Chapter Twenty-One
“Is there a way I can meet with you before I start paying for sessions?”
“Of course. We can do a free fifty-minute chemistry meeting. That way you can see my office, check out my vibe, and I can explain to you the kind of therapy I offer. It can help to make sure my style will match your therapy goals.”
Mo sighed, sliding to sit upright on the patio chair just outside of Hecate Tattoo. The street was sparsely populated, a side effect of a summer weeknight near Stanford University. She liked the easy quiet, though, especially in comparison to Bud’s overbearing nature inside the loft apartment.
“I heard uncertainty in that exhale,” the woman pointed out, causing Mo to laugh.
“No, no. I am committed to starting therapy, Kate. I just…I don’t know if I’ll be around for office visits,” Mo explained, her voice lilting. She reached up to rub at her shoulder, the dull ache still reminding her of there. Of her. “I might be commuting back and forth—”
“Oh, really? Did you want to do virtual, then?”
Mo grimaced. Why was her first thought when scheduling therapy about Aspen? It was a fling. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, here Mo was, considering her while making appointments. Even bringing commuting up. Her head began to spin. “It’s complicated?”
“Ah, okay.” Kate’s voice was firm but comforting. “How about we meet in the middle? Chemistry sessions can be in person, but we play whether or not you want to do virtual by ear? I’m fine with being flexible.”
“Sure. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, Mo. I’m a therapist. It’s kind of my job to be good at accommodating your needs. What’s your schedule look like this week?”
Mo looked across the street, the sun barely showing above the buildings as it made its descent for the day. The slow sunset matched her dim mood, reminding Mo it had been a few long, hard days since she had spoken to Annie. Since Aspen left her at her Outback.
“I’m free tomorrow? And like, every day after that?” Mo shrugged. “I am still trying to figure my life out.”
“Let’s do it tomorrow, eight in the morning,” Kate confirmed, her keyboard strokes evident in the background. “Sound agreeable?”
“Yeah, eight o’clock,” Mo said just as the bell above Hecate Tattoo’s door rang.
She turned to see a beautiful woman exit, her newly tattooed arm shiny from the Saniderm.
Mo watched her confidently stroll across the street, looking proudly down at her arm as she went.
“Can you email me your office’s address? ”
“Certainly. I will see you tomorrow, Mo.”
“Okay,” Mo mumbled, hanging up the phone with a huge exhale.
“Who were you talking to?”
Mo jumped, turning to see Opal slide into the patio chair next to her. “Fuck, you scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” Opal reached out to lightly rub along Mo’s arm. “I finished my appointment early, so I thought I’d come sit with you. Here.”
“It was just my new therapist,” Mo explained, turning more toward her friend just as she handed over a cold, tall can of hard cider. She graciously took it, nodding in appreciation. “Thank you.”
“I know you prefer cider to red wine.” Opal smiled, bringing her own wineglass up to her lips for a quick sip. “It’s a new brand at the co-op down the street. I’m unsure if it’s any good or not.”
“I do love cider.”
“How’s your shoulder?” Opal asked, her voice inquisitive.
“It’s fine. I still don’t think I needed to go to urgent care,” Mo replied, studying the can with so much fervor that she didn’t hear Opal’s response.
It was white with a drawn picture of a man in a black suit, sporting a tall black top hat.
Drysdale and Humboldt Cider Co. were drawn in wooden block letters, printed across the side and bottom. Mo’s heart sank.
“Mo?” Opal asked with worry, her hand back on Mo’s arm. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Mo whispered, setting the unopened can down between her feet. She stayed bent over, wringing her hands. “Did I miss a question?”
Opal didn’t answer right away, instead leaning down to take her can of cider. Mo then heard a gentle scrape of the patio chair, causing her to look up. Opal was sliding her chair to look directly at Mo, and she tilted her head in confusion.
“Turn your chair for me,” Opal commanded gently. “We need to talk.”
Mo did as she was told, sliding her own chair toward Opal until their knees were touching.
At first she looked into her friend’s eyes, but that proved to be too difficult, so instead she looked over her shoulder at the orange and pink sky.
After a long moment, Mo heard the telltale pop of a can being opened.
“Here.”
Mo took her drink, staring at the can for a few moments before taking a sip. It tasted exactly like it did a few weeks back when Aspen served it to her. Mo smiled, even as her chest burned at the memory.
“I want to tell you a secret. I usually struggle sharing my thoughts, but you’re family, so I want you to know.”
That got Mo’s full attention. “Of course.”
