Coming Back To You (6 page)

Karma took a deep breath, willing her
emotions to remain in check. “It’s kind of silly.” She briefly hid
her face in her hands before taking a deep breath and diving in.
“Before Mark and I had sex, he taught me…things.” Her face blazed
with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she was revealing such
intimate moments. “One of the things he taught me was the
difference between a clitoral orgasm and a G-spot orgasm. Before
Mark, I never even knew there was a difference or that there were
different types of orgasms.”

Jan rested her chin on her hand and grinned
as if hearing this story entertained her.

“Anyway, the analogy he used was that a
G-spot orgasm was to a clitoral orgasm what a chocolate chunk
brownie drizzled with warm caramel and vanilla sauce was to a piece
of Dove chocolate. He said that while both were good, one made you
moan while the other just made you smile. He said he was going to
give me a chocolate chunk brownie.”

And he had made good on his promise. Many
times.

Jan’s grin turned into a smile. “I like that.
He has quite a way with words.” Using her stylus, Jan made another
note on her tablet. “But so do you. What you wrote was very
insightful and well written. Have you ever thought about being a
writer?”

“My degree is in journalism.”

Jan made another note. “I see. So, do you
want to write?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you?”

Karma shrugged. “There weren’t any jobs in my
field after graduation.”

“Maybe you could write a book. You don’t have
to work in journalism to write. You just need the desire, a pen,
and a piece of paper. Or a blog,” she added as an afterthought.

Mark had said something similar to her once.
Perhaps they were both right. Maybe her new blog could ease her
into the idea and help her figure out her writing future.

After several seconds of silence, Jan lifted
her tablet again. “Why don’t you tell me what you liked best about
Mark. Why does it hurt so bad that he’s gone?”

Karma dropped her gaze to her lap and picked
at her thumbnail. “He was just different. He made
me
feel
different.”

“How so?”

She remembered the night Mark had stood
behind her in front of her mirror.

“He helped me see myself with new eyes. When
I was a kid, my brother, his friends, and a bunch of my classmates,
teased me. I was a gangly, awkward kid. All arms and legs, no
curves, especially where my breasts were concerned. I developed
late. Kids made fun of me. Not a day went by that someone didn’t
say something about my small breasts or my body.” She frowned as
those old taunts echoed inside her mind. She no longer believed
them, thanks to Mark, but now that he was gone, those naysaying
voices crept back in to chip at her self-esteem. “After I told Mark
about what had happened to me as a kid and how it still affected me
as an adult, he took me to my mirror, stood behind me, and began
ticking off all my features.” She smiled as she remembered his
words. “He told me I have beautiful skin, that my eyes were the
most captivating eyes he’d ever seen, that my body was perfect. As
I looked at my reflection, I began to see myself the way he saw me.
He made me feel beautiful and sexy and desirable, and I’d never
felt that way before.”

“And are you any less beautiful, sexy, and
desirable now that he’s gone?”

Excellent point.

“No.”

“So, Mark opened your eyes to who you really
are. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” Fond memories of their time together
played through her mind. “And it wasn’t just the way I saw my
physical body that he helped change. It was everything. Being with
him made me feel more confident.” She curled her feet under her and
nestled against the arm of the couch. “I don’t know how to explain
it, but he empowered me. He taught me things about life, about sex,
about me and what I want and who I want to be. I began standing up
for myself. All my life, I let people walk all over me. I never
stood up for myself.” Karma grinned at the memory of when she let
loose on that bitch Jolene at work and then again at her parents’
house on Memorial Day. “After I met Mark, all that changed. I
refused to take other people’s shit, anymore.”

“So, Mark helped you find your voice, too?
And he helped you feel more confident, in general?”

“Yes.”

Jan quietly eyed her then said, “Have you
ever considered that maybe Mark’s purpose in your life was simply
to be a catalyst?”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like he brought out the best in
you. He helped you discard old beliefs and old ways of thinking
that weren’t serving you. Maybe that was his purpose in your
life.”

