26. What a time to be alive
Chapter 26
What a time to be alive
LETTIE
I f knowing Stella for nearly all my born days has taught me anything, it’s small packages can pack a big wallop.Today, this lesson has been proven once more.
I’ve been dismissed. Banished. Kicked to the curb.
By a tiny woman with a deceptively saccharine smile.
Except I’m not on the curb; I’m in a rather comfy waiting room with Sammy and Sawyer.
Perhaps being thrown out like waste isn’t the right metaphor since Jaynie politely asked me to wait here while Tomer has his first therapy session.
He’s on the other side of the door, talking to an old spitfire of a woman with wild hair and no less than six pencils sticking out of it. Initially, I was in with them, exactly as he asked of me. Holding his hand and standing by him as he took this huge step.
Well, the standing and stepping are metaphorical since we were seated. And if you were paying attention, you’d have figured that out by now.
Sorry for snarking. I’m a tad butthurt over being relegated to the lobby.
To be frank—whomever he is—I’m unsure how I got here.
Hold up. That sounds dumb as a doornail. I walked out on my own two legs. Duh . But I suspect she used the power of compulsion to get us to agree without resisting.
It might have been some type of Jedi mind trick. She has Yoda energy. Bet she’s doing the backwards sentence thing in there right now.
Trauma you have.
Discuss much we will.
Oh well. No sense bellyaching about not having a front row seat to his healing. After all, he’s entitled to all the privacy in the world to work out his issues, the same as I am. Yet he wanted me there.
Until he didn’t.Because of the Yoda therapist.
Now I’m sitting on a cozy couch beside Sammy and listening to her heavy breathing. I can’t wait until I’m at the I can’t breathe stage of pregnancy.Looks totally fun. Eye roll.
Sawyer’s seated on a chair across from us. He was sitting where I am until I got unceremoniously kicked to the curb. After jumping up to ensure all was well, he took a walk around the building to look for trouble and told me to keep his seat warm. When he returned, he insisted I stay put since the couch is comfier than the stiff-looking chair.
I suspect he’s buttering me up to make peace. He seems like a nice guy, probably undeserving of most of my attitude. I just can’t tolerate someone being mean to Tomer. Knowing it wasn’t malicious bullying, I’ll give him another chance. Especially since this couch is comfy as all get out.
Sammy props her feet up on his knees and says, “You look pissed. Got anger issues? Jaynie can help with those.”
“Who me?” I chuckle, shaking my head and pointing a finger at my chest. “Nah. My problem is I’m too nice.”
Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head knowingly at me. “ Sure, Jan .”
Sawyer pumps his fist and whispers, “Nice impression, princess.”
Grinning at them both, I cover my reddening cheeks with my palms. “Fair. I was a bit of a bitch earlier today. Busted. However, that was just a blip. I’m a lifetime people pleaser who was taught never to make a stink. And lately... well, you can imagine why that might have changed a bit for me.”
Sammy pats my knee twice, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “Welcome to the Look What You Made Me Do Club for Trauma Survivors . We grab life by the balls and know how to punch a throat without chipping our nails. Meetings are on the first of the month. You’ll be in charge of bringing cookies because I bet that’s something you’d like to do.”
Questions blast through my mind, giving my squirrel far too many ideas to process at once, but I’m stuck laughing at her sincere delivery.
“Not everyone goes full rage, princess.” Sawyer rubs her swollen ankles in soothing circles, drawing my attention there. “Lettie, if you join, order your T-shirt a size up. They tend to run small.”
Once the hilarity of the moment passes, I catch Sammy’s eyes and lower my volume. “Did you have um... trauma like mine?”
“Not exactly the same.” She nods solemnly. “Some glaring similarities, I’d imagine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell her honestly.
I hate the idea of another woman hurting like me. Unfortunately, it seems all too common.
