The Truth of the Matter

7. The Fallout and Conspiracy Theory Nutjobs

October 2013
"Hunter" by Dido

I threw myself into work. I started volunteering extra hours at the women's shelter.  I regularly volunteered four hours on the weekends but I upped it to ten, meeting with different women and children. I could relate to many of their stories, and it wasn't lost on me that I could have been in their same situation if any number of things had gone differently, or if I had made one different choice.

I didn't conduct my sessions in a typical "how does that make you feel" talk therapy format, it felt too awkward. Plus, most people didn't quite know where to start talking and it was helpful to guide them with questions or with my own observations and they could tell me if I was on the right track or not.

I had been going for a zen atmosphere, God knows that I needed it just as much as they did; their stories could rattle the most hardened soul. The walls had been painted a sage green with lush grey carpeting. A small wax warmer in the corner offered calming scents such as teak or sandalwood. The plush cream colored couch was scattered with assorted throw pillows to hold or fidget with and the end table held a small waterfall filled with smooth stones. It was all aesthetically pleasing, and everything served a purpose.

I walked in today, a month after my breakup, surveying the corner where I kept all of the books and toys for children waiting for their adult, or for kids who felt more comfortable talking while playing.

A small boy named Mason was methodically placing all of the puzzles together, as he did every time he came with his mother to a session. He was a wisp of a thing, six years old, blonde hair falling over his brown eyes and a spattering of freckles across his fair skinned nose. He would ignore me mostly, he was still a little shy of new people.

I sat with his mother Lucia, offering her a cup of tea from my electric kettle. She had been seeing me for a few months now, trying to build herself up to make a way for herself and Mason after nearly fifteen years of an abusive marriage. It took courage and a whole lot of determination, but she had both in massive quantities.

She looked at me quizzically and stated

"You've been crying, your face is puffy."

I laughed, automatically ducking my face down

"Glad to see you're taking my advice about being honest."

She took a sip of tea, her smile coming quicker than usual these days, a sure sign of betterment

"Well, you're usually so...what's the word....placid? I've been reading the dictionary to study for my new college class. Now you just look sad, it's in your eyes."

I nodded, she wasn't wrong. Her blonde hair was growing longer, she had never been allowed to have long hair before. I was being prideful, not wanting to admit that I missed Quinn.  Basically, I was trying to convince myself that I could do just fine alone again.

I hadn't needed anyone before and I was sure that I didn't need anyone now. We were over with, and I could deal with that just fine. I wanted to be fine on my own before being around anyone else.

"I had a break up of sorts about a month ago. I didn't feel like I could commit to something serious, and he wanted that so it had to happen" I explained simply, shrugging my shoulders, trying to downplay my sadness.

"Did he want to get married?" she asked curiously.

"Well...I don't really know. He just wondered if I was able to have a deeper relationship, and I don't know if I can...Or if I'm ready. I'm still kind of young..."

I was rationalizing all of my reasons for saying no to being with Quinn, and most people would be fine with that, especially those my age. But Lucia loved to talk through things, to nitpick, and analyze every minuscule detail.  I often told her she should be a lawyer.