54. Layne

Chapter fifty-four

Layne

“ L ayne,” Dr. Medina says, pulling me from my thoughts. My eyes shift back to hers before momentarily glancing at the pier.

“I’m still here.” I say, letting out a breath. We’re outside on the balcony, staring out at the bay. The choppy, dark water taunting me. I shift in my chair as I look up at her.

After coming home from the hospital, I agreed to start seeing a therapist. I need to get better. Not just for Wes, but for me. If I am going to really try, then I need to do everything I can to make sure I am trying.

Dr. Medina nods understandingly, her gentle gaze encouraging me to open up. “I’m glad you’re still here, Layne,” she says softly. “It takes courage to seek help and work towards healing.”

I take a moment to collect my thoughts before speaking. “It’s been a struggle,” I admit, my voice tinged with vulnerability. “Ever since the incident, everything feels... overwhelming. Guilt, sadness, fear — they all consume me. I can’t seem to escape the memories, the what-ifs. ”

Dr. Medina leans forward slightly, her compassionate presence anchoring me. “It’s understandable to feel that way, Layne. Trauma has a way of gripping our minds tightly. But remember, healing is a journey, and you’re taking the first step by being here. By admitting that you can’t do it on your own anymore, and that is the best first step you can take.”

I let her words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within me. “I want to get better,” I assert, determination lacing my voice. “For Wes, for myself. I don’t want my life’s tragedies to consume me anymore. I want to find peace and rebuild my life.”

Dr. Medina smiles warmly, her support palpable. “That’s a powerful mindset, Layne. And I’m here to help you navigate through the pain and find the strength within you. Together, we’ll explore coping strategies, process your emotions, and gradually guide you towards healing.”

I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. “Thank you, Dr. Medina,” I say sincerely. “I know it won’t be easy, but I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to heal.”

As we continue our session on the balcony overlooking the bay, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope when I look out at the choppy water. With Dr. Medina’s help, I know I have a chance to reclaim my life and be the person I was always meant to be.

My tattoo artist, Nadia, finishes up the tattoo that she has been working at for the last twenty minutes, and I can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. The buzzing of the tattoo gun may be loud, but it’s nothing compared to the constant ache in my heart. Each prick of the needle on my collarbone serves as a reminder of the pain I carry within .

The tiny forget-me-not flowers, with their delicate baby blue petals, holds a profound meaning for me. It symbolizes the child we lost, a tiny life that will forever remain in our hearts. As Wes sits beside me, gripping my hand tightly, his own forget-me-not tattoo on his thumb serves as a silent pledge of solidarity. His love for our child that we never got to hold.

I feel a sense of gratitude towards Nadia. Her skillful hands have turned Wes and I’s shared pain into a work of art. It’s a humbling experience to have someone create something so meaningful on my skin.

Nadia announces that she’s almost done, both relief and sadness washes over me. The tattoo looks incredible, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to honor our lost baby in this way. It’s a permanent reminder of the love and loss we’ve endured.

“It’s perfect,” my voice choked full of emotion as I hold the handheld mirror up and look it over. “Thank you. So much.”

I gaze down at the forget-me-not flower I’m reminded of the fragility of life and the strength it takes to carry on. Though the pain in my heart may never fully fade, the healing I am doing will make it a little easier to breathe as time goes on.

“Now they will always be a part of us, Ma Petite Mort .“ Wes says, as he hands Nadia the cash for both our tattoos. “Come on, let’s hit up the store for some groceries and get back home. My parents’ flight should land soon and I’ll need to go get them.”

Walking hand in hand, Wes and I make our way to the grocery store on the corner, finding solace in the mundane tasks of everyday life. As we gather the groceries, the mundane becomes a welcome distraction from the ache in our hearts. We fill our cart with fresh produce, pantry staples, and a few treats to indulge in later. Wes’s parents will arrive soon, and we want to have a tasty meal waiting for them.

Returning home, we unpack the groceries and I get dinner prepped. The loft feels quieter than usual. I grab my phone from the charging dock and sync it to the sound system, “ Jekyll and Hyde” , blasts through the speakers. Wes looks over at me from the pantry, eyebrow raised.

“It’s too quiet.” I shrug, laying the steaks on the cutting board, giving them a generous seasoning. “Will you go set up the grill for me so I can cook these while you are picking them up from the airport?”

“ As you wish , Ma Petite Mort .“ Wes chuckles as he closes the pantry door, maneuvering behind me and smacking my ass as he walks by.

“How about you stow the nerdy Princess Bride references?“ I shout over to him.

“Never.” He smirks as he makes his way onto the balcony.

When Wes leaves to pick up his parents from the airport, I find myself alone in our quiet home. Sitting in the living room, I trace my finger over the delicate petals of the forget-me-not tattoo. It’s a bittersweet reminder, one that I know I will cherish forever. The thoughts want to creep in, but I remember the breathing techniques Dr. Medina has been having me do. With one hand on my heart and the other on my stomach, a deep breath in and hold.

Then let everything out.

The door downstairs opens, and I can hear Wes talking with his dad. His parents have arrived safely, ready to offer their support and love during this difficult time. The sound of their feet hitting the stairs has me popping up from the couch. When Wes’s Ma comes into view, I run over to her. She has her arms open wide for a hug. The comfort her embrace gives has me whimpering.

“There, there. It’s alright, love.” She kisses the top of my head and moves us to the side so Wes and his dad can come up. She holds me, pouring all the love that a mother would give to her child that’s hurting.

I cling to Wes’s Ma, feeling her warmth and love enveloping me. Her presence is a soothing balm to my wounded heart. As Wes and his dad approach, she gently moves us to the side, making room for them to join us. Holding me close, she continues to pour out her motherly affection, understanding the pain I am going through.

Wes’s dad, with a concerned expression on his face, reaches out and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. His touch reassures me I am not alone in this difficult time. “Such a strong woman ya are,” He says in a fatherly tone. He turns to his son and pulls him into a hug, whispering in his son’s ear. I catch the last bit he says to him.

“I’m so proud to be your Da. I just know you’re going to make a wonderful Da when the time is right.” The sound of my husband sniffling into his dad’s chest hurts my heart, but I know he needs to hear those words.

Wes’s Ma continues to hold me close, giving me all the love that I never got as a little girl. Showing me what a real mother does for their child. Even though I’m only her daughter-in-law. Her presence alone brings me a sense of comfort and reassurance. I listen intently as Wes’s dad speaks to his son, his words filled with pride and admiration. His fatherly tone resonates deeply within me, reminding me of the strength that lies within.

Together, this little family stands as a united front, ready to face whatever challenges come our way. The love and support from Wes’s parents has given us the strength to carry on, to navigate the difficult times, hoping the future holds every new opportunity imaginable. Wes and I are not alone in this journey of healing; we have a family that will always be there for us.