The Mad Dash
*
Passport, wallet, and snacks
“Okay, if you start in the bedroom, we’ll stay out of your way. Can I get you guys anything?”
Robert was the perfect host, even during an international move.
I chuckled as I sat on the floor of our nearly empty living room.
Three burly movers entered the apartment, efficiently lifting furniture and packing items. They walked up to tables, swept everything into boxes, sealed them, and carried them out without a word.
I couldn’t help but laugh at their speed—until I saw the time.
“Shit, I need to go to my therapy session with Paige.”
Robert set aside four glasses of water and nodded. “No worries, I’ve got this. Will you be back in time for lunch with your family?”
I snorted. “Nope. You can say goodbye to everyone while I hit a patio bar.”
At that, he darted over and dug his fingers into my ribs, making me yelp. I bent forward, laughing, just as his lips crashed into mine. I turned my head and glanced at the kitchen island.
“Did you move my purse?”
Fifteen minutes later, after helping the movers unpack five boxes to locate my purse (which held my passport, immigration paperwork, wallet, and car keys), I was finally on the road.
My to-do list raced through my mind, but this time, I was ready. For once, I felt excited, not scared, about what was next.
I felt relieved when I pulled into my parking spot outside Paige’s office. Mentally, I could say goodbye on my own terms. I was Bree—my own woman.
“Are you excited?”
I smiled at Paige, seeing her with her silvery hair down for the first time. “I am. I thought I would be more unregulated with the funeral yesterday, but I feel terrific.”
Paige nodded. “I want to prepare you for that. Part of it is bustling—your brain won’t let you dwell, but once you can relax, it could all hit you.”
I shrugged; that made perfect sense. Paige cleared her throat. “Or, if you do have ADHD, you could simply be able to separate all of this from your focus; it’s a type of object permanence issue.”
I laughed at this. “Wait, like a baby?”
She nodded. “Kind of. If your mother does not remind you daily, she will cease to exist in your memory. It’s great for trauma but terrible for friendships.”
I nodded. “So, what do I do to prepare for this?”
Paige smiled and said, “Be kind to yourself, Bree. You’ve accomplished so much over the past eight months. You were never broken, so there was never anything to fix. Still, you have to stay alert for signs of dysregulation and reach out for help when you see them.”
Asking for help was the one thing I never did well, and now I needed to be prepared to do so going forward. “I will try.”
“And you might fail. However, that’s part of the journey. I know you will do great.”
I heard the soft timer go off, and I stood up, taking in the grey office with the pastel pillows. I smiled at Paige. “Well, I’ll do my best.”
Paige stood up and surprised me. “Would you like a hug?”
I chuckled. “Paige! I picked you because you refused human intimacy!”
Paige snorted and pulled me into a hug, which I melted into. Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes as she added, “You will do great things, Bree. You have to stop holding yourself back.”
I accepted her words, and then she added offhandedly, “Nevertheless, I want to hear updates and see photos.”
I closed my eyes and fully embraced her. I then said softly, “Thank you for believing in me.”
Paige released me and smiled. “You did that yourself; I just facilitated it.”
I walked toward the door and paused. “You once mentioned I remind you of your daughter. What’s her name?”
Paige looked up at the ceiling and sighed. She looked back at me. “You are so nosy.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “Her name is Margaret, but we call her Meg. She’s a spitfire, just like you. She also had to find herself.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Paige. You are a good mom; Meg is lucky to have you.”
When I got home, I found Robert, Matthew, Jason, and Eddy eating pizza in our nearly empty house. I set my keys on the counter and called, “These won’t get packed now, right?”
Robert snorted as I looked around. “It’s spotless!”
Jason chuckled. “Your dude was supposed to sell me his car for Tomas. When he didn’t show up, I checked in and discovered he was trying to clean the apartment to get his deposit back. I roped Matt and Eddy into coming to get some late breakfast, at least.”
I hugged my brothers. “Thank you, guys.”
Matt was the first to pull away. “Dad’s almost done grilling, and we’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of us, so let’s go.”
I smiled, then glanced back at Robert. He was staring at the blank wall where our bookshelves used to be. I wrapped my arms around his waist, surprised when he flinched.
“You okay?”
He blinked. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine, babe.”
He kissed the side of my head rougher than usual. Everything—dealing with movers, my family, and the emotional weight of leaving—was taking a toll on him.
When we arrived at my dad’s new house, Robert was still in a daze. My dad piled his plate with ribs, a burger, and a bratwurst, and Robert mumbled, “Thank you.”
