The Anyway Clause

People Aren't Just One Thing

[A/N: Press play: Dr. Brene Brown on Empathy. It's short but worth it.]

"I've never heard anyone say 'I wish I hadn't forgiven.'" -Katerina Stoykova Klemer

Jane

This whole therapy thing wasn't going as planned. It just felt like I couldn't stop myself from vomiting all these secrets. Just when I thought I was done, another round of realizations spoiled the fragile little peace. The thing about it was, I wielded a lot of them as weapons against TJ. For so long I'd been hurting it felt good to strike back. Like, the lonely girl I used to be was finally getting revenge. It didn't matter that the girl I'd become wasn't at all happy with the unfolding events. Every night I'd cried missing my dad and missing my brother was a dagger I slung at TJ and watched him bleed. I wanted to stop but stopping all the hurt and the pain from coming out with nothing more than a little wish was the same as trying to stop a waterfall with a pebble; it spewed right out without hesitation. And then we had to try and work through it. Therapy sucked. And hearing the therapist comment on "unpacking our feelings" was absolutely annoying and totally expected. But then there was a moment I hadn't planned on; TJ struck back, hitting me hard with one of my own truths I hadn't even known existed. Or rather, a truth I'd never had the guts to acknowledge.

I was describing my step-dad and somewhere in my description of him lacked venom and hatred. There was something in the way that, after all he did and everything I went through, I still called him my step-dad. I didn't pick up on it. I was considering it too big a feat just talking about him. But I'm guessing that the therapist did at the same time TJ did but he didn't have the tact to wait and let me work it out safely. I guess the idea of having any sort of loving feelings for a man whose memory tormented me from the grave was just too much for him. I was literally losing my grip on reality from being so sleep deprived due to night terrors where he was the main star and yet, I spoke fondly of him. It was twisted and TJ hit me hard and fast with it before I could comprehend what I'd done.

"You love that asshole! After everything and I get no breathing room with my mistakes!"

"It's complicated."

And it really was because it was news to me. I needed more time to over analyze every syllable I uttered and put it in its proper place to try and understand emotions too big for a single conversation. There was too much there.

"Not really. You see how that's fucked up don't you? He killed mom but he gets a fucking pass. I'm your brother!"

"You weren't there! So stop acting like you get anything. He was more than just that guy! He's also the guy that found me crying in the middle of the kitchen floor at two in the morning and held me and sang Spanish lullabies! I didn't even know he knew Spanish songs!"

The memory came bursting through from somewhere in the back of my memory and it brought with it the sobs of a girl who'd never been allowed to mourn the man that tried to be a good father despite his nature. That little girl that missed the smell of soap on the skin of a man that pressed kisses into her temple to wake her from bad dreams was now lying prostrate in my soul with years of un-shed tears spilling down my cheeks and I was horrified. I'd spent every drop of energy I could muster over the years trying to forget everything about him. I couldn't allow myself the happy memories because it felt like a betrayal to my mother's memory. And so I never mourned him. How could I? But emotionally stripped raw, in a cast that prevented me from running, on the couch of a therapist next to my seething brother I was finally crashing into all that pain I packed away. And damn did it hurt.

"How can you love him?" TJ was clearly astonished.

"I think that this has been a major revelation for Jane and instead of attacking her we need to try and help her understand these feelings," the therapist tried.