Finding Me (37 page)

She waves me to their kitchen which is littered with dishes from their breakfast.

“I’m sorry, Kitty, I should have called. I just…”

“Harper, you don’t need to apologize. I’ve been worried about you. I’m glad that you’re here. I’m sorry for what I said—”

This time I interrupt her by shaking my head. “No. I know why you said it. I understand what you’re saying now. I have to be able to take risks and live my life because there are no guarantees. I get it now. For so long I feel like I’ve been afraid of getting old because I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m always so worried that I’m going to fail or not live up to my potential…” I look at her and my eyes well with tears again, begging her for forgiveness, “Now I’m afraid that I won’t have the chance to get old. That I won’t get enough time for failures and regrets.”

Her hand squeezes mine again, and I focus on why I came. “I need to know what’s wrong. I know that it’s none of my business and that we’re supposed to have a professional relationship, but…” My eyes travel across the rounded edge of the table beside me and then back to Kitty. “You’re a lot more than just my counselor.”

Kitty and I sit at the kitchen table and she explains her diagnosis of breast cancer with me. She skates over her treatment plan and ends with the prognosis which was dealt with grim results.

“There are all kinds of theories and trials. We can try some diet changes. My dad was friends with an oncologist that was studying this Swedish scientist that was having breakthroughs with dietary adjustments. Vitamin C in large doses is crazy. They can put it in you intravenously and it swarms the cancer. I’ve seen it happen through studies.” My head shakes as I try to sift through the onslaught of ideas that are storming through my brain.

“Harper, you can’t fix everything. That’s not your responsibility.”

“I’m not trying to fix everything. I’m trying to fix
this
. Please, let me.”

“S’il vous plaît essayer.”

My body stiffens, feeling as though a ghost has just appeared. It takes me several blinks to see Kitty’s husband clearly and longer than it should to translate his gruff voice racing in French, pleading with Kitty to listen to me and to try.

After a long pause I add, “S’il vous plaît essayer.”

Kitty’s eyes and her husband’s turn to me with surprise as I plead with her to try. “My dad spoke French fluently,” I quietly explain.

After a while, Kitty agrees to allow me to reach out to different doctors and is willing to discuss an alternative route of treatment.

I spend the day at her house, calling up old associates and friends of my father’s and working through his network to direct me to several specialists that agree to help because of knowing my dad. Her husband, Jeff, and I speak in French without either of us ever agreeing to do so, and it feels good to pull it out, and stretch it across my tongue.

“Beware lest you lose the substance by grasping at the shadow.”

–Aesop

F
itz rubs my shoulders and I take a deep breath while scrolling down to Kendall’s name. I’ve already called my mom and the rest of my sisters and apologized to them for leaving without so much as a warning, but I’ve saved Kendall for last, knowing that I’ve likely hurt her the most.

“Are you okay?” she asks after the second ring.

“I’m doing better. How are you?”

“I understand why you left, Ace. Max told me what happened.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that. I know I told you all to stop walking on egg shells and that I had grown, and wouldn’t do it again, I just needed to leave.”

“I know, and I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I admit with a shaky breath. “I think right now I just need to focus on finding me. Realizing who I am and becoming comfortable with that.”

Fitz gives me a comforting squeeze and then moves to the kitchen.

“I just wish you could do that here. But I understand and I support you. I love you, and I will support you regardless of your choices, but I want you to know something about Max.”

“Okay…”

“He and Erin broke up. He told me he ended things with her the day that Fitz arrived, but had wanted to do it for a while. Jameson says he thinks he never even wanted to be with her and I know he’s right. I just want to make sure that you know.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty relieved actually.” I let out a breath and roll my eyes to argue with her, but she beats me to it. “You shouldn’t hate him for her. I think when you left all of his insecurities about not being loved came crashing back, and I think he was desperate. He needed to be wanted, when really, he wanted to be needed.”

“I don’t hate him. I sometimes wish that I could.” I can feel Fitz’s curiosity from across the room where he’s now measuring my living room. Although he isn’t actually looking at me, he hasn’t moved a muscle since my admittance. “I need some dad advice. He was always so good at this stuff, you know?”

“You still have your letter, you should read it. Maybe it will help?”

“Maybe.” We both know my answer is a dismissal.

“I’m going to look at tickets tomorrow. I’ve got some time off in September, and this time, I’ll make the trek out to see you.”

“I’d like that,” I admit with a smile.

“I love you too, Ace.”

“I love you too.”

Fitz makes his way over to where I’m sitting on the floor and kneels beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he holds me. It’s like he knows it’s exactly what I need.