He walked out to the picnic table in the backyard, and I followed close behind.
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
Robert shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’m just drained. It’s been a crazy day, and we’re leaving tomorrow.”
I sat on the picnic table beside his plate and looked down at him. “I know. That’s why I’m worried—you don’t seem okay.”
He let out a long sigh. “Bree, we handle stress differently. You’re out here looking like Superwoman, and that’s awesome, but I need a little space to process everything. Go spend time with your family. I promise I’ll be better by tonight.”
I didn’t entirely trust that answer, but he wasn’t wrong. This was classic Robert-under-stress behavior. He was shutting down.
Relationships, or what I believed to be functional adult relationships, required an ebb and flow. I needed to be the strong one so he could be weak.
I needed to be She-Hulk—to keep things moving. That meant saying goodbye and finding something good in my family, even if it was just for one night.
I spent the afternoon laughing with my siblings, admiring how our fights felt playful again, as we all played monopoly. My dad moved to the living room to sit in his recliner and watch YouTube videos claiming giants built the pyramids, to Robert’s chagrin.
I didn’t always like them, but at least, I had them.
Later, when we got back to the apartment, Jason followed us in with paperwork. Robert signed over his car and handed him the keys, then glared at my Kia Spectra.
We should’ve driven straight to the dealership.
Instead of Robert hurting my princess’s feelings, we could’ve been selling her to the dealership, curling up in our blankets on the floor, and watching movies on our tablets.
Instead, we were going to dinner with his father. Now, endings came with appetizers.
“I hate driving this car.”
I frowned. “Why? She’s perfect.”
He snorted, and the temporary humor cracked as he reversed, my Spectra groaning. “Come on. We’ve got dinner with William, and then we have to take this to the dealership to trade it in.”
When we arrived for dinner with William and his new wife, Jennifer, Stepmom #3, I noticed that Robert seemed more numb than usual. I hugged the shorter, bald man, who had the same face as Robert, but instead of a trim beard, he had a white cop’s mustache.
We went to a Tex-Mex franchise that William loved as Robert tried to reconnect with him.
“I told all the guys at the gun shop how awesome it is that you’re moving to England,” William said.
Robert nodded, offering a faint smile.
“Does Lucy know you’re leaving?”
“No,” Robert replied. “I filed a restraining order against her and Tony months ago.”
William grunted in agreement. “Good. They deserve worse.”
I frowned slightly. A man who had abandoned his son to an abusive environment—and then didn’t fight for custody when the abuser adopted him—was now claiming the moral high ground. But this wasn’t the time to argue, especially not with Robert’s last remaining family member.
“I got the guest bed made up for you guys, by the way,” William said. “I locked the door so the dogs haven’t been able to go on the bed or anything.”
I opened my mouth to say we were going to camp in the apartment, but Robert spoke first, softly. “Thanks, Dad. That’ll be great.”
I whipped my head his direction, only to find his face blank. Why did he change his mind and why didn’t he tell me?
Jennifer reached over and touched my hand. I took a sip of my margarita and wondered what the hell was going on. Startled, I looked over at the late-forties blonde, dressed in a bright pink V-cut T-shirt, and gave her a weak smile. “How are you doing, Jennifer?”
She smiled. While William was always a point of tension, Jennifer was not. She was like a breath of fresh air, unlike William, the storm cloud.
“I’m so jealous you guys are leaving tomorrow,” she said. “We went to England a few times when I was a kid—it was so much fun.”
I nodded. Jennifer came from a well-off family. She traveled the world, knew interesting people, and lived a vibrant life. Then she married William—a man content to live in his house until he died, unless he could somehow move back to Colorado.
This was all a fantasy for them, anyway. Jennifer would never move away from her mother, and William would only move where he wanted as long as Jennifer went along. Meaning they would be all right here, in Kansas City, forever.
We struggled with our identities, trying to make sense of our existence.
“Just don’t drink the milk.”
Wait, what?
I turned to Jennifer. “What about the milk?”
She pointed upward. “I know, the music is so loud here. I said the milk was warm. When I asked them for chilled milk, they brought me ice!”
I raised a brow. “That was over thirty-five years ago.”
I turned and looked at Robert, ready to exchange a ‘ Did you hear this? ’ look, only to see him looking down at the table in a daze. I reached for his hand, which was clammy.
Turning back to Jennifer, I found her unfazed by my skepticism. She replied solemnly, “Just be prepared.”