8. Mia

“Maybe if we can just do this quickly enough, I can get back to Genevieve before she moves on.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Therapy can’t be rushed, Mia.”

“I’m a quick learner. Just tell me what to do.”

“You need to calm down and stop expecting your problems to be solved in a few sessions. You’ve been carrying around this trauma since you were a child, and it’s going to take time to unravel, especially with the complication of your mother being back in your life.”

Mia resisted the urge to growl under her breath. “I am not losing Genevieve because of my past or my mother.”

“You seem determined to reestablish your relationship with her.”

“Of course I am—I love her!”

“And yet, you told her not to wait for you.”

“Damn right I did! It wouldn’t be fair for me to ask her to put her life on hold because of my mental nonsense.”

“The way you described it, it sounded like she was offering rather than you asking.”

Mia clutched the sides of the seat to prevent herself from getting up and storming off. She had been embarrassed enough afterward the first time she did it. She did not need a rerun of that, or the questions that followed when she came back.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I’m feeling fucking annoyed, that’s what! Do you really have to take everything and throw it back at me?”

“Do you feel I’m being unfair?”

Mia didn’t have an answer to that question—at least not one she could put into words—so she settled for glaring at the corner of the desk.

“Are you sure this is really about being fair to Genevieve? Do you not think you’re afraid of being betrayed by someone close to you again?”

“I’m not afraid of Genevieve betraying me. She would never do that.”

“On a conscious level, I’m sure you’re right, but what about the unconscious? Your mom was supposed to protect you, and she abandoned you—maybe not in the literal sense, but she wasn’t there for you. That kind of thing doesn’t come without its own scars. Do you think you might be scared to commit to Genevieve because you worry your issues will cause her to abandon you too?”

“No,” Mia said stubbornly.

Patrick went quiet, leaving Mia with nothing but her thoughts. She hated when he did this. Now she had nothing to do except examine what he had said and see if there was any truth to it—and unfortunately, there did seem to be a fair amount of truth in there.

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” she grumbled after a few minutes of silence. “I don’t see how knowing that helps me, though. Aren’t you supposed to be able to work some magic to fix my brain?”

“Only you can fix your brain, Mia. I’m simply here to guide you along the process.”

“If I’m the only one who can fix my brain, then I’m fucking doomed, aren’t I?” Mia was usually politer than this, but therapy worked on her last nerve and she couldn’t help snapping. Fortunately, Patrick was unflappably calm and didn’t seem to take offense easily.

“Why are you still here, Mia? I can see you don’t like me. It’s been four sessions. What keeps you coming back?”

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” Mia said grudgingly. She actually really did like Patrick and thought in other circumstances that they could even have been friends. “It’s the therapy. I don’t like people poking around in my head.”

“It makes you feel afraid? Vulnerable?”

“I guess. But I need to do this—for Genevieve, and myself.”

“I’m glad you put yourself on that list, because therapy seldom works if you are doing it purely for another person.”

“So when is it supposed to start working?”

“You tell me. Do you feel you’ve made any progress in the time you’ve been seeing me?”

Mia forced herself to think about it rather than giving an irritable, dismissive response.

“Honestly, I think things have only gotten worse. Not that I’m blaming you for that—and maybe they would have been even worse than they are now without you—but the longer I’m away from Genevieve, the worse it is. I feel like she was the last breath I took, and every day I’m apart from her, the more and more oxygen deprived I become.”

“That doesn’t sound particularly healthy. Couples should be able to function apart, no matter how close they are.”

“Well, if I was healthy, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

“I suppose not,” Patrick conceded. “Tell me more about your mother. Have you heard anything else from her?”

“Not in the last week. Getting the neighborhood watch involved was a good idea. I’ve seen from the messages in the group that she’s been chased off a few times by their patrols, but I don’t imagine that’ll deter her for long.”

“You can’t control her actions; you can only control yours. What do you think you’ll do when you next come into contact with her?”

“Well, telling her to go to hell clearly hasn’t had any effect. I was thinking of threatening legal action if she keeps harassing me. I know the police won’t do anything to help, but she doesn’t necessarily know that. Maybe if I hit her with an official letter from a lawyer, it’ll scare her away.”

“Do you think that’ll work?”

Mia sighed. “Probably not.”

“What do you think will work?”

“If I knew that, don’t you think I’d do that?”

“Have you considered talking to her?”

“This entire exercise is so that I don’t have to talk to her.”

“I know that you don’t want to pick up a relationship with her again, and I agree with you on that. I just think that perhaps if you talked to her, it might help. She clearly doesn’t realize how badly she fucked up with you. Maybe if you explained it to her, she’d understand just how far past saving your relationship really is.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, but Mia didn’t like it. She didn’t want to bring up the past with her mom. That would surely only make things worse… but what if it was the only way to dissuade her?

“I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. Our time is up, but I’ll see you next week.”

“Thanks, Patrick,” Mia said grudgingly. She left the office, grateful as she always was to be out from under Patrick’s scrutiny.

It had been four weeks since she saw Genevieve, and the hole Genevieve had left inside her was as large and painful as ever. It was like the best parts of Mia had been ripped out, and she had no idea how to get them back. She wished she could see Genevieve’s lovely blue eyes again. She missed them. She missed losing herself in Genevieve’s kindness and the safety that she felt when she was with her.

The nightmares were worse than ever, and she was even having trouble with her art. That, more than anything, bothered her. Art had always been her solace, but it seemed like the passion she had for it had gone out of it. Mia had had plenty of passion for her work before she even met Genevieve but trying to convince herself that this passion should have remained untouched after Genevieve left was not having the desired results.