“And I’m sorry for what you went through.” Her tone, normally sarcastic and playful, turns warm and motherly. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. Or if you want to let out some rage, I’m always game for a smash room.” She tips her head toward the door to the psychologist’s office. “Jaynie has great tactics you could try. Are you gonna see her too?”
I exhale with an animated flap of my lips. “Probably not. We’ll see. I quite like this woman named Simone I started seeing at the Langley women’s shelter.” My lips purse, and I glance at the ceiling. “Come to think of it. Simone is a waif of a woman too. Is it an unwritten law that therapists should be small? Maybe it’s so they’re less intimidating.”
Sammy’s head rears, and she scoffs. “Don’t let Jaynie’s size fool you. She’s tough as nails when she needs to be.”
“For now, I’ll let Tomer have her. I’m doing great with Simone.”
“As long as you’re getting help. That’s what matters.”
Sawyer chimes in. “Remember when it used to be taboo to talk about therapy? Glad those days are behind us. Drive-thru law firms, memes for every occasion, on-demand movie theater new releases at home, plus therapy for everyone. What a time to be alive.”
“ Yay progress .” I glance over my shoulder at the door, wondering if Tomer’s doing okay on the other side, then turn back to Sawyer. “Not saying you need it, but have you had therapy?”
“Everyone who served in the military should be in therapy. Especially if you were in the Rangers.” He shakes his head as if dispelling memories. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for a few months. Want to be the best daddy I can be for our little carpet crawlers.” He grins at Sammy’s tummy, reaching over to caress it. She laces their fingers together so they’re both cupping her belly.
Aww . Okay, Sawyer’s winning me over. I forgive him for being a dick to Tomer.
Partially.
I fling my thumb over my shoulder. “Do you see Jaynie too?”
He finishes off his coffee and pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “I did initially. But I switched after a few sessions.”
“Why?” I lean forward. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Sawyer beams at me, his brilliant white teeth shining. This man is high on life and happy as a pig in slop. “We laughed too much. Got along too well, if you can imagine that. It wasn’t effective for therapy, but I’d enjoy the hell out of a card game with her. I ended up doing impressions for forty-five minutes because she’s a great audience. I love making sweet old ladies laugh. So I started seeing a guy across town she recommended. He’s dealt with foster kids more anyhow.”
Oh . That explains a lot. Foster kids learn to become the funny ones to get attention.
Flashing my begging eyes at him, I say, “Perhaps you could mention to Tomer that you see a therapist? Like casually drop it into conversation. He might like knowing it’s something men can do without making them less manly.”
“Sure. But come on, therapy is plenty macho. Hell, Leo and Shep see Jaynie too.”
If shock were a drop of liquor, I’d die of alcohol poisoning. “Really?”
“Yep. Jaynie’s like the unofficial Redleg shrink.”
Sammy flaps her hand in his direction, pantomiming smacking him. “Don’t say shrink . How can you be pro-therapy and call it head shrinking at the same time? You’re an oxymoron, minus the oxy.”
He winks at her. “Sorry, princess. Jaynie’s the unofficial Redleg head fixer-upper. Is that better?”
“Bleh,” Sammy bemoans comically, adding the fickle middle finger of fate to better sell her disdain.
I really like these two. The more I get to know them, the more my spirits perk up.
“Thanks for mentioning therapy to Tomer.” I lower my forehead at Sawyer in a show of appreciation. “His dad was messed up and said some shit to him that gave him a warped view of what it means to be a man.” My teeth clench involuntarily. “I wish his dad were still alive so I could give him a throat punch. I’m sure Sammy could show me how to do it without chipping my nails.”
She holds her hand out for a fist bump. “Bet your ass I could.”
Sawyer whistles through perfectly rounded lips. “Yeah. That dude was a fucking piece of work.”
Curiosity trundles through my chest. “You knew him?”
“Only through stories. When we were in the service, there was a lot of downtime where we bitched and moaned about our childhoods. Tomer wasn’t as verbose as the rest of us, but he said some shit that had our brows raised to the sky.”
His face falls, a heartbreaking air of sadness settling over him.
