42. Girls’ Night

Girls’ Night

M ara

Thursday afternoon, the office scheduled our therapy appointment earlier than usual, so Bex offered to pick Olivia up early and take her out for lunch before going to the shelter. Knowing Olivia was out on the road, and not knowing exactly where, made me nervous.

“I don’t like it when I don’t know where she is,” I muttered to Zale.

In the car on our way to meet with Erin, I stared pensively out my window, not at all right with the world. He reached across the seat and ran his hand down my arm, tugging my hand to place it palm down on his thigh. He covered it with his own.

“It’s not much different for me,” he admitted. “When I’m at work, if I think about you two out and about, I worry.”

“I don’t think it’s the same for you as it is for me.”

“I’m not saying it’s the same, I’m saying the thought is there, the worry is there. And, if I couldn’t tolerate it, I might think locking you guys down would be a good solution, a way to minimize my own anxiety, but that would be unfair.”

“So, you’re saying I’m being unfair?” I was spoiling for a fight, a way to dispel the anxiety.

“Did you let her go?”

“Yes.”

“Then, no, you’re not being unfair. If you didn’t let her go, that would be unfair. I think this falls under the heading of distress intolerance? Because you’re afraid of losing her.”

“It falls under the heading of ‘it fucking sucks’!”

“What would Radical Acceptance look like in this…”

I cut him off. “You don’t get to psychoanalyze me!”

I tried to pull my hand away, but he grasped it firmly in his. “I’m not. The doctors already did that. We know the problem. We are going to therapy for the problem. And the problem is not me… ”

“Oh, really? What happened to ‘we were both wrong’?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. You want to fight me because you’re anxious, but I’m not the reason for your anxiety. I’m not the problem, you have no beef with me.”

His voice steadied me, his words and logic began to penetrate the fog of panic. “I hate it when you’re right,” I grumbled.

He chuckled low, squeezed my hand. “I’m always right.”

“Don’t get cocky,” I snapped.

He nodded, smirked. “I’ll save that for when we get home from therapy.”

I barked out a laugh and he smiled. “I love you.”

I grumbled, “I love you, too.”

I was still smiling when we got to Erin’s office. She helped me to write out Radical Acceptance statements for when Olivia was out and about, and for when Zale was out, too.

He was surprised about that, not realizing that same anxiety extended to him every time he left, including every day he left for work.

We updated her on the situation with my mom, and the boundaries I’d set.

I told her about my garden revelations, about creating space to heal, about healing meaning I’d be a safe place for Zale and Olivia, which meant I didn’t have to consider leaving them or feel guilty for staying.

We spent the remainder of the appointment troubleshooting which areas of responsibility could be honed back, which I could temporarily let go of, and how I might delegate some of Olivia’s homeschooling to Willa and Bex for a couple of months.

The atmosphere on the ride home was much more positive, and ripe with anticipation. Zale swung through a drive-thru for lunch saying he didn’t want to waste time going into a restaurant or having me cook. Fifteen minutes after we walked in the door he had me in bed and didn’t let me up for air for two hours.

By the time Willa and Bex arrived back with Olivia, I was a wet noodle.

“Holy manoli, chickie, I can almost smell it on you!”

“Rebecca Griffin, you are disgusting!” Willa laughed. I blushed.

Zale walked in from the back patio, both Willa and Bex turned around to appraise him. He froze momentarily under their scrutiny, then shook his head, his eyes all crinkled up. He walked right to me and dropped a kiss on my forehead. I beamed up at him. He took in my face and smiled at me, mouth and eyes.

He headed to the front door, collecting his keys and wallet from the pelican. “I’m going to pick up pizza for dinner. Do you have wine? Want me to pick up coolers?”

“Coolers!” Willa exclaimed .

“Hard lemonade,” Bex added.

He waved his hand in acknowledgement without turning around as he ambled out the front door.

“Ah, a man of so very few words,” Bex commented.

“Not as few as Mara right now!” Willa joked.

I laughed. We sat with Olivia for five minutes, determined that she needed her alone time to decompress, and headed out to the sunroom so she could watch her movie in peace.

“Before the booze gets here, let’s get serious for a moment.” Bex sat down across from me in the sunroom, studying me. “How are you doing, Mara?”