I begin my normal regime of seeing Kitty again on Wednesday afternoon. I spend the entire hour talking. She doesn’t have to prompt me for emotions or ask me how things make me feel, or why. I just talk. And talk. And talk. I start off by telling her about seeing my dad and how my mom and I have essentially smoothed things over. I tell her about Sarah’s miscarriage and how that triggered me from both the loss and being in the hospital. I tell her about Nate and what actually occurred that night. I talk through tears that I don’t make even the slightest attempt to hold back, realizing that my tears aren’t making me vulnerable or weak—they’re making me strong because I’m crying them knowing that things can, and will get better.

Not once within the hour does she interrupt me, or ask me to elaborate, or dissect the emotions that I list to her. She allows me to pause when I need to catch my breath and sort through my feelings and waits me to force myself to continue.

I end the session realizing that Kendall’s right. I have pushed things away that I don’t want to face, not always because I’m afraid, but because I don’t want to disappoint others, and in doing so I’ve managed to hurt those that I care about the most.

It’s a Saturday night and I’m wearing a deep purple cocktail dress adorned with a pair of heels that Fitz had convinced me to buy while we were in New York for Thanksgiving. They’re teal and have a peacock feather painted on the sides in deep purple hues. I loved them instantly and feel happy to finally be wearing them. I spend a little extra time on my appearance, pulling my hair into an updo, lining my eyes, and shading my eyelids. I haven’t spent this much time getting ready for anything in Delaware before, and feel a little excited to be taking a small step in allowing myself to move forward.

My doorbell rings at 7:50 p.m. and I slide my coat on before face Danny.

His blue eyes widen slightly as I pull the door fully open. He got back late last night from being in Oklahoma for the last week but had called and texted each day to touch base.

“You look amazing!” he says, his eyes dancing around me like they’re not sure what they want to continue looking at. “I mean, you’re always gorgeous, but you … wow. I don’t think I can be away from you for that long again.” He wraps me in his arms, and I feel the warmth of him emanate through his light green button down shirt.

“You look pretty great yourself.”

His dimples stamp deeper into his cheeks as his smile grows, and without hesitation he leans forward and kisses me. It takes me a beat to stop the guilt from rising through me, and then I kiss him back, allowing my lips to linger on his as my neighbor across the landing opens her door.

A fading bruise along his right cheek has my fingers gently tracing over the tender area, but he shakes his head and wraps his fingers around mine. “It’s nothing. I don’t care about any of it. I just want to focus on you tonight.”

This afternoon Fitz had come over and listened to me as I talked through each of my concerns about starting something with Danny when I’m obviously far from being over my feelings for Max. Fitz encouraged me to talk to Danny about everything since he knew about the breakup from the very beginning.

We head out to a beautiful French restaurant where Danny listens to me tell him about the trip, wincing occasionally when I mention my feelings toward Max, and when I admit that I slept beside him on the couch. He doesn’t get upset though. His face remains relaxed through most of my confession, expressing his patience.

“If you’re willing to try this, Harper, I’m in. I understand that you loved him, and that a part of you still does, but I think as time goes on, you’ll realize that I can love you more. I’ll make you forget him and all the pain he’s caused you.”

I want to explain that most of my pain has been self-inflicted, but hold my words, crediting that at least I’m able to acknowledge the fact.

“We can start slow. There’s no pressure. We’ll go at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

I reach forward and close my hand around his, and he brings it to his lips and places a soft kiss on the back of my hand before squeezing my fingers gently in his.

Things fall into a comfortable routine. Fitz accompanies me to pick out some living room furniture, a kitchen table, and even a new mattress and box spring. I order pictures to be enlarged and find a few prints to decorate my walls with. It’s still fairly scarce, but it’s improvement.

Kitty has started an aggressive diet that she complained mercilessly about for the first two weeks when I’d visit her each afternoon, prodding me with questions about what I ate, as she reluctantly swallowed more of the food that her husband, Jeff, shoved in front of her. However, a month later, things are improving slightly. The tumor hasn’t grown, and in fact shrank slightly, and she’s admitted to feeling less lethargic.

I’ve notified Mather’s Science and Technology that I won’t continue my work there after the end of this semester. Although science is something I will always love, I know that pursuing this avenue of science will never lead me to a feeling of fulfillment because it will never be able to bring me more days with my father and that the attempt to beat what killed him may very likely beat me in turn because I won’t be able to stop. Thus leading me to changing my major. Initially, I consider going into grief counseling because after the year that I’ve experienced, and my time with Kitty, I now realize how life changing they are, but I also know that I don’t have the right personality for it. I would love to help others overcome their sadness, but I know that I would likely drown in it myself.