My sweet Tomer . He doesn’t deserve whatever that monster did to him.
Disgust and revulsion battle it out behind Sawyer’s eyes. “He told you about his dog, right?”
My throat clogs and tightens like an icy hand has gripped it, making it physically impossible to speak. All I can do is shake my head and beg him with my eyes for an explanation.
The last time I brought up this topic with Tomer, he clammed up. In fact, that was the night he asked me to make this therapy appointment for him.
Sawyer’s lips flatten. “It’s not a pretty story. I mean, it’s not graphic or anything. But the fucker killed Tomer’s dog when he was a little boy to teach him some lesson or as a punishment. Can you imagine?”
Sammy cups her mouth as she sucks in a huge swell of air.
That’s why Tomer wants a dog.
I sputter the only words I can force out through this frozen block of sadness in my throat. “Was it a black dog?”
Sawyer’s face screws up comically. “Super random question.” He grows serious again, his eyes losing focus while he searches for an answer. “It was a long time ago. I can’t recall if he mentioned the color of the dog.”
“Why?” Sammy asks me, all traces of her sarcasm a distant memory.
I wave my fingers in front of my face, drying my tears before they screw up my mascara. “He said...” My chin wobbles. “He wants us to get a black dog when we get a new house.”
Almost instantly, tears well up in Sammy’s eyes. “Oh my fucking hell.” She does the same finger fanning the eyes thing I did a moment earlier. “Shit, shit . I don’t want to cry before therapy. But oh fuck . Poor Tomer.”
Eyes bulging, she digs her fingertips into her chest over her heart. “What is this pain? Argh . I feel like the Grinch. My heart. I didn’t even have a heart a year ago, and now it’s breaking for Tomer.”
It’s a bit odd how she’s being overdramatic and sarcastic but also genuinely overcome with grief for Tomer. I’ll dissect how she pulls both off so effortlessly later.
For now, I need to find a tissue because I’m officially blubbering like a baby.
Sawyer kneels in front of his fiancée, offering her a hug, which she eagerly accepts. “Princess, don’t cry. Tomer’s fine. He’s in love and about to become a daddy. Plus, he’s got his Redleg family.” He pats her back, stroking it soothingly. “Everything is okay now.”
Through a sniffle, Sammy whines, “And we’ll get him a dog?”
“We can get him a dog, princess. Do you want a dog too? I can get you one as well. Any kind you want.”
He’s fathering his wife right now, comforting her while her pregnancy emotions run wild. It’s kind of adorable, helping take the focus off my own sadness. Nonetheless, my tears keep flowing like they’re trying to fill a river.
Sammy must realize I’m crying by my lonesome because she pops her head off Sawyer’s shoulder and flings her arm toward me. “Bring it in, Lettie. Hug this one out.”
With happiness sprouting in my soul, I enter the awkwardly positioned, three-person embrace.
When we return to our own personal space bubbles, Sawyer grabs some tissues off the coffee table and passes them around.
After a half dozen sniffles, some of my twang sneaks out. “If ya’d let me handle the dog situation, I’d be much obliged.”
They nod in silent agreement.
“Thank you,” I mutter, my tears finally slowing.
Suddenly, Sammy bounces like she was zapped with a jolt of electricity. “Oh! Sue has a dog.”
Has this woman gone mad? Is pregnancy hysteria still a thing like it was in the olden golden days?
“I ain’t gonna take Sue’s dog,” I tell her.
She snorts, her features gradually returning to their typical vibrancy. “No. I mean she’s training a dog. And it’s black.”
“Oh yeah. She’s a dog trainer like her brother.”
Last week, Sue and I were chatting in the break room about this. She and her brother Nick partner with local kill shelters. They find sweet and loving dogs in desperate need of training. Once they’re taught basic obedience commands, it’s easier for them to be adopted.
The three of us remain thoughtful and silent for a while. The noise from the nearby road provides a soundtrack for my wandering thoughts.