Mia went to bed wondering about the potential conversation with her mom. What would she say? She would have to give evidence, because her mom would surely argue against the charges. There was so much evidence, Mia didn’t even know where to start.

Later, she understood that it had been a mistake to go to sleep pondering the worst things her stepfather had ever done, but that knowledge came too late to save her.

Mia shot up in bed, screaming her lungs out after one of the worst nightmares she’d ever had. Sobbing hysterically, she reached for her phone automatically, navigating to Genevieve’s number with shaking fingers.

The phone rang for so long that Mia started to fear it wouldn’t be picked up, but eventually, it was.

“Mia?”

“Gen-vieve—help—I—Gen—” Mia couldn’t draw in enough breath to speak, nor do so clearly through her sobs. The world was spinning, and the thundering of her heart seemed to drown out all other noises.

“… are you? Mia, can you hear me? Where are you? Do you need an ambulance?”

“N-n-n—”

“Where are you?”

Mia managed to choke out the word home before falling back on the bed, clutching her chest as it sent sharp pains through her torso. She wondered if she’d been wrong in telling Genevieve she didn’t need an ambulance, but how was she supposed to say that when she could barely muster enough oxygen to keep herself conscious?

“I’m on my way to you, Mia. Just hang in there. I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes? How the hell was she supposed to survive like this for ten minutes? Mia spluttered incoherently but couldn’t get words to come.

“I’ve got to hang up now to drive, but I’ll see you soon. I’ve still got the spare key; I’ll let myself in. You’ve got this, Mia.”

The line clicked dead.

You’ve got this? Who was Genevieve kidding. Mia had never had anything less in her entire life.

She thrashed on the bed, desperately trying to breathe, her vision flashing between now and scenes from many years ago.

She was just trying to find her phone, which had dropped somewhere on the bed, to call 911, sure she was dying, when the door burst open.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Genevieve gathered Mia into her arms, holding Mia’s head to her chest. “I’ve got you, Mia. You’re having a panic attack. Just breathe for me.”

Mia drew in what felt like her first full breath in weeks. Just being held by Genevieve seemed to ease some of the constriction in her chest. She knew that Genevieve had helped Kate through many panic attacks, and she had refined those skills with Mia.

Mia clutched at Genevieve’s shoulders for dear life, shaking and doing her best to breathe.

“Follow my hand, sweetheart. In… and out… in… and out…”

Mia lost herself in the familiar ritual. Genevieve didn’t stop until her breathing was slow and even, though tears still ran thickly down her face.

Only now that she was calmer did Mia realize what she’d done. She had left Genevieve to protect her from this kind of mental nonsense, and now Mia had gone and drawn her right back into it.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but those weren’t the words that came out. “Stay with me? Just for tonight? Please?”

“Of course, I’m not going anywhere. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Genevieve went briefly to the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth that she used to tenderly wipe Mia’s face. Mia had to admit that she felt better afterward. The idea of sleep wasn’t exactly inviting, but she was exhausted by the ordeal, and when Genevieve coaxed her to lie down again, Mia didn’t resist.

It took a long time for her to drift off again, but eventually, Genevieve’s steady heartbeat and breathing lulled her back to sleep.

When Mia woke, it didn’t take long for the reality of the previous night to come crashing back to her. She could hardly deny that reality when she had one of her legs thrown over Genevieve’s thigh and her arm trapped under Genevieve’s waist.

Mia squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could go back to the previous night and make better life choices.

Her choices had only hurt her more, because she now understood something she hadn’t before.

She had been a fool to let Genevieve go. Genevieve had been willing to walk through this with her, and Mia should have let her. Genevieve was the love of her life, and Mia had thrown that love away.

But it was too late to do anything about that now. Mia loved Genevieve too much to mess around with her again. She knew that if she asked Genevieve to take her back, Genevieve would, which was exactly why Mia couldn’t ask.

She was too unstable to maintain a steady relationship—last night showed that much. If she started again with Genevieve now, she would only hurt her. Genevieve would do everything she could to take care of Mia, and Mia would let her, to Genevieve’s detriment.

Mia knew Genevieve’s history. She wouldn’t let that history repeat itself, not when she had any say in the matter.

“Genevieve. Genevieve, wake up.”

“Mmm?”

Genevieve’s eyes opened, slowly focusing on Mia. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Mia steeled herself. “You have to go.”

Genevieve’s air of sleepy contentment vanished as she stiffened. “What?”

“You have to go. This was a mistake.”

“How can you say that? After last night… I thought you wanted me.”

I do want you. More than you can possibly imagine.

Mia couldn’t say that, though. She couldn’t allow Genevieve to think there was hope for them. A clean break would be better.

“I was in a panic. I reacted badly. I’m sorry I pulled you into this. I wish I could take it back, but the best I can do now is try to correct that mistake. Please, I need you to go.”

Mia hated the hurt on Genevieve’s face, but she knew that this was the least painful option, for Genevieve if not for herself.

“Mia, think about this. You know we’re right together. We can do this. We can figure out a way through it together.”

Mia braced herself for the biggest lie she’d ever told. “That’s not what I want. I want you to go.”

Genevieve stiffened. “If that’s what you really want.”

“It is.”

“Then I suppose there’s nothing more to say.”

“No, there isn’t,” Mia whispered.

She watched Genevieve gather her clothes and leave, taking Mia’s heart with her.