Chapter 12
Twelve
Taylor
We’re in the car on the way home, and the air is icy.
Shocking considering that it’s a balmy fall afternoon.
We haven’t hit the dreaded winter weather that we usually get around the end of October and early November.
Brynn is illuminated by headlights, driving through the city, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.
Usually her fingers would be in sync with the beat of whatever song is playing on the radio.
But the radio isn’t playing tonight, which adds to the iciness of the car.
Her face is set in a straight line, but at least she doesn’t look like she’s losing her mind, like Eloise was earlier tonight. I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown in the bathroom until Winnie came in. I have to talk to Winnie, because when on earth did they become friends?
Have I been shitty to Eloise since she arrived? Yeah. I don’t have a better excuse other than what I’ve already told her, and there’s no use rehashing the same argument over and over.
And she’s also mentioned it several times now that she isn’t the reason my life has gone to shit, and I guess she’s right. Do I hate that? Yeah, of course I do. I like having someone as a scapegoat.
I guess I should be using Frank as the scapegoat, but that seems too convenient, and I really, really don’t want to think about his smug face.
“Are you seeing the therapist?” Brynn asks, startling me out of my thoughts.
I scrunch my nose up at the question. “Yeah, of course.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Oh, you know, she’s good.” I don’t fucking know. “Having a great off-season, ready for us to win the Walter.”
She hums as we drive for a bit longer. Only a few more minutes. Ugh, traffic. “What homework is she giving you to work through everything?”
“Deep breathing, talking, more therapy. You know, the usual.” Her eyebrow raises. I can see it in the mirror. She must be onto me. I’m so shit at lying.
“And have you been?”
“Do you think I would lie to you?” I ask. Yes.
She looks at me for a moment, her dark brown eyes boring holes into my soul, before returning her gaze to the road. “And how is Eloise?”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “She’s good. You saw her tonight.”
“I watched her run to the bathroom looking like she was going to lose her mind tonight.”
I shrug. “That’s just Eloise.”
She grunts, turning into the parking lot under her building. We don’t get out though and instead sit in the car for a moment longer. I think we’re running out of oxygen with the way she’s looking at the wall of the parking space.
“You know you shouldn’t be lying to me, right?”
I nod. “Why would you assume I am?”
“Because the therapist doesn’t just recommend deep breathing and talking. There’s intentional practice you have to do in order to acknowledge and work through your shit.” She turns to me, and my gut drops.
“Well, you know I’m so new at it.”
“And you haven’t gone once.”
I bite my tongue. There’s no reason to keep lying. “When did you work it out?”
“I had an inkling for a while; the bullshit with Eloise is just the icing on the cake at this point, Tay.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair, and I have to stop myself from watching the way her biceps flex.
“But Eloise and I—”
“You have to get your shit together. I can’t go up to bat for you without you putting in some effort.” Her eyes narrow, and the brown is slowly growing darker, like a pool I’ll never get up from. “If you don’t change something soon, then management is going to be looking at other options.”
My blood runs cold. “So, because I’m not okay, they’re going to trade me?”
“Not yet, but maybe.” She bites her lip.
The pause is impregnable. My heart thuds.
“You and Eloise are going to be a great line, a wicked line. Winnie’s ready for you two, but if you make anything about this more difficult than it has to be, or you decide to jeopardize the relationship with Eloise, then you won't be with us for much longer, and that’s your support system gone. ”
My blood is both hot and ice in my veins, my cheeks are on fire. The idea of losing Brynn, Winnie, even Rory when she hangs out with us, makes my stomach drop.
“So, I—”
“You get with the program. Take care of yourself. You have the resources, and you’re lucky that you’re in a position to do this.” She places a hand on my leg, burning me. “I want you here with us so we can win the Walter.”
I have to swallow the bile rising in my throat. She pats my leg before getting out of the car, and I’m stuck here.
“You also have to be friends with Eloise; there’s no way this works unless you’re at least friendly with her.” I try to keep my scowl under wraps as she closes the car door and walks away.
I sit for a few more moments before opening my phone. The email is still sitting in my drafts, making me uncomfortable with the blinking. It’s like the email is judging me for waiting.
I could have sworn that I was doing okay. I’ve processed things, I’m sure of it.
But I guess maybe not. Not if I’m struggling with talking to someone who is going to help me.
Someone who actively wants to see me do better.
Not just for the good of the team but for me as well. Tears sting my eyes, and furiously, I blink them away. The email blinks back at me from my screen.
The phrasing makes me nauseous.
I think I need help.
Do I actually? Yes, I do. I’m not totally fine.
I sign the email and send it, not wanting to look it in the eye.
The response is faster than I expected.
There’s a blue link that makes my stomach drop. She wants to meet now? What if I had plans? What if I—? No, she knows my schedule; she’s the team’s therapist. Of course, she knows what’s going on and what I’ve gone through professionally.
I take a deep breath, letting it rattle through my teeth as I click the link.
No going back.
She blinks onto my screen with a brilliant smile. I feel blinded as I get settled into the car seat. I may be here for a while. “Taylor, I’m happy to see you,” she says warmly.
Of course she’s warm. She’d be a shitty therapist if she were cold.
“You are?”
She nods. “Of course, I’ve been meaning to check in with you with all the changes around the rink. There’s been a lot that’s happened since June.”
I nod, a little dumbstruck.
“Is there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about?”
“That’s it?” I ask, and she nods, eyes wide and crinkled in the corners. She’s got a few grey hairs that thread through her hair, framing her face. “I tell you what I want to talk about?”
“Well, I’m not a mind reader,” she teases gently. “But it’s a conversation. We talk and figure out tools that you can use when you’re going through life.”
My heart thuds. I’m sure she can see the way I’m processing every thought, the way the gears are turning in my head. “So I can talk about anything?”
“Whatever you want.”
“So if I wanted to talk about how I’m dealing with a new teammate...”
“It stays within the confines of our sessions. No one else knows about it.”
“So, losing Rosie,” I let it hang. I don’t know how to continue.
“Have you spoken to her since she moved?” I shake my head. “Do you want to start there?”
“I guess.”
She waits for a moment, waiting presumably for me to make the first move, which is awkward, and I hate it.
“It’s been almost a month, and she hasn’t spoken to me at all, which sucks, because I thought we were really close.
” It