Eventually, Sammy says, “So fucking glad Tomer’s dad is dead.”
Sawyer and I both nod in agreement.
“Good riddance,” she grumbles under her breath.
“Do you know when he died?” I ask Sawyer.
Tilting his chin upward, he flitters his gaze around the ceiling. “Um. Let’s see. We were newly in the Rangers when it happened. Had to be about fifteen years ago.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I harrumph. “I hope it was a painful death and his coffin had holes in it so the worms didn’t have to work too hard to feast on his corpse. The vile sumbitch.”
“Boss said his death was fitting of the life he lived.” He narrows his eyes. “Correction. Your father said that.”
Inching to the edge of my seat, I ask, “Big Al knew him?”
Sawyer lowers his head in a single nod. “He met him around the time he died. From what I heard, it didn’t go well.”
I scoot farther to the edge of the sofa cushion, leaning closer. “What happened?”
His face crinkles. “Not sure it’s my place to tell you.”
“Oh, now you get a case of lockjaw?” I roll my eyes. “Ironic, considering you could talk the horns off a billy goat.” I make a pish sound. “I’ll ask Tomer or Boss Dad myself.”
“I like her so damn much.” Grinning like the devil, Sammy tosses her head back. “Seriously, I adore your spunk. It’s been so hard for me to have all the attitude in the family. We needed you. Bless her heart, Sue won’t ever be able to keep up with my sarcasm.”
My cheeks warm at the idea of having a whole ass family down here. “The family, huh? That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“Well, yeah.” Sammy shrugs. “My mother is with Big Al, who is your father. So that basically makes us sisters.”
Sawyer slants his head toward the therapist’s office. “You’re also Redleg family. Plus, Tomer might as well be Boss’s son. And you’re with him, so yeah. Triple the family ties.”
“What is this? Flowers in the Attic ?” Sammy mutters quietly, feigning a shudder.
“They aren’t blood siblings, princess,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes and laughing.
Rather than admit her joke went over my head, I’ll Google it later. From the context, it sounds like a movie or something about siblings banging. Leave it to Sammy to make it inappropriate. Just another reason I’m growing to genuinely like her.
Sawyer stops rubbing her feet, then curls up his fingers toward the sky and holds my stare. “Face it, dame. You’re one of us now.” He sounds like an old-timey mob boss from those old movies Papa used to watch. “And no one ever leaves the family. Ever. Period. Capiche ?”
Sammy and I cackle at his impression. He eats up the praise eagerly, much like I’ll devour anything Sammy’s mother cooks.
“Speaking of family,” Sammy starts, her lashes fluttering at me. “From the rumors I’ve heard—and pardon us for talking about you behind your back—you didn’t even know your parents weren’t your birth parents until recently. Is that true? Because fuck. I’d need an entire watermelon farm and an industrial-strength sledgehammer to work through that much rage.”
Over the next several minutes, I tell my sordid tale of being lied to by my grandparents, my mother dying after childbirth, and Papa’s deathbed confession. They both listen with fascination. I detect no judgment or pity. Just genuine compassion.
After a while, my story dries up, and their rapid-fire questions slow until only one remains.
Sammy nibbles at her lip and eyes me carefully. “Are you gonna ask your mom why they said Big Al was dead? Or ask your grandma, I mean? Do you think she intentionally kept him out of your life?”
Ain’t that the question.
Instead of rushing out an answer, as I’m known to do, I give it some thought.
A confession eventually passes my grinning lips. “Truth be told, I have this little thing I tend to do about worrisome shit like this.”
Sammy’s exhale hitches a ride on a humorous sigh as if she knows I’m about to make a joke. “What’s the thing?”
“Nothing like this bothers me when I’m in denial, so that’s where I hang out. I also have an inner delulu who encourages me to believe the opposite of what I know to be true. So me, my ADHD squirrel, and good ol’ Delulu Bell make a habit of hanging out in denial, which is our favorite vacation destination. That’s how I keep things peachy keen for sweet little Lettie Bear.”