Karma had benefited in so many ways from
knowing Mark. She was a better person now than she had been a year
ago, and it was all because of him. But if he had only been a
stepping-stone for her, wouldn’t that mean she had been the same
for him?

“Well then, what was
my
purpose in
his
life?”

The tiny laugh lines at the outside corners
of Jan’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “That’s for him to find out.
We’re here to help
you
.”

Karma’s brow furrowed as she glanced out the
window at the partially frozen pond. She felt like she was missing
something. Some vital clue about Mark, his intentions, or maybe his
purpose in her life

She didn’t feel as if he’d been
just
a
stepping-stone.

So then…what was he?

By the end of the hour, Karma felt both
relieved and conflicted. As if a weight had been lifted and
another, lighter weight, had replaced it. Recounting the details of
her special times with Mark had ripped her heart open all over
again…and yet healed a tiny piece of it at the same time.

“I want you to keep writing in your blog,”
Jan said, setting her tablet aside. “Every day, even if only a
paragraph or two.”

“Okay.” Karma gathered her purse and dabbed
another tissue on her damp cheeks.

“Also, before our next appointment, I’d like
you to make a list of all the things you enjoyed before you met
Mark. Besides writing, what were you passionate about? Think all
the way back to when you were a kid. What gave you the most
joy?”

Karma tossed the tissue in the trash can. “Do
you want me to write that in my blog, too?”

“That would be perfect.”

Karma’s mind was already sifting through her
memories, trying to come up with all the things she used to like.
Had life really existed before Mark? Sometimes it didn’t feel like
it.

Jan opened the door and led her through the
quaint reception area. “Great session today, Karma. You’re already
making big breakthroughs.”

“Thank you.” Karma pressed her fingertips to
the puffy, heated skin under her eyes. She sure didn’t feel like
she was making progress. In fact, she felt like she was getting
worse.

But then, maybe that was what Jan considered
big breakthroughs. Maybe repairing her wounded emotions was like
rehabbing an old house. She had to tear down all the walls and gut
the place before she could rebuild. She sure felt gutted.

After returning home, Karma slipped into a
pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, grabbed a bag of Doritos, trudged
to the couch, and flopped down on the cushions.

She pointed the remote at the TV and turned
it on.

She was becoming a pro at channel surfing.
She stopped when she reached the Food Network.
The Barefoot
Contessa
was on, demonstrating how to make French-style sole.
Karma’s mouth watered, and she scrunched her nose at the bag of
Doritos before setting it aside. Then she turned up the volume and
watched Ina Garten pour butter sauce over her lightly poached sole
fillets and slip them into the oven.

Hmm, that looks pretty good. Simple,
too.

She used to love cooking, not that she had a
huge repertoire of dishes, but she made a mean homemade
lasagna.

Thinking about the list Jan had asked her to
create at today’s appointment, she grabbed her laptop and pulled up
her blog.

My therapist asked me today to make a list of
everything that gave me joy before I met M. Maybe she thinks if I
remember what made me happy before, I can get back in touch with
those things and be happy again. No matter the reason, if this is
what I have to do to get over M then I’ll do it. I know it’s time I
move on. It’s just hard, especially when I can’t remember what it
was like before I met him. What did I like? What brought me joy?
What made me smile, and what couldn’t I wait to do?

The first two items on the list are easy
enough:

1. Writing - I’ve always loved writing.
Packed away somewhere are notebooks filled with stories and poems I
wrote when I was in school.

2. Cooking - I’m watching
The Barefoot
Contessa
now, and she’s making this yummy French fish dish that
I think I’ll try. It looks really simple.

Other things that bring me joy:

3. My cat, Spookie, even though I can’t have
her at my apartment. Stupid apartment management and their no-pets
policy. Spookie stays at my parents’ house, but when I was in high
school, she was my little pal. She would sit on my desk while I was
doing homework and play with my pencil as I was trying to do my
math. She’s always been my baby. Maybe it’s time to start shopping
for a new apartment now that I got that raise.

