Love Is Louder (52 page)

I remember waking up every morning, wishing that day would be a
good
day. It never seemed to be a good day, though. I thought something was wrong with me, and I was afraid to talk about it with anyone for a long time.

I found something that made me feel better, at least for a while. The
high
of having a crush on a boy became much more, like an addiction for me, all throughout high school and college. The rush that came with being “in love” relieved some of my depressed feelings. Of course, it also led to very obsessive and destructive behavior whenever the object of my affection rejected me. I wanted to regain the good feelings any way I could, so I made some very poor decisions. And, yes, even though I find myself reluctant to admit it, there were plenty of times I thought about taking my own life in order to end the pain.

I tried so many times to be a confident, strong woman, but I never quite made it, or maybe being with a man that makes me feel comfortable and self-assured would help me uncover and find the woman I should or was meant to be.

A frown grows on my face when I begin to think about the relationships I had in the past. There weren’t many, but in each case, they always left for someone more…alluring? Better.

I never did know what I was lacking that men would leave me. I lost a piece of myself in each one of the relationships until I was a shell of a person. And look where I am now? James. Of all the men. I just can’t believe I’m here again.

The uncertainty I lived with everyday began to lift once I began meeting with Natalie my freshman year in college. She came highly recommended by one of my mother’s close friends whose daughter was going through her own issues.

I talked about my heartbreaks<3 and my struggles and how it affected my confidence and the way I saw myself. I used my photography to observe and focus on the outside world instead of on me. Everything else around me seemed flawless, while I was somehow lacking. That’s one of the things I got out of my sessions with Natalie.

I continued to see her, even when I met James. Ironic that my relationship with him brought me out of my endless black hole. He was different than the rest, and when he asked me to marry him, I finally felt like I was enough for someone. My confidence grew, and I really started to enjoy my life. Then, the pressure of adulthood and marriage happened. His career, my work, my insecurities. I didn’t think I’d be here. James sleeping with two other women and the possibility of being a father. Ultimately, James made me regress to a bad place. That same black hole he pulled me out of, he pulled me back in. A place I don’t want to be.

I find my cell phone in my purse. Scrolling down my contacts, I come to her name and inhale.

Shit, this is the last thing I want to do.

I finally work up the courage to call. I dial her number and collapse back in my chair, reevaluate my thinking, and then hang up. I stare at the screen long and hard and hit
Redial
, letting it ring. I hope it goes to voicemail, so I can leave her a message, but she picks up before I can disconnect.

“Natalie Winters.”

I remind myself to be strong before I respond.

“Hi, Natalie. It’s Brie.”

“Brie?”

“Yes,” I say, chewing on my fingernail. I imagine Natalie’s svelte five-nine figure sitting behind her desk in a tailored black suit. In her early thirties, she graduated from NYU at the top of her class.

Her wavy, thick, brown hair is probably pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she has her signature diamond earrings in her ears. I always wondered if she had a man in her life. Not once did I see a photo in her office. It’s probably best that way. Being single means no drama and no heartache.

“Oh, it’s really nice to hear from you.”

“It’s been a little bit.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Yes, it has. How are you?”

The tapping of her fingers on her keyboard fills my ears, and I get nervous that maybe she is updating my file. Keeping tabs on me.

Shit, I need to stop.

“Good. Really busy, in fact.”

Really busy catching my husband fucking the deputy DA in his office and finding out he could be a father. Other than that, things are fucking peachy out here in Massapequa Park for Mrs. James Fleming.

“Busy is good.”

“A vacation would be nice right about now.” I smile, thinking about some place sunny near the ocean.

“I totally agree with you on that one.”

I clear my throat and nervously smooth out my white pencil skirt. “I apologize for being so bitchy the last time we spoke.” I stand up, pacing an erratic path in my office. Covering my forehead with my hand, I consider the best and most subtle way to ask her for what I need, the sole reason why I made this call. The one thing I promised myself I would not do because it only serves to show me that I’ve faltered, that I’m ultimately weak and cannot sustain living without it, but what do you expect after what just happened a few days ago?

