45. find the stars

45

FIND THE STARS

Christmas Day is bittersweet. Though I do my best to hide it, a pall of melancholy hangs over me. I wish I had my phone. I wish I were watching Vincent open presents.

I wish…

I'd never met Dr. Leo Chastain.

Jameson's revelations added more pieces to the puzzle, which although clearer is still incomplete. I understand now where my brother was coming from. And seeing Leo, Jameson, and Kevin sharing a cup of coffee and catching up isn't so shocking anymore. They played hockey on the same team for years.

I wish I didn't have so many unanswered questions. I wish the heaviness in my chest would go away. I wish I weren't so angry, because I miss him. I want to understand, to forgive, to fall back into the safe space we were making in the world.

I don't know if I can .

"Want to talk about it?" asks Jessica, perching on the patio chair next to mine.

I close my eyes. Focus on the warmth of the sun on my face. Listen to the wind rustling through trees in the backyard, dogs barking, distant cars, and muted Christmas music from inside the house.

In the back of my mind, I hear Dr. Wilson's voice.

"What if instead of focusing so much on what you should and shouldn't do or what is or isn't healthy, you try focusing on what makes you happy?"

"You still don't get it. I don't trust the things that make me happy."

And therein lies the problem. As much as I don't want it to be true, Leo proved me right. I shouldn't have trusted him.

"I don't know how to forgive someone who lied to me," I tell Jessica, turning my head to look at her.

She studies my face. "How bad was the lie?"

"On a scale of one to ten? Maybe a six." Sitting up, I swing my feet to the ground facing her. "Did Dad tell you where I was right before his heart attack?"

She nods. "A treatment program of some kind. He said you had some lasting trauma from an accident and miscarriage. I'm so sorry, honey."

I smile tightly. "It's okay. I'm glad you know. Saves us an awkward conversation. Anyway, I fell in love with my therapist there. We ran into each other at my work a few months ago and have since started seeing each other. "

Her eyes widen comically. "Oh. Yikes."

I snort. "To put it mildly."

"Do you mind me asking what he lied about?"

I have no idea how to explain, but I try. "He's, um, known me—about me—for years, but I didn't meet him until going to rehab. He and Jameson are friends, but neither of them told me."

Her head tilts. "Has he explained why?"

I look up to see a hawk soaring high above. "That's the problem. I'm so fucking angry about the fact he lied, I can't listen to him. I want to, but feel… all fucked up inside about it. I can honestly say I never trusted a partner before him. I've never been so blindly, stupidly in love. I knew it was going to implode, but I got involved with him anyway."

"Sounds like you're more angry at yourself than him," murmurs Jessica.

My gaze jerks to her. "Ew."

She smiles gently. "For me, when I'm struggling with someone else's behavior, it's always a good idea to look at my own first. Maybe it's so hard to forgive him because you still haven't forgiven yourself for something. I don't know everything this family has gone through over the years, but I know you've had your share of troubles. Have you forgiven yourself, Mia?"

I glare at her. "I don't like you anymore."

She laughs, then stands and drops a kiss on my head. "I still like you. When you're ready, you can borrow my car if you'd like."

She walks back into the house. I hug my knees to my chest and watch the sky slowly darken .

Have I forgiven myself?

For lying, stealing, and manipulating? For causing so much worry, then dismissing or minimizing that worry? For ignoring and resenting my brother and dad? For finding weaknesses in others and exploiting them? For taking risks, pushing boundaries, putting people on edge… For breaking them?

I think back to the amends list I made at Oasis with Dr. Reynolds— may she suffer an incurable yeast infection —and my progress. The list itself was shockingly short. Seven names. It would have been eight, but I'd already apologized to Declan for ghosting him.

Amends to my father and brother are done, at least in the sense of formal apologies. I'm still making up for a lifetime of assholery, rebuilding trust, et cetera. Kevin is also handled. I even called Jill, my dad's ex-wife; she was stunned to hear from me, initially suspicious, but in the end surprisingly receptive.

The next two were more random—I owed an old friend two hundred dollars that I borrowed years ago and never paid back, and I unknowingly slept with my college roommate's boyfriend in a drunken blackout. She caught us in the act and was devastated. That one was by far the hardest, the shame deepest. After sending her a message on Facebook asking if she'd like to meet for coffee, she responded she'd rather light herself on fire. I finally typed out the amends and sent them, but never heard back.

Only one name is left on the list. One I've ignored until now.

Amelia Sloan .

Mine.

I don't end up borrowing Jessica's car, though I do fantasize overlong about showing up at Leo's in a blaze of Christmas presents and glory. He'd atone, tell me he loves me, and beg convincingly for me to forgive him. Because I'm such an awesome person, I'd accept. But not before giving him a piece of my mind—as long as Vince wasn't around, of course.

Instead, Jameson drops me off at home late that evening. I work early in the morning but more importantly, I need to feed Ferdi. Leo or no Leo, life goes on.

Kinsey and Nix come over for a while to exchange gifts and drop off my phone. Their effort to act like nothing's wrong is more appreciated than irritating. They go apeshit over the gift certificate I got them to go skydiving together, and I almost faint when they give me a brand-new wetsuit I can only afford in my dreams.

When they finally leave, it's past eleven. I get ready for bed, then curl up under the comforter with a purring Ferdi. And finally, I power up my phone.

Thirteen text messages.

Six calls.

Three voicemails.

Some of the texts are from friends wishing me a merry Christmas. Most of the calls and voicemails are from Jameson. There's only one missed call from Leo and no voicemails. My heart beating a staccato rhythm in my chest, I open Leo's texts. After the initial burst of It's not what you think and Please, let me explain lines , he sent one more .

When you're ready to talk, I'll be here.