All For Anna (39 page)

“Hey Tori, everything
okay?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you. I just
had some paperwork I wanted to turn in for the Consider Africa program,” I
said.

Her eyes lit up and her
smile grew wide, “That’s wonderful Tori, how exciting for you. It must be nice,
having no strings attached. A lot of gals your age are already so tied down.
I’ll fax this over ASAP. They should be sending you some additional information
to explain the rest of their procedures, along with your acceptance into the
program. I know you’ll have a phone interview for sure, along with a list of
vaccines to schedule. Wow, in just six weeks, you could be in Africa!”

I swallowed hard before
responding, “Thanks Meg, I look forward to hearing from them.”

I handed her the
papers, feeling a rush of nerves hit my gut at once. I tried to shake the
unsettled feeling as I left her office, but it continued all the way out into
the parking lot.

I heard her words again
in my head and cringed.

‘Must be nice, having
no strings attached...’  

If only I felt the
same.

Careful to navigate my
way back to my car and avoid the ice, I imagined the heat of Africa and the
children I would get to help. I thought of the team I’d work with and the
techniques I’d learn. There were many things to be excited about, many new
challenges and discoveries that awaited my arrival.

I just needed to figure
out how to tell my family; the clock was ticking in more ways than one.

**********

I awoke to the strong
smell of cleaning supplies. A lemon scent mixed with the menthol of mouth wash
filled the air as I made my way down the stairs. Stacie—hair in a headband with
blond curls flinging left to right—was cleaning the stove top. She was in
Jack’s sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that read
Go Organic
on the
front. I stifled a laugh at the site of her.

She had been in quite a
mood lately and joking about her attire wouldn’t bode well for me. I waited to
speak till she saw me. I didn’t want the charge of sneaking up on her added to
my rap sheet.

“Hey Stace, how long
have you been cleaning, this morning?” I asked.

Stacie glanced behind
her at the clock on the wall, “A couple hours. I’m not sleeping well these days
and there is
a lot
that has to be done around here.”

I looked around at the
practically spotless house and decided not to argue with her. Instead, I asked
how I could help.

“I actually made a list
last night. I’m going to check things off as I go. Most of it I should probably
just do myself,” she said.

I nodded, uncertain of
my next response.

If I told her I’d like
to help anyway, she might think I felt she was incapable, which of course,
wasn’t the case. However, if I agreed to let her work alone, she might think I
was uncaring. It was a precarious situation for sure. I tried a mixed approach.
At least that way she’d have to think about
which
offense she’d grab a
hold of
. 

“You know, that’s a
really good plan. You’re so detail-oriented, Stace. I’m sure you just want to
get everything right. I’d love to help with anything you need though, so just
let me know.”

She stared at me for a
long second. I braced for the fall-out. She smiled then, and put her hand on
her hip, “Thanks Tori, I’ll do that. I appreciate your offer.”

Phew. Close one.

I made myself a pot of
coffee and sat down at the counter, watching her scrub with her made-from-the-earth
products. I’d made a goal to tell Stacie about Africa today, but the reality of
the moment was much harder than I’d anticipated. Instead, I brought up her baby
shower this coming Saturday. Hard to believe her due date was less than four
weeks away now.

“Are you getting
excited for your shower?” I asked.

“Yes and no. I feel
like a whale...and I’m kicking myself for not pushing Mom to do it before the
holidays,” she said.

“Oh, Stace...you still
look really great, no one is going to think you look like a whale.”

She shot me a death
glare that almost knocked me off my stool.

What did I say?

“I didn’t say I ‘looked
like a whale’...I said, I ‘felt like a whale’! But I guess I should worry about
that
now, too,” Stacie huffed.

Shoot
.

“Stace...that’s not
what I...I mean, you look beautiful,” I said, smiling to cover my panic.

She turned and opened
the cabinet drawers, dumping out the cooking utensils to organize them by size.
I took my leave then, glad I chose to abandon the conversation about Africa.
Maybe I should wait for Jack to be present; it would be safer that way, for
everyone.

**********

I layered my shirts,
doubled my socks, and pulled on a down-vest over my hooded sweatshirt. Due to
the road conditions, I couldn’t run on the pavement. Jack told me another ice
storm was on its way over the weekend, so I knew I needed to get out today. I
headed to the local high school track. The dirt and grass were much safer than
the roads.

I ran the giant oval
three times before I started to feel warmth return to my legs and chest again.
My cadence was sluggish at first, labored due to the intensity of the chill in
the air. I emptied my distracted mind in order to focus on each step, pushing
myself forward, relieving the stress in my body.

The fog was low and the
visibility poor, but in a strange way it brought me comfort. There was no sound
other than my breath to be heard on the track. In this silence I found peace—no
distractions, no voices, no impending announcements to be made.

After another three
times around the track I quickened my pace. I stared out into the field,
watching the fog roll by. While staying clear of Africa and clearer still of a
certain Samoan, I let my mind wander.

An image seared itself
into my mind: the letter.

I had seen it every day
since the day I had written it, and every day I made a new plan for its
delivery. But just like the Africa conversation, it too, had been aborted time
and time again for some reason or another. It was worn now, crumpled from being
smashed inside my purse by keys and protein bars.