She stifles a chortle, and the action makes her stomach bounce.
After a laugh of my own, I wrap up my explanation. “And your question, in particular, is one I’ve avoided thinking much about. Thus, I have no idea what I’ll do about my grandmother.”
“I love denial. It’s the freaking best, isn’t it?”
Sammy pats her belly three times, then rubs a big circle around it. Instinctively, my hand cradles mine.
She continues. “I keep pretending the birth of our twins is gonna be a breeze. No pain at all. My body will instantly snap back to prepregnancy weight after delivery. My boobs will still be perky. These stretch marks will disappear. And I’ll sleep through the night. Ah . My little monsters and I love denial.”
“Say what now? Little monsters?” Is she calling her twins that?
“In here.” She clicks her tongue, pointing at her forehead. “You have a squirrel and a delulu, and I have my monsters.”
A grin eats up my face. “I see.”
Sawyer gets up, stretching over his head and lengthening his already long frame. “Time for a perimeter walk. Stay in here. I’ll lock the outer office door like last time. Listen for my knock.”
She puckers her lips, enticing him to give her a kiss.
I look away to give them a bit of privacy.
Once he’s gone, she hits me with a severe glare. “Seriously, you’re gonna ask your grandma, right? If not, give me her number.”
“Well, Tomer said he wants to meet her when this Lenkov mess is over. I can’t hide the pregnancy from her forever. And although we don’t have a great relationship, I’d still like her to attend our wedding.”
Her face brightens, and her eyes dance. “Wedding?”
“Well, yeah.” Warmth travels up my neck, lapping at my cheeks. “He hasn’t officially asked yet. But he gave me this collar, which is basically the same thing.” I snicker behind my cupped hand. “I’ve been teasing him that it’s a not-a-proposal-but-definitely-a-proposal collar. When he asked me to wear it, his speech was as much of a proposal as anything I’ve seen in movies. He’s honestly so freaking swoony.”
Sammy’s eyes bulge. “Tomer is swoony?”
I feign being cross with her. “Hey now,” I warn.
“No, it’s just that he’s so quiet. Was it like... a long profession of love? I can’t imagine it for the life of me.”
Through giggles and love-struck sighs, I tell her about the collar ceremony thing.
My story is cut short when she jerks suddenly. “Son of a bitch.” Her hand goes to her stomach, and her face crimps in pain.
“Oh no! Are you in labor? What do we do?”
Of course this would happen the moment Sawyer leaves us alone. That’s par for the Lettie course.
What do I do? Drunk llamas can’t help with this. I don’t know how to deliver a baby. Hell’s bells , I only learned how babies are made a few years ago.
Her laughter sails through the air, melodic and bright. Likely, she can see my panic. Never been one to dilute my overreactions.
“It’s just a kick. Right in the ribs. She’s gonna be an MMA fighter. And she fights dirty.”
My midsection aches in solidarity. “Been there with the bruised ribs. Negative infinity stars.”
She hits me with a pout, but it quickly morphs into a gasp when she takes another kick to the ribs.
Mouth splaying wide in a beaming grin, she reaches for me. Slowly, she brings our hands to her belly. “Feel this.”
I don’t speak. Barely breathe. Too afraid to ruin the moment.Feeling the babies kicking has me simply awestruck.
A roll under her firm belly makes our joined hands bob and rock like they had too much of Miss Paula’s moonshine.
“Butter my biscuits. Slap me silly. And snap my garters.”
They’re moving under her shirt like a damn horror movie. But not a scary one. Like a happy horror movie.
Perhaps the babies aren’t kicking but doing synchronized swimming. There’s two of them, after all.
I can’t wait to feel my own baby one day.
All too soon, my euphoria bubble bursts.
Like the joy of the moment was sucked out with a vacuum, Tomer comes flying out of the office with a deadly serious look on his face. “Where’s Sawyer? We need to move. Now.”