“Don’t apologize. Sometimes I can be a little pushy. That’s only because I care about my patients.” She laughs. “You know how I feel about you, Brie. You’ve made tons of progress.”

Balling my fists, I clench my eyes shut and dread what I’m about to ask. The brief silence over the phone is enough to push me over the edge. Natalie knows there’s something amiss with me. I was her patient for four years, so she knows all the signs. I fidget with the buttons on my black silk sleeveless blouse and inhale a deep breath.

“Do you mind writing me a prescription for some sleeping pills? I’ve been having a hard time sleeping the last couple of days.”

She sucks in an audible breath while I silently pray she will just say yes.

Please, say yes.

“Brie, it’s been over a year. Is everything all right? I can refer you to a colleague of mine if you want.”

She gives me the fucking response I’m dreading. I don’t have the patience to sit through hour-long sessions with a stranger.

“No, this is temporary. I don’t think…I just have a lot going on, and it would help me w—”

“Are you sure it’s just losing sleep, or is there more?” she interjects. Her voice takes on a sensible and impartial tone, the same tone she takes when I’m sitting in her office during one of my sessions.

“Things are fine. Just overwhelmed and stressed with work.” I stare out the window and take a deep breath. “Please, I’m asking you this one favor.” I open the top drawer of my desk, grab a bottle of aspirin, and collapse back into my chair, feeling a headache coming on.

Come on, please. I need to close my eyes for more than a few minutes and to relax my mind. Nothing else is working.

Natalie is quiet for a few moments, and I picture her squinting and sliding her black rectangular glasses higher on her nose, something she used to do constantly during my counseling sessions.

“I normally don’t do this, but I’ll do it this one time, but if you change your mind about seeing someone, I can give you a name.”

In a matter of seconds, my headache seems to lessen. My gaze goes to my hand clutching the unmarked bottle of aspirin, and a satisfied and relieved smile crosses my face. I toss the bottle into the drawer and shut it.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “But the prescription is enough for now.”

When I step outside thirty minutes later, I get caught in the August heat. The humid, oppressive air causes my clothes to cling to my body. The bright rays caress my face, but my mood remains wintry, a black abyss of unhappiness. I dither, watching people scurry past me, crossing the street, oblivious to the world beyond their own.

The laughter of children puts a smile on my face and lures me to the park across the street. I hasten to the green space and settle myself on a bench—the same bench I saw James with Lisa—facing the fountain so the faint mist cools my skin. My eyes seek out anything to subdue the chill in my heart.

Mason
.

He’d be able to make me smile. I’m not sure if I’ll be good company, but I can pretend. My heart rate accelerates as I recall what it felt like to kiss him. What it felt like to have his arms wrapped around me as if he was never going to let me go. What it felt like when he smiled at me and only at me.

Dropping my eyes, I watch as a dingy scuffed baseball rolls near my feet, bumping the toe of my charcoal black Jimmy Choos. I pick it up, lifting my eyes to the left in the direction the ball came. A little boy of maybe five or six wearing a Derek Jeter jersey and Yankee cap starts running over to retrieve his runaway ball. I close my eyes, imagining James playing catch with a little boy. I shake my head in sadness, and the fantasy dissolves like an image you shake away on an Etch a Sketch.

“Ma’am, can I have my ball, please?”

I look up into the green eyes of the little boy with sandy blonde hair that tumbles over his eyes. I want to reach out with my hand and brush the hair away from his angelic face, but instead, I extend my hand, and he takes the ball from my open palm. A weak smile touches my lips as tears threaten to break. I’m an emotional fucking wreck.

Why don’t you want what I want, James?

“Here you go, Derek.” I wink.

He grins. “Derek Jeter is my idol, but my real name is Tatum. But, you can call me Tate for short.”

Tate of all names.

“Tate…nice to meet you. I’m Brie.”

“Hi. You’re pretty.”

