Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95393 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
The rest of the meeting is just everyone talking about how they can get the person they love help. How they’ve tried countless times, again and again, and have come up empty-handed. When I finally walk out of there and get in the car, I think I’m about to have my first serious nervous breakdown. I put my hands in front of my face when the sobs come, and my phone rings at the same time. The speakers in the car tell me, “Dr. Mendes calling.”
“Hello,” I answer, my voice breaking.
“I guess I called right on time,” she replies softly.
“How did you know?”
“I knew you were going to the meeting today, and I was wondering how it went.”
“It was fucking brutal. So many stories about how people got better, and the only thing I could think about is, why the fuck didn’t Benji want to be better?”
“Maybe he didn’t know how?” She tries to answer my question with another.
“Well, he should have. If not for me or him, then for our girls,” I snap. “He chose drugs over everything.” My voice goes louder. “Who does that?”
“An addict,” she says softly. “You can sit down and ask the ‘why me’ question each time and hope he somehow answers you.”
“I have to accept that my husband was sick,” I admit softly. “That what he had was a sickness.” I swallow. “A disease.”
“I think if you are going to heal, you need to work on forgiving him before anything else.”
“Yeah, easier said than done. I feel sorry for him for about two point five minutes before the sorrow turns to plain-out anger that he did what he did.”
“I want you to start a list,” she suggests. “A to-do list. One thing on that list should be something to do for the kids, and one thing has to be something to do for you. Not for you that includes the kids. But just for you. Like go for a bike ride for an hour or have a picnic with yourself while the girls are at school. It has to be something for you and no one else.”
“I haven’t done something for myself in a long time,” I admit.
“Well, now is the time to start.”
“Take charge of my life,” I agree with her.
“We can call it whatever you want to call it. We can discuss it on Friday.” I can see her smile at me.
“Sounds good. Thank you for checking up on me.”
“It was my pleasure, Koda.” She hangs up the phone as I pull out of the parking lot. Going to the supermarket, I pick up things for dinner before stopping to grab myself some flowers because I’ve never bought myself flowers, and I like how they look.
When I get the kids from school and daycare, the first thing Rain asks is if I called Christopher. I know I can’t put it off for much longer. So when I’ve started dinner, I pick up the phone.
Pulling up the text chain of the two of us. Lately, I’ve answered him with a we are all good but thanks for asking. He still calls daily. I still don’t answer him, but I’ve started answering his texts.
Me: Hey, I have a question for you.
I put the phone down, thinking he’ll text me when he has a minute, but instead of texting me, my phone rings, and I see it’s Christopher. “Hello.” I put the phone to my ear while I pull out the chicken casserole I put together when we got home.
“Hey,” he says, and it sounds like he’s walking, “what’s up?”
“You didn’t have to call.” I chuckle. “It could have waited.”
“For you to change your mind and then say forget it?” He laughs, and I have to remember that he knows me and has known me for a really long time. “What can I help you with?”
“Do you know of any skating classes?” I ask, holding the phone with my shoulder as I put the casserole dish on the stovetop. “Rain really wants to go skating.”
“What are you guys doing now?” he asks.
“We’re just about to eat.” I look down at the casserole dish, the steam hitting my face. “Why?”
“I can see if I can get some ice time at the rink I go practice at,” he says, “but if it’s too close to dinner.”
“What about after?” The words come out of my mouth and shock not only Christopher but me. “See if you can get some time after. If you can, why don’t you come and eat?” He stays silent. “Unless you have dinner plans with someone else.”
“No, I have nothing planned. Give me five, maybe less.”
“Okay,” I agree, putting the phone on the counter. It takes him two minutes to call me back. “That was fast.”
“He answered my call,” he jokes with me. “You should try it sometime.”