Someday soon.

I thought about my
upcoming appointment with Dr. Crane. Would she be disappointed that I hadn’t
done it yet, or were my other stories of progress enough for one appointment?
Maybe she could offer me some inspiration. I needed it.

The most difficult
words I’d ever speak were on those pages.

I ran around the track
another time, contemplating my options. Regardless of my excuses, there was but
one timeline that would have the final say—
Africa
. I wouldn’t leave
without doing it; I couldn’t leave without doing it.

By the time I got back
to my car, I had made my decision. After the baby shower on Saturday was over,
I’d have my date with the letter.

And then, the last two
names would finally be crossed off my list.

The difference was
noticeable.

I’d wondered when Dr.
Crane gave me the journal before Christmas if something had changed in our
relationship. Now I was sure. Her gift had
softened
me that day. No
longer was I the broken mess she had met months ago, and no longer did I
despise her office.

When I looked at Dr.
Crane now, only one word came to mind:
friend
.

She would always hold
the respect of a doctor in my eyes. She was a wise woman by anyone’s standard,
but there was a new sweetness that now stretched between us today. I was
grateful for it.

She asked me several
questions regarding the holidays, to which I offered light answers. Those were
some of the hardest days I had faced to date. She shared briefly about her trip
to the Caribbean with her kids and grandkids and then grabbed her notepad,
indicating it was time to get down to business.

Before I began, I
realized the majority of what I was about to share I hadn’t told anyone. I felt
a pang of shame go through me as I thought about each topic on my mind. My
promise to keep my family in the loop had waned considerably since before
Christmas. I had felt justified in my with-holdings due in part to Dr. Crane’s
extended holiday, but that was a weak excuse for the truth.

How can I really think
I’m making progress if I’m hiding again?

The question made me
shiver. I didn’t want to think about going backward, it was too overwhelming.
Dr. Crane looked at me puzzled, waiting for me to share. I cleared my throat
and began.

I started with the
phone call to Dr. Bradley. As one of her personal friends, I realized Dr. Crane
might already know about this conversation, but she listened patiently like
usual. She complimented me on my bravery and willingness to step out and make
amends. Her encouragement felt good. I moved on.

Recounting the
confrontation with my mother was more involved. She let me share the entire
conversation before asking any questions—some more direct than others.

“How are things between
you two now, Tori? How are you walking forward in this resolve?”

I thought for a minute
before answering, “We’ve talked briefly on the phone a couple of times and I’m
making four dozen cupcakes for Stacie’s baby shower tomorrow which my mom is
hosting. I guess I’m just trying to be more understanding,” I said, honestly.

“That’s good. I would
challenge you, though, in order for a relationship to progress, you must invest
more than just a few
brief
conversations. You need to show some more
vulnerability with her at some point,” she said.

I swallowed hard.

Why was that still so
hard for me?

“What are you thinking
about right now, Tori?” she asked.

“I...I’m wondering why
that still seems so foreign to me...why I’d still rather process everything on
my own,” I said.

She smiled knowingly,
“Because you’re re-learning how to connect with people, how to trust them, how
to let them trust you. That’s all normal. It shows more progress than you might
think. You wouldn’t have even asked that question a few months ago.”

She was right, I
wouldn’t have. I nodded, hoping she was right about the rest as well.

“What else
happened...you seem to have lots on your mind today,” she said.

Geesh, she would be
great at poker.

“I talked to Kai...
twice
.”

Her eyebrows rose in
surprise, but she said nothing.

“We talked on New
Year’s Eve and I told him that I forgave him, and that I believed his intention
was never to hurt me,” I said. As I spoke his name, the old familiar ache came
back. I took a deep breath.

“And what happened,
what was his response to that?” she asked.

I hesitated, a war
waging within me. There were many things about that night I replayed: his song,
his jacket, our kiss. But recalling his words to me was the most painful of all,
without a doubt. To share them meant to relive them.

 I rubbed my palms on
my knees. The pressure seemed to trigger a response.

“He told me he loved
me, that he wanted to be with me, that he would wait for me to figure out
whatever I needed to...and then I told him goodbye.”

Empathy
.

A face full of empathy
stared back at me. I looked at the ground trying not to react, trying not to
feel anything at all. It didn’t work.

“
Why
Tori? Why
did you tell him
goodbye
if you could forgive him?” she asked, the words
soft and meaningful.

“Because...because I
have to do this on my own. He may have helped me find faith, but he can’t be what
helps me find closure with Anna or myself. I’m not going to be around for much
longer anyway...” I let my voice trail off. 

She looked at me in
surprise. I bit my cheeks.

“Excuse me? What are
you referencing?”

“I signed up for the
Consider
Africa
program. If I’m accepted, I’ll leave March first,” I said.

If the recounting of my
conversation with Kai had been a surprise to her, this was a shock. She took a
deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before speaking. It was the first time
I’d seen her physically tense, the first time I’d seen anything but
professionalism from the woman sitting across from me. Her eyes lacked their
usual pleasant curiosity when she opened them. Instead, they were narrowed and
hard.

“Please explain this to
me, Tori.
Why
, when you’re having so many breakthroughs, and gaining
back
valuable
relationships in your life, would you think it was a good
time to move continents?”