Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Jamie
Deep in thought about my life, I don’t see Kelsey sit down across from me until she clears her throat. Quickly, I force a smile and point at her scone.
“Heated with butter?”
She nods before taking a big bite. I watch her truly enjoy the very simple treat and wonder if I ever look that happy.
After washing down the scone with a few sips of her iced latte, she says, “It’s the little tricks in life that make it bearable, don’t you think?”
When I don’t respond, she adds, “You know, like the butter and heating up the scone to make it less dry.”
“Oh, yes. Definitely.”
Something about the way she said that thing about the life tricks made me think she meant something else. I don’t know what, though. Maybe if I knew her better I’d understand.
“Are you okay? You seem distracted today,” Kelsey says.
I know I shouldn’t say anything about what’s on my mind, but it’s not like she’s part of my social circle, so why not? It’s not like she’s one of those mothers I see all the time at practice. To them, I wouldn’t speak a single syllable about what may be wrong with my life.
This woman, on the other hand, gives me the impression she wouldn’t be judgmental like they would. I focus on her scars and think about how she’s likely been on the receiving end of countless looks of judgment because of them. That’s probably why she seems so understanding.
The problem is, though, I haven’t spoken the truth about my life or my marriage for so long that I’m not sure I know how to do it.
God forbid any of those mothers I see every day ever found out what Connor and I owe on that house or how little we actually speak to one another these days.
I know what they’d do. They’d put that expression each of them has perfected to show their superiority.
It’s a look of pity, and I’d rather die than see that when they think of me.
I’m not someone to be pitied. I have everything a woman could ever want. A husband who makes good money. A beautiful home that’s as lovely as any in our development. Two incredible daughters who excel at everything they try.
There’s no reason to pity me. Save that for people like Maris and that poor child of hers that is likely going to miss making the gymnastics team. They deserve pity, not me.
Kelsey reaches her hand across the table and gently touches my finger. “I know we don’t really know each other, but I’m told I’m a good listener. Feel free to take advantage of that. You look like you need to get something off your chest.”
As I look into her dark eyes and try not to stare at the scar on the left side of her face that appears very obvious today, I think she could be the only person I could unburden myself to around here.
Connor never wants to hear about any problems, and all those mothers who call themselves my friends would use what I say against me.
It would be nice to talk to someone about things.
With a smile, I let out a heavy sigh I’ve been keeping in for what seems like years. “I have so much, so complaining makes me feel like I’m not being grateful enough for all the good things there are in my life.”
Kelsey nods as I talk, and when I finish, she says, “I understand. I can tell you live with gratitude. You can tell people who are selfish a mile away, and I can promise you that’s not what I see in you, Jamie.”
Relief washes over me. I’d be mortified if I thought people viewed me as a selfish, ungrateful person.
“Thank you. I try. I know there are many people in the world who would give their left arm to have all I have. It feels silly even thinking of complaining.”
Again, she nods. “It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable telling me about what’s on your mind. We barely know each other.”
As if my brain has no way of controlling my mouth, I blurt out, “But that’s why I think I want to. I think someone who knows me would be biased. You wouldn’t be.”
She takes a bite of her scone and then a sip of her latte before she responds. “That’s true. That must be why therapists work. They don’t know their clients personally, but they want them to be happy.”
I smile at her comment. She’s right. That’s why telling her what’s on my mind might be helpful to me. I’ve never thought I had anything wrong that warranted a therapist, but what harm could it cause telling Kelsey what’s bothering me?
For a few moments, I try to decide how to explain what I’m dealing with, but every way I come up with sounds like whining. Finally, I say, “It’s just that I don’t want to come across as a woman who doesn’t see all she has.”
That gets me a big, warm smile that instantly makes me feel better. “You don’t have to worry about me thinking that about you. Trust me.”
A year ago I would’ve smiled and thanked her without going any further. Today, though, I need to talk to someone about my life right now.
I look around to see if anyone at the nearby tables may be able to hear me, but there’s no one close enough, thankfully. Lowering my voice, I decide to simply state what’s on my mind.
