“I wanted to let you know Brianna woke up,” I say to Ava while picking at the material of my seat.
The calm silence stretches into something so suffocating I want to bolt out of here. She’s too cool about my reappearance. If I had to deal with a client with my attitude, I would have stopped seeing them. I glance at Ava, she averts her eyes but it’s too late. She was watching me too. Her dreadlocks are gone, replaced by short brown hair that curls at her temples. I liked seeing the cowries. Made me feel better.
Worry prickles my neck, I rub my hand against the back of my head and pretend her stern frown has nothing to do with me. “That’s good to hear,” she finally says. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”
I lower my head to avoid meeting her gentle gaze. It feels like she has more to say but she’s weighing her words like I am doing. The quotes on the wall make less sense. Identify your trauma. I did and what happened? Nothing. They put so much emphasis on forgiveness like a magical healing would take place after an apology but I feel the same way I did before Salford. I haven’t felt that relief people preached.
“Ava,” I begin, trying to gather courage to voice out the rest of my words. Her head jerks to me, I almost take back my words. With others, it is hard to be nervous but Ava is like the beloved Grandma no one wants to upset so you watch your steps around her. “I don’t think I’ll be needing therapy after today.”
The ticking of the clock echoes in the quiet as we are left to our thoughts. What was the point of therapy? To please Joshua. And El. But I am at peace with Joshua and I am past caring what El thinks about me. If she thinks it okay to dine with my enemies because we are separated, I shouldn’t strive to please her.
Ava strolls to her desk to pick the Rubik’s cube, I send her a grateful smile when she hands it to me. This is a good bribe but it is not good enough.
“Should we play catch up?” she asks. I pause. The white cubes are all on one side so I continue with the other colours. “Tell me what you have been up to these past weeks. You missed a lot of sessions.”
Too many to count. We agreed to meet twice a week with a promise to increase or decrease it based on my schedule and response. I place the Rubik cube on the armrest. This is not the reaction I expected. But she has always been composed so this is not exactly surprising. I clasp my knees.
I have been up to a lot.
“I went to see my parents,” I murmur.
She holds my gaze. “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“It depends. I haven’t seen them in five years,” I explain. “Before then, I had also not seen them in five years. So in ten years, I saw them twice. Once, five years ago, the second time was last week.”
The recorder is on the stool by her seat but she doesn’t turn it on nor pick the open jotter with a pen inside it. Knowing that loosens the tension I didn’t realise had knotted my joints. I relax a bit.
“Why?”
“They are bad people,” I say with a slight chuckle.
I sounded exactly like my twins. You are either good or bad in their books, there is no in between.
“So what changed your mind?” She crosses her legs at the ankle. “Why did you visit them last week?”
“No reason. I didn’t want to, it just kind of happened.” Her eyes say she’s not buying it. I let out a sigh. Fine. “Joshua. I spoke to Joshua and I was feeling bad after our talk so I decided to go home with him.” Our eyes meet again, I don’t look away this time. “I think I am glad I followed him.” I don’t wait for her to ask me why, I continue, “It wasn’t particularly exciting to see them. Nothing is exciting about them.”
Ava doesn’t laugh. My laughter dies off and I shrug. She might be aware of Brianna’s accident but she doesn’t know the full story surrounding it. If she did, she might look at me differently but it’s a good thing she will never know. “When I was younger, I did something bad. Very bad and they covered up for me.”
“As most parents would,” she chips in.
“I guess but it’s not the kind of stuff you cover up for people.” She folds her hands on her legs and nods for me to continue. “Even if they are your kids.” I press a finger to my temples to ward off the images imposing themselves on me. God forbid the twins grow up to hate each other to the extent of harming themselves. What will I do in such a situation? I tuck my hands under my thighs. My chest grows heavier with the thought. “I think I wanted them to call me or something,” I add the last part so I don’t come off too strong. “Ask me why.” I squeeze my eyes shut and my heart lurches against my ribcage. “Talk to me like their son.”
“Why?” she asks. I open my eyes. “Why did you do what you did? What did you do?”
I sigh. “Something bad.” The guilt is less with my reply. It has been that way for a while now. I missed my parents calls, I am not sure why they cared to call. Are they trying to fix our broken relationship because they are old and probably dying? Why did they have to wait for me to reach out first? “Very bad, Ava.”
They never reach out to any of their kids. They were the masters of burying issues. If you didn’t talk about it right there and then, everyone would go about their daily business like nothing happened. It’s why I teach the girls to be outspoken.
“So bad you can’t forgive yourself?” My God. She asks complicated questions. Why can’t she ask about my business? The new models I am working on? I will provide answers to that in a blink.
Paraphrasing Joshua’s words, I murmur, “I have punished myself long enough so...” She smiles, that proud smile that’s a rarity from Mother. “It’s time to start trying to forgive myself, I guess.” Joshua would have been happy to hear this. He thinks forgiveness makes everything go away. I still don’t know how I feel about my parents’ apology. But I feel a lot lighthearted. “How does that even work?”
“By taking it one step at a time, making conscious efforts. Therapy being one of them.” I open my palms and focus on them instead of what she’s saying. “Why do you think you don’t need therapy anymore?”
“I started it because of Joshua. Mostly El,” I admit. “Now we are no longer talking and I am wondering if I really need this.” She is back in town. I know because Joshua told me. It is crazy how we switch from lovers to enemies, there’s no middle ground for us. “El won’t take me back so what’s the point of therapy?”
“To heal, Brandon,” she says in such a therapeutic voice that makes me want to cry. This is why I should stop therapy, it puts me in my feelings. “Therapy isn’t something you do for people, it’s something you should do for yourself. You have a lot of baggage and it is my job to help you unpack them.” Baggage should be my middle name. I have a shit ton of them. “And I can’t do that if you are not willing to help.” My eyes shut. She’s leaving me no choice than to continue our sessions. “This time, we will do it because you want it, not because of your wife or brother. You have to want to heal.”
The weight in my chest drops to my stomach, the room grows hot and I unknot my tie.
Ava takes my silence as a go-ahead. “When you think of your parents, are you triggered?”
Red hot fury flickers through my tense body but it’s gone as fast as it came. I wait until my breathing is under control before I reply. “Am I angry when I think of them? Yes.” All the goddamn time but not so much as before. “Do I want to hurt them? Yes. Get back at them? Yes. Will I act on these emotions? No.”
That proud smile flits to her lips again, she nods and for a fleeting second, I believe it is possible to heal and unpack these emotional baggage in the way of my happiness. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I should be home but I am loving every minute in this place. Maybe I do need to continue.
“It’s progress.” I think so too. I can envision a future where I visit them again. “It’s okay to get triggered by these memories. It doesn't mean you are not on your way to healing.” I nod again and she takes a sip from her bottled water. “What’s more important is your reaction towards these memories and you seem to be doing a fine job of keeping yourself in check.” Because I was reckless once, I don’t want a repeat of that. I am a father now, my decisions will mar or make my girls future. “Great job on that, Brandon,” she adds.
I wave off her compliment. “How’s the husband?”
Her smile is instantaneous. “He’s fine. How’s the wife?”
“She thinks I’m a monster.” She frowns. I shrug.
“Is that why you two stopped talking?” I nod. “She thinks you are a monster, what do you think?” I grow self-aware under her gaze and shift until I find a comfortable position. “Are you what she says you are?”
“Not entirely.”
“Okay.” She picks her phone and mine pings consecutively. “For this week and next, you have to practise positive affirmations. I sent you a few exercises.” I unlock my phone and her email pops up. “Nothing too difficult.” I steal a look at the clock. My session is over. “Brandon, it will take time but you will get there.”