Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
So we’re a lot alike, then. My mom and I. We both pretended to be okay. We both were living a lie.
And for the first time ever, I feel like my mom’s daughter. As painful as it was to hear, this story brought us closer.
“You look like him. You always did. Brown hair with golden strands that look blonde and chocolate brown eyes. It was hard for me to look at you. To look at the reminder of my broken dream. It’s not an excuse but I want you to know that. I want you to know why I was an awful mother to you. Because I was in love with your father. Maybe I still am.”
She wipes my tears off and it causes this wound in my chest, my soul to gape open. He does that.
He wipes my tears off, even if he’s the one to give them to me.
Swallowing, I grab her hand and squeeze, my already broken heart breaking for her a little. “Thanks for telling me.”
She blinks back her tears. “You can’t be like me, Violet. Do you understand? I won’t let you be like me. He’s not coming back, Vi. He’s not coming back for you. He called me, remember? He told me where you were. He sent you away. You have to give up hope, okay? Give it up. You have to pick up the pieces and move on because if you don’t, you’ll end up like me.”
This isn’t the first time that she’s said it. Give up hope, I mean.
She told me this five days ago when she suddenly came to Colorado.
After Graham left in his truck and I ran after him, she found me in the woods. She lifted me up, helped me up to the house, calmed my sobs down. She packed my bags while I just sat there on the couch, wondering what just happened.
When she told me that we were leaving, I refused. I told her that he’d come back and we’d talk and all of this would be over.
Surprisingly, she agreed and we waited.
We sat there for hours, with my journals scattered around us – I didn’t let her pack those.
Give up hope, Violet, she said, after a while. He isn’t coming back. I know men like him. He’s a predator who’s looking for innocent girls like you.
I asked her then, about the article in the paper and if she was behind it. She said yes.
“And now, you have proof. You’ve seen it with your own eyes that he’s not coming back. He discarded you. So let’s go. Don’t pin your hopes on him.”
To make her happy and to not argue with her anymore, I did leave. But I didn’t give up hope.
I haven’t. I won’t.
I trust him.
As crazy as that sounds after what happened. After he pulled that move on me, called my mother like that.
But the thing is: I didn’t before. I didn’t trust him, not completely – he was right. I hid things from him and I lied to him because even after everything he did for me, there was a teeny-tiny part of me that thought he’d be like everyone else in my life. I was too scared.
I’m not scared now.
I mean, I am. Of course I am, a little. But I’m choosing to be brave. I’m choosing to be what he made me realize I am.
I even tell Nelson that when I go for our session. We sit on our respective couches and he smiles at me.
I smile back.
Then he inches up his glasses and asks in his friendly, non-threatening voice, “So how was yoga camp?”
There’s an amused glint in his eyes and I let out a broken laugh.
Moon and magic.
I hear his words in my ears and the answer slips out. “Magical.”
“Was it?”
I nod, picking at the threads on his sofa. “I learned a lot.”
“What did you learn?”
I glance up at him. “That I’m in love with a man who ended up sending me away.”
He nods at that, gravely. “How do you feel about him now?”
I shrug. “I love him. I know he’ll be back.”
Nelson pauses. I know that pause. He’s deliberating, trying to come up with a way to break bad news to me.
These might be just crutches, Violet. These might be keeping you from dealing with the real issue.
“What if he doesn’t?”
I know what he means.
I’ve been to enough therapists and doctors to know that they don’t tell you to do things. They ask you questions and give you a chance to realize things on your own.
Oh, and they are realists.
They want you to have realistic expectations. They want you to make goals and wish for things that you can make happen. They want you to have control of your thoughts and your actions. Because they want you to live a healthy life.