Page 18 of Meet Me at Christmas
She looked away and opened her laptop.
“I have no idea what you’re going to get from sitting in on this. It’s a total crock,” he said.
“Glad we’re all here,” Ms. Weixel interrupted, swishing into the room. “How are we today?”
Henry stared at the therapist, silent.
“We’re safe and healthy—that’s good,” Ms. Weixel said.
Henry exhaled and Stella typed:Gonna be a fun morning.
“Okay.” Ms. Weixel walked over to the counter and picked up the office iPad. “Yesterday you mentioned your frustration with this situation. I think it might be helpful if we delve into emotional regulation today.”
The therapist sat in the chair opposite the sofa and then filled in some information on the tablet, while Stella typedEmotional Regulationas a header on her document. Henry’s gaze moved from the therapist to her, their typing seeming to irritate him.
Ms. Weixel looked at up. “I understand that this is frustrating, Henry. But your reality is that you’re safe, out of harm’s way, and with people you can trust.”
At the wordtrust, Stella held her breath, her cheeks flaming with heat. If he could remember, he might not agree with that statement. She bit her lip, their final moment under the oak tree floating back into her memory. He turned his attention to her, curiosity in his stare. She looked back down at her laptop.
“It’s important that we begin to challenge those initial feelings of anger,” Ms. Weixel continued. “Let’s see if we can attempt to reframe your perspective.”
Henry rolled his gaze from Stella to Ms. Weixel.
“How do you feel right now?”
He looked back over at Stella, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion, not responding to the therapist’s question.
“Can you label your current emotion?” Ms. Weixel pushed on.
Stella silently urged him to answer.
“Lost,” he finally said without looking away from Stella.
Her heart breaking for him, she almost forgot she was taking notes. Quickly, she typed his response, considering how bewildered he’d been the day she left him. Feeling lost probably wasn’t much of a change from then, although that was for a different reason. At the young age of eighteen, she’d imagined they would both move on, get over the breakup, and one day, when they were in their mid-forties, maybe they could laugh about it. What she hadn’t planned for was the hole it left in her heart and the way she’d compared everyone she’d dated since to him.
“Good answer. That’s a very honest response.” Ms. Weixel clasped her hands together. “Can you elaborate?”
“Sometimes I feel like the military fits me and sometimes I don’t.”
“What part of it fits you?” the therapist asked.
“The thrill of the hunt. But other than that, I’m… confused. A job in the military is such an honorable thing; it isn’t something to take lightly. But I have this strange feeling that I just jumped into it without realizing what it entailed. I can’t put my finger on what the feeling is exactly. But it’s as if I don’t understand myself or my motives.”
“Okay,” Ms. Weixel said, “well, rather than going straight into the things that confuse you, let’s focus on the things about your personality that you are sure of. When do you feel the calmest?”
Henry glanced at Stella again, and she wondered if her being there might be impeding his recovery, but then he answered.
“Sometimes I drive along the dirt road by our farm. On sunny days, I roll down the windows and punch the gas. That seems like me… whoever I am these days.”
Stella dipped her head behind her laptop, pretending to type as an unexpected prick of tears surprised her. She recalled a long-ago day when she’d leaned against his tailgate and he’d brushed a curl out of her face before leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.
* * *
“Yeeew!” Henry’s friend Tobias yelled from the open passenger window of another truck as it sped past, distracting them.
“Hang on one second.” Henry took Stella’s hand and brought her over to the open door. “Hop in!”
She climbed up and scooted to the passenger side.
