I shifted, hip to hip, on the faded blue velour couch. I felt like rocking to and fro, frontward then backward to stop the memories flooding my mind. A veritable storm of pain.
“Let’s see”, I said. The hint of incense rolled under my nose from the corner of the room where candles were burning to relax clients voicing their troubled thoughts. The incense caused me to wipe my face with the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Explain how that happened”, she said.
Cloudy thoughts went through my head. She really isn’t going to let up, is she? “Well, I was all alone. I wasn’t sure what to do. Quite frankly, I was scared”
“You were scared because you were alone?”, she questioned.
“Yea, but not just alone. I had just ended a bad relationship, so I was fresh with pain. I kept obsessing about why he left and how I was probably the worst person in the world for it.”
Sharon, a therapist of about 45 years, nodded her understanding. “Often young women such as you feel responsible for the abuse”.
“I just kept thinking that if I were a better wife, a better person that he would love me. That I’d done something so fatally wrong that I was not truly worthy of being loved.”
“So the abuse made you feel like you had no worth as a human being. You were essentially defective and unlovable”
“Exactly, I was, excuse the superlative, the worst person in the world”.
I leaned back on the couch. The lights were dim. I could only see the shadows of her face as she elicited the traumatic memories of those ten months of utter hell. Rocking back and forth, I caught myself. It was like I was a small child again, forever rocking the memories away.
Sharon observed knowing that I rocked to wile away the sorrow that can only come from complete rejection. “So after that night, how long did you stay?”
“Um, only a few days”, a lump caught in my throat. “I really had to leave then.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, two days later, we went to the paint store to pick out a color”. Clarifying I said, “Paint for the living room for the new house. The one that we were going to move to the next week. So we were looking at paint samples, various shades of white, you know.”
“Yes, go on”
“Well, he picked up a color, a white but with a hint of pink to it. I told him that it probably only looked good in this sample square; it would look pink on a bigger surface. Pink on the wall.”
“It will not”, he snapped at me. “It’ll be perfect”.
“I think it will be too pink” Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my skin.
“We need to go home. You don’t know your place”.
Tossing the sample paint chip aside, he led me out of the aisle, past the registers, and to the car. I remember my heart racing, the dread sinking feeling in my gut that something tragic was unfolding.
I gulped. The blue couch and the woman sitting across from me receded as I got lost in the memory.
Rocking back and forth, “He took me home. When we got back to the apartment, he told me to start dinner. I did. I did it willingly, hopeful that the paint disagreement was far behind us”.
My little dog, Pete, toddled to my feet, anticipating scraps of food.
“Cutting the potatoes, skin off, knife through, cutting into chunks, then cubes diced. The lull of the action seemed a welcome diversion. Soon, I felt something more behind me. Brusquely, freezing. I felt hard metal against my neck and the glint of a blade out of the corner of my eye.
“He said, next time you’ll keep your mouth shut. You know nothing. You’re worthless, useless. Keep your opinions to yourself, woman”. Shrinking, I turned hoping the blade wouldn’t follow. I cried. I cried sobbing loudly”.
My little Pete jumped excitedly on his leg. He kicked at the pup sending him sprawling on the floor.
“At that moment, I realized he wouldn’t change. I was in danger. I picked up Pete and slid my way across the kitchen. I grabbed my keys and ran to my car. Freedom.. I looked down halfway through the 1,000-mile trek to my parents’ house. I wore no shoes. I leaned over to pet my pup asleep on the seat beside me.”
“It’s going to be okay. We’re never going back”, I said to him.
Sharon was looking at me, “You have a lot to be proud of”, she said reassuringly.
“I’m not sure”.
“You did the right thing. You are strong”.
The session came to a conclusion. Walking out of the office, the soft incense and faded blue couch now faded behind me. I stepped out of the office. The sun hit me in the face and left me temporarily blinded. Disoriented but lighter, I trudged back into the day.
Its a good start, we want to read what comes next.
Love this! Your style of writing is easy for the reader to ignite all of their senses.
I shall wait patiently for the next chapter….