4. Running. In high school, I was on the
cross-country team and really enjoyed that. Running was always kind
of an escape for me.

5. Yoga—duh.

6. Pilates—double duh.

7. Hanging out with my friends (no names
since I’m keeping this anonymous, but they know who they are).

8. Music. When I was a kid, I taught myself
how to play the guitar and used to be pretty good. But nowadays, I
enjoy listening to music more than playing it.

10. Sports. In addition to cross-country, I
played basketball in sixth and seventh grade. And I’ve started
playing softball on the company team. Other than that, I love to
watch all kinds of sports. Dad and I try to get together once a
week to catch a game.

11. Beaches. I’ve never seen the ocean, but
I have this picture of a seascape at sunset hanging on my bedroom
wall. I often fantasize that I’m standing on that beach, staring
out at the ocean. I’d love to stay in a beach house. I’d live on
the deck when I wasn’t walking along the edge of the water.

12. Reading. Before M, I read all the time.
Romance mostly. But then M had me read a bunch of books on sex and
sexuality, and now I just find it hard to read. My poor Kindle
hasn’t been charged in months. Maybe I’ll go charge it right now
and download a bunch of books. Perhaps that will help get my mind
off M.

Her hands hovered over the keyboard as she reread
her list. Then she hit publish. Funny, but just writing that list
made her feel better. For the first time in months, she wasn’t
dwelling on how alone she was and actually considered getting off
her ass. She hadn’t been to a yoga class in ages, and her Pilates
instructor had probably forgotten what she looked like.

She checked the time. If she hurried, she
could just make the class before it started. She prayed they hadn’t
changed the schedule.

She shut her laptop and glanced at the flat
screen as Ina served scrumptious sole fillets on yellow plates.
With a resigned nod, she stood and headed toward her bedroom. She
snagged her Kindle, plugged it into the charger, gathered the
stacks of sex books off her dresser—where they had resided for
months—and carried them into her spare room, where she packed them
into one of her bookcases. Returning to her room, she quickly
changed into yoga pants and a tank top, pulled on a cable-knit
sweater, shrugged into her coat, grabbed her purse and gym bag, and
headed out. First stop, the gym. Second stop, the grocery
store.

She was having French-style sole for dinner
to celebrate taking her first real step toward recovery.

Chapter 5

January 15

As Mark pounded the ever-living crap out of the
weighted bag, sweat poured down his body. And this was his
cooldown. He’d already spent an hour banging out reps in the free
weights. His muscles were screaming.

“Hey.”

Mark’s gloved fist smacked the bag as he
pulled up and glanced over his shoulder at Rob. They hadn’t talked
since New Year’s Eve. Partly because Mark was still angry with him,
but also because he was still too pissed off at the world to make a
genuine apology for blowing up at Rob. It seemed as more days
passed, the more agitated he grew. He’d never experienced feeling
like this…a blend of helplessness, sorrow, impatience, and rage.
What a destructive cocktail.

“Hey.” Mark steadied the swinging red bag and
rubbed the back of his wrist across his dripping forehead.

“Happy birthday.” Rob set down his bag. “I
know I’m a few days late, but…”

Tense discomfort settled between them. Mark
had never gone longer than a few days without talking to Rob or
joining him for a game of hoops, but ever since Rob met Holly, and
especially since New Year’s Eve and Mark’s cataclysmic meltdown,
they had grown further and further apart.

“Thanks.” Mark took a step back then turned
for the bench where his half-empty water bottle rested. He popped
the cap and swallowed a healthy gulp.

“Mark, look…” Rob sighed. “I’m sorry about
New Year’s Eve. Holly and I shouldn’t have sprung Crystal on you
like that.”

“You think?” Mark winced at the harshness in
his voice. Shit, but his fuse was impossibly short. Why the hell
did he have to snap at Rob every time he saw him? If anything, he
should be apologizing
to
Rob, not getting an apology
from
him.