Willa sat close beside me, her pretty eyes focused on my face. She was almost clingy, and I felt bad for making her worry.

“I’m good. I’ve started to really understand myself. And I’ve made some positive changes, Zale too.”

“Share? Only if it’s not going to give me PTSD though…” Willa snorted.

I looked at Willa and laughed, underneath the adult, she was still my baby sister and didn’t want too many sexy details.

“I’ve learned a few things. First, I don’t think very highly of myself, and I project those feelings onto Zale. I’m trying to take what he says at face value, and not dissect every word.”

“That’s good. Appropriate. I don’t believe he would lie to you. ”

“I agree, Bex, he’s an honorable man, always has been,” Willa added softly.

The pain of remembrance was in her eyes, and I got tears in mine. I loved him even more for what he’d given my sister over the years. She didn’t like to talk about heavy issues so I wouldn’t go there, but it was clear she remembered.

“I need to do some work on my own, self-esteem work, identity work, and that should help me to see my own worth,” I said.

“Let’s do it together. We’ll all work at it. What do you think, Willa?” Bex asked.

“Always good to do this type of work. It’s been a while for me since I’ve done it and it might be interesting for you, Mara, to see how other people see themselves,” Willa mused.

“I love that idea!” I exclaimed. “We’ll go buy new journals, art journals, this will be fun!”

“Excellent. What else?”

“I lay out my boundaries with my mother. She texted me twice, both negative, on Tuesday. I didn’t respond. She phoned me today, wanting to visit and I told her I needed space for now. She took it fairly well. Not sure how her mind works, but that’s not my focus right now, and I’m acclimating to the fact that it’s not my responsibility. I don’t need to try to figure that out.”

“Good, Merry, that’s so good.” Willa smiled at me .

“It feels good, Willa, being strong enough to protect myself, and protect my family.”

“Holy manoli, Merry.” Bex sat back, thoughtful. “You’ve had a whirlwind couple of weeks.”

“I have. I really have. There’s one last thing. I’m coming to terms with the diagnosis, coming to terms with past behaviors that have hurt Zale.” My voice thickened but I fought back the wave of sorrow. “That’s still hard. But I’ve decided to shed the shame of the diagnoses. I don’t need to feel ashamed of something that’s not my fault, something that I took responsibility for as soon as I knew.”

“I agree, one hundred percent,” Willa affirmed.

“I’m not feeling it yet, but I’ve made the decision, so I guess it’s a ‘fake until you make it’ thing for now.”

“Whatever it takes, chickie,” Bex nodded in agreement.

Zale came back with the food and drinks, and we all ate together at the kitchen table, much like we used to before Rebecca found Rhys, until the noise of the chatter became too much for Olivia.

Zale took her into our room to play UNO, Sirius trucked along behind her as usual. At bedtime, she came out to say goodnight and then Zale tucked her into her bed.

We retired to the sunroom, listened to music, and overindulged in coolers and laughter, most of it at Rebecca’s expense when she told the story of Cole and Amelie deciding it was time for ‘the talk,’ and how they cornered her and Rhys into giving them the lowdown on the birds and the bees.

It seemed like only minutes had passed when the time came to drive the girls home. Zale came into the sunroom, his hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He shook his head at the giggles that we could not control. We had imbibed entirely too much.

“Three hangovers are in the works for tomorrow morning, I see.”

“No way!” shouted Rebecca. “I’ll have one of Rhys’ protein shakes before bed. He’ll fix me!”

“Oh, he’ll fix you all right!” I laughed and Zale joined me.

He looked at Willa from where she watched from the corner. “C’mon Wills, let's get you home. You want to stay here tonight?”

She shook her head. “I have an early day tomorrow,” she twittered happily.

His eyes crinkled. “I hope you’re just as cheerful about it in the morning.”

We hugged each other like we were parting for centuries, and I couldn't help but think how good it felt to be part of our mutual admiration society.

Zale ushered them out the door, unlocking the car from the front door. I stood watching him, a smile on my face. He turned to me and smiled, mouth and eyes. “I love you, gorgeous.”

“I love you, Zee. ”

I snoozed until he got home, then curled into his warm back and drifted off to sleep.