“The past couple of years, when April rolls around, the burnout of just”—Opal clicked her tongue, obviously trying to choose her words carefully—“living feels more catastrophic than the last. Like a bomb has been strapped to me, ticking down, waiting patiently for the springtime lull before exploding inside of my chest and shattering everything that makes me…me. I used to wonder if I was on some sort of depression clock, doomed to feel smaller than an ant every late spring from here to eternity. This year is when it finally hit me. April was when Annie would ask me about our yearly hiking trip.”
Mo fully met Opal’s soft brown eyes.
“Let me rephrase that.” Opal’s lips tilted awkwardly as her head moved slightly to the left.
“April was just the month when Annie would beg me to hike Redwood Creek with her again. All of my built-up anxiety, creative blocks, daily fatigue…I would leave it along the rocky creek bed with my best friend at my side. And when Annie died, I couldn’t see myself going back there.
Traversing that place without her sounded inconceivable.
It felt like betrayal. But this past April, I did.
It was incredible to be there, and while I was obviously alone, I wasn’t alone, you know? ”
Mo nodded along, unsure of how to respond.
“And I know Bud and I pushed a little too hard. It was difficult enough to lose her that we didn’t want to lose you too.
I just thought about the peace it brought me and maybe, just maybe, it could do something for you too.
So when I saw the light in your eyes again when you returned…
” Opal hesitated, leaning forward to catch Mo’s gaze again. “What happened in the redwoods?”
“I don’t really know,” Mo responded, her hand instinctively rubbing at her shoulder.
“I know you’re a private woman,” Opal continued, still staring intently. “So I’m going to just tell you what I see and you can decide whether or not you are ready to talk, okay?”
“All right.”
“You’ve not had this kind of light in your eyes since before Annie passed away. Bud told me this morning that you did in fact get the phone installed. The one the woman you met suggested?”
“Yes.” Mo shifted uncomfortably, her mind picturing Aspen. “Aspen.”
“Aspen,” Opal repeated back. After a few moments, a knowing smile widened on her face. “Did you talk to Annie?”
“I did.” Mo nodded. “I wished I had done it sooner, honestly. But I didn’t really know that was an option. Aspen helped a lot with that. Uh, the phone and stuff.”
“Aspen,” Opal said again, leaning even closer. “I see.”
“You see what?” Mo playfully complained, stopping herself from squirming under Opal’s stare.
“The light comes from the journey to Annie, but it also comes from Aspen.”
“Uh…”
“But there is disappointment too.” Opal leaned back, crossing her arms in confidence. “In you, I mean. When you got back. I doubt Annie would disappoint you, right?”
Anxiety welled up inside of Mo, so she took a long chug of her cider instead of answering right away. She weighed her options in her head, mulling over how to work this. Opal wasn’t wrong—all of those perceptions were there. As obnoxious and loud as a roadside billboard.
It was high time Mo leaned into them.
“Am I that easy to read?”
“Always.” Opal nodded, grinning nostalgically. “It was one of Annie’s favorite things about you, I’ll have you know.”
“I bet.” Mo smiled. “I kind of surface-level talked about it with Bud, but uh, yeah. Aspen and I were kind of a no-strings thing? Probably why I seem happy. It has been a while.”
“Explain.”
“I don’t know…it was just a fling? More than anything I think she helped me ground myself.
Find adventure in a pit of despair. Her ideas and backpacking knowledge helped me reconnect with Annie.
She gave me all the tools but none of the judgment.
It was nice to work through some of my grief, for sure.
” Mo was trying to explain, but her mind was all over the place.
“Aspen is a gorgeous person. Inside and out.”
“I believe Bud did mention the fling, though he referred to it as a one-night stand,” Opal replied, looking up toward her loft apartment with a roll of her eyes. “He tries.”
“He does,” Mo agreed, taking another long gulp of cider. “You two were too close to it. To her, I mean. I think I needed the space away from you both. From Palo Alto. I don’t think I was gonna find any answers here.”
“Right.” Opal’s face fell a tad as she began to absentmindedly trace one of the tattoos on her left wrist.
“I say all that to say thank you, Opal. Thank you for pushing, even if I was a pain in the ass about it. Which I’m sorry for, by the way.”
“No need to apologize. We were just as pushy,” Opal said. “But I want to talk about the Aspen part some more.”
“Oh no,” Mo joked. “My pretherapy therapy.”
“Mo,” Opal warned playfully before continuing, “While I am overjoyed you’re going to therapy again, the disappointment in your eyes comes back when you talk about the fling. So I don’t want you to skip over it. Why?”
“Well…” Mo weighed her options.