Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Let's Talk it Out (Chapter 43)

It had been a rough day. Drained from working with a particularly obstinate man who had suffered a stroke six weeks earlier and was still deep in the pity party table for one mindset, Marlow took the rest of the afternoon off. Muttering to herself, it took all she had to not lean on her horn as she sat in thick traffic. Bored with the music and chatter on the radio, she hopped on Spotify. Randomly selecting a playlist, she rested her elbow on the window frame and supported her head on her knuckles. By some miracle, she had picked the perfect playlist to cheer her up. Rolling up her window and blasting the AC, she cranked her music. Drumming her hands on the steering wheel to a Freddy Mercury tune, she happily sang along.

Finally arriving home, Marlow tossed her briefcase under the side table and kicked off her shoes. Appreciating the cool touch of the hardwood floor on her hot feet, she staggered to the kitchen. What she needed was an ice-cold beverage and to chat with her best friend. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Marlow sighed. Though initially excited when Zoe accepted a position taking photographs for a big company in the United States, she knew it was a long shot that Zoe would be able to answer. Calling the number anyway, as expected, it went straight to voicemail.

"This is Zoe. Leave a message and I'll get back to you soon. Bye."

"Hey, Zoe, I need a girlfriend's getaway. Do you have any time off coming your way? If you do, let's plan to do something. We could get Harper to come too. Give me a ring back."

Marlow's shoulders heaved as she let out a disappointed sigh. Pulling up her contacts, she dialled her therapist.

***

"Come in and have a seat," Margaret said.

"Thank you," Marlow responded, as the much older woman sat down in a chair across from her.

"So, it's been a few months since I last saw you. How have the coping strategies I taught you been working out? Have they been helpful?"

"Oh, yes, very helpful," Marlow said, smiling at the woman whose non-judgemental tone, warm eyes and soft smile reminded her so very much of Charlotte and Arthur.

"Great. So, what is it then that prompted you to come see me today?"

"I've just been feeling out of sorts lately, and I need help working through that."

"Perfect. Do you remember how I do things?"

"I do," Marlow said, accepting a bottle of chilled water and a tissue box from Margaret. Swallowing hard to push down the lump in her throat, guilt and anxiety gurgled in her gut. It had taken her a full year after coming home from Italy to finally act on her promise to Piero and seek professional help. Attending weekly sessions for the first few months, then dropping down to every two weeks, and finally once a month, Marlow was proud of the work she had done. But, focusing primarily on her issues of self-esteem and trust from childhood wounds, she had kept Piero out of their discussions.

"Alright then, you tell me where you would like to start."

Grabbing a tissue from the box, Marlow's gaze dropped to the floor.

"Two years ago..."

Surprised by how small her voice sounded, clearing her throat, Marlow tried again.

"Two years ago, I was in a romantic relationship with someone very special..."

Listening as Marlow spoke, Margaret quietly took notes. Looking over the top of her glasses and observing the occasional hint of a smile and tilt of the head, she could see that this man had been important to her client.

"Well," Margaret said, removing her glasses and setting them on the table beside her. "I think I have a good idea of why you're feeling out of sorts. What you're experiencing is very normal and completely understandable. While we all want to get through breakups and start new relationships, it is a tough thing to swallow when the other person seems to move on faster than we would like. Do you think his being engaged also added to the reason you didn't want to make your presence known, or was it just that you didn't want to address what had happened during your visit to Italy?"

Marlow shrugged.

"Maybe, yeah, prob-probably," she stuttered.

"I can see that this is going to be another tough issue for you to work on, but I am very optimistic that it won't be as horrible as you are thinking it will be."

"Why is that?" Marlow asked.

"Well, I agree with you that the coping strategies you learnt have been helpful. As we spoke, I saw and heard you using them."

"You did?"

"I did. The fact that you didn't have to stop and consciously force yourself to use them proves that you have come a long way from where we started. So, all we're doing now is connecting these two events and moving on from there. You have already done most of the hard work, and I'm proud of you."

Marlow smiled.

"Let's stop there for today and continue with the same visit schedule as last time."

Standing, Marlow sighed heavily. Though feeling slightly lighter after unburdening the weight that had been sitting on her chest, her limbs and head felt heavy and drained.

"Thank you for coming in to see me," Margaret said, rubbing Marlow's back as she led her to the door. "You have your homework for next week. Do the best you can with it, but if you can't come up with anything, then leave it. I would much rather help you through the assignment than have you sink into old behaviours."

"I will try," Marlow said, waving goodbye as she stepped into the hallway and walked towards the elevators.

***

Standing at the front door to her home, using what residual strength she had left to enter, Marlow slowly turned the key. Tossing her bag to the side, she didn't bother removing her shoes. Collapsing into an overstuffed chair, she closed her eyes. Margaret was wrong; dealing with the emotions around Piero and Italy was going to be difficult. These sessions were going to involve her talking about hurting someone instead of just trying to survive.

Sitting in the quiet house, all by herself, Marlow's brain slowed down. Kicking off her shoes and letting them stay where they fell, she pulled the piece of paper containing her homework assignment out of her pocket. Moving to the kitchen table, she opened the page. Many years ago, Piero had sat beside her at this exact table, as she stared at another piece of paper. His calm words and reassurance gave her enough courage to push through her doubts.

"Do you trust me?" she heard Piero speak from her memories.

"I do," she had answered.

Glancing at the clock, Marlow laughed and shook her head. Some old habits refused to die.