“Why...thank you. You’re quite a handsome baseball player.”

“Thanks.” He smirks, punching his little fist in his glove, probably something his father taught him or he picked up while watching a baseball game.

“I bet you have all the girls falling for you.” I rustle his hair that feels like silk under my fingers, and I close my eyes for a brief moment to push the growing tears away.

“Maybe,” he answers. Redness travels up to his chubby cheeks as he kicks at the ground.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed by this little boy’s presence because I can’t have my own. I grab my purse and stand and straighten my skirt in a calm manner, even though everything inside me is in utter turmoil.

“Tate, it was so nice to meet you.”

“You look sad. Please, don’t be sad.” Tate’s shoulders fall contritely. “Daddy says everyone looks prettier when they smile. You should smile.”

“You’re daddy is right.” I grin while the rest of me is crumbling on the inside. I slip on my sunglasses because I’m quite sure I’ll cry in the next ten seconds thinking about what I’ll be missing out on. I rush away as Tate stands holding his ball and waving after me. I wave back as his father walks up from behind and scoops him into his arms. I listen as his sweet laughter pervades the air. I turn away, and that’s when the tears fall.

I’m able to control the slight trembling of my body and wipe at the tears with my hand as I rush to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription, anxious to have something assist me to ease the burden in my mind. Temporary is fine. I have to make due. I need sleep.

I join the crowds milling on the sidewalk again, blending in as best as I can as I plaster a faux smile on my face. With my pills safely tucked in my purse, I’m feeling complete.

What would me parents, especially my mom, think of me now? Slipping like this.

My parents live only a couple of hours away in Norwalk, Connecticut, but it seems like a universe away. I’ve shut them out for the last few months to get my life in order, only to see it collapse in the matter of days.

I reach for the phone in my purse and hope I can keep it together. I dial her number and clutch my purse to my chest to quall the tremors that raid my body.

“Hello?” she answers on the first ring.

“Mom.”

“Brie?” Her voice is soothing, like a lullaby and perks up when she recognizes my voice.

“Hi.” I smile, fanning myself as I walk under a tree to protect myself from the summer sun.

“Sweetie, it’s so nice to hear your voice. I miss you.” I can sense my mother’s smile, and warmth envelopes my ravaged heart. I should have called her much sooner.

“I miss you, too. I’ve been really busy.” An ache in my heart builds. I should just tell her everything. No, that’s something you do in person. Not like this, hiding behind the phone. Does it even matter anymore?

Time is too short. Precious.

“You sound different. Are you all right?”

Well, that didn’t last long. If your parents don’t know you, who does?

“Yes...just a little tired. How are things with you and Dad?” I deflect with a quick question.

Accustomed with my tactic of evading, she sighs into the phone and answers, “Your father is always busy at work, and I’m just doing a little bit of gardening out front.”

My mom, the green thumb. I love her so much.

“Now, what’s bothering you?” she persists; the pitch of her voice gets slightly higher, like hitting the wrong key on the piano.

“Nothing...I just haven’t been good at staying in touch. I’m trying to be better and make more time.”

“Sweetie…” she trails off.

“Mom, everything is fine,” I lie as tears stab my eyes.

“Honey, if something is wrong, you can tell me.”

“I know. I think it’s just that time of month for me.
Emotional
.”

She laughs.”I’d take that over menopause and hot flashes any day.”

“Neither one of them sounds like much fun, Mom.” I laugh softly.

“I know. Men have it pretty easy. It’s the women that have to carry the burden.”

Burden.

Was I a burden to James?

Too needy? To wanting?

Did I let my guard down too fast and too soon?

Why do I still love him? Is there something I see in him? Something broken? Are we both too broken to fix?

So many damn questions.

“It gets easier, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I...the move has been complicated. We both work, and sometimes I feel we’re not on the same page about things. The timing is not right.”

Tell me it gets easier, even though it may be too late. Give me hope.

“I know this sounds cliché, but you both have to learn to compromise. Your happiness is his happiness. It goes both ways.”