“It’s just that I didn’t imagine my life like it’s turned out.”
Kelsey likely believes I’m being intentionally cryptic. In truth, I’m unsure how to word the real issue I’m dealing with concerning every part of my life.
When she doesn’t say anything, I continue, silently praying to God I don’t sound like one of those bratty women who complain when they have it all. “It’s just that I…maybe I had an idea of what my life would be, and now I have to figure out how to handle the truth that it isn’t that at all.”
That doesn’t add anything to her understanding, so I’m happy when she doesn’t stare across the table at me and say, “Cut to the chase already!”
Two women walk into the café, and I hurriedly look over to see if I know them. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize I don’t. Hopefully, they won’t sit at any of the tables around us.
I take a deep breath and let it out through my nose in a rush. I want to talk about this. I just have to suck it up and say the words.
Leaning in toward Kelsey, I say in a voice barely above a whisper, “I feel like my entire life is a fraud.”
Her dark eyes fill with sympathy, and I can’t help but feel better. Even merely saying that single sentence makes me feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.
“Thank you for not thinking I’m a horrible person. Honestly, I think most people would believe I am because I have so much.”
She gives me a tiny smile and then asks, “Can I tell you a story?”
“Sure.”
Kelsey swallows hard and blows the air out of her mouth before she starts.
“I was a teenager when this happened. In hindsight, I guess I should have known better than to believe in my boyfriend, but that’s all water under the bridge.
I try to remember what we do as eighteen year old girls shouldn’t determine our entire lives. ”
Even more cryptic than what I said, her words intrigue me. I listen with rapt attention, wondering how this may relate to my problems.
“So, I was eighteen and had the world by the tail. I was a beautiful girl. You probably wouldn’t be able to tell that looking at me today, but I had high cheekbones and great skin.
I don’t think I ever even had more than a pimple or two all during my teenage years.
I had no problem attracting boys, and I enjoyed dating, never getting too involved so I was tied down. ”
When she stops, I smile and say, “Smart girl. Teenage girls too often let themselves get sucked into serious relationships before they’re ready to handle them.”
She holds her hand up and shakes her head. “Save the compliments for later. Trust me. I wasn’t smart enough.”
Now I’m intrigued. Without taking my eyes off her as she continues to speak, I lift the iced latte cup to my mouth and take a sip.
“So, it’s fall and my friend and I are hanging out downtown in the city we lived in.
Actually, it was closer to a small town, but to us, it was our stomping grounds.
We’re out on a Friday night just having a good time when these three boys approach us at a little store and ask if we want to have some fun.
They seemed nice, so we said yes. It all felt very normal since we routinely met new people and hung out with them every weekend. ”
I sense a sadness has crept into her words, but she continues to smile as she speaks. I’m curious to know if this story will tell me what happened to give her those terrible scars on her face, but I fear that will be a very dark story, and we likely haven’t spoken long enough for her to share that.
“We used to do the same thing where I lived,” I say. “It was what you did before the internet when you lived in a small town.”
Kelsey nods and then chuckles a little. “True. Life was very different back then. We didn’t have phones in our pockets all the time.
Meeting people in person was the way it was.
So my friend and I met these three guys, and before I say any more, please know that she and I talked about how safe it was for two girls and three guys to be hanging out in the woods together.
We weren’t stupid. I’d say we were just na?ve. ”
“Things were different back then. Trust me, I know. I wouldn’t be happy if my two girls went out with three boys, though. That probably sounds paranoid. Maybe it’s just different when you become a mother.”
“Hmm…maybe,” she says before continuing.
“So one of the boys was too drunk to even do much more than talk, so when the five of us met up in the woods near the store, it was basically even—two boys and two girls. My friend wasn’t worried, but I had been, so when I saw him fall over a log and his friends said he was just drunk, I felt better about everything. ”
She stops and then says, “I shouldn’t have.”
The way she says that is so serious that I feel a chill run down my spine. I’m completely focused on her now, so curious about what could have happened to her.