got all you need right here.”
Those sapphire eyes landed on her. Tobias’s truck pulled away, leaving a cloud of dust between the two vehicles as Henry’s decelerated to a stop.
“You’re right,” he said before pulling her in for another kiss. “I hope the two of us drive this road together until we’re so old we can’t even see it anymore.” Then he hit the gas again, making her yelp in surprise. “I can see it now, though!”
She laughed again, pawing for the door handle to steady herself.
They bumped down the lane kicking up dust behind them, the buttercups sliding past on both sides in a yellow blur as they sped into the sunset.
* * *
“Do you feel any other emotions right now?” the therapist asked, cutting into Stella’s memory.
“Angry,” he whispered.
“Can you tell me why you feel angry? Are you able to pinpoint the catalyst for your frustration?”
“I wake up every morning and I don’t remember what I like to do and what I don’t. I have no friends here that I can recall because I don’t know who I was still friends with as an adult, and even when I try to connect with people from my old life, they feel like complete strangers. That’s frustrating.”
“I can imagine.”
Stella, who’d been working to get herself together, jotted down the notes, taking advantage of this moment of transparency from Henry. At least they were getting somewhere today. Even if it was utter torture to relive the wonderful days before she’d ruined everything.
“I’d like you to try to compartmentalize the side of you that you don’t remember. Let’s focus on the person you are now. What do you like to do first when you wake up in the morning?”
“Eat.”
A huff of laughter unexpectedly escaped Stella’s lips. She pretended to cough to cover it up when both heads turned toward her. “Sorry,” she said. He always liked to eat right away—as soon as his feet hit the floor. He was a bottomless pit in the morning. She dared not think about how he used to bring her breakfast in bed…
Ms. Weixel offered her a gracious smile before she turned back to Henry and continued. “What you might discover is that the things you like and do now could be the same things you did before the accident. You can find peace in the routines that come naturally for you.”
Henry didn’t respond, but the tightness in his jaw lessened, and Stella wondered if Ms. Weixel’s suggestion had helped him. She jotted it down in her notes, thinking it would be a good strategy to research, to see if there was any further information on channeling natural routines.
The rest of the therapy session was devoted to strategies for emotional regulation, where the therapist assisted Henry in finding a quiet spot where he could go if he felt overwhelmed, labeling his emotions, sitting with those emotions, and pinpointing his triggers. Even though he was participating, a couple times he peered over at Stella and shook his head subtly to let her know he wasn’t buying any of it.
When the session was over, he gathered his coat and hat, and rushed out.
“Sorry if I disturbed the session today,” Stella said to the therapist.
Ms. Weixel smiled at her. “It was interesting. I noticed how he reacts to you. Your presence seems to bring his frustration down.”
“Really?” Stella put on her coat and slipped her handbag onto her shoulder.
“He didn’t shout once today, and he frequently does. He was also much more open than he usually is.”
They walked toward the door, and Stella couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe—somehow—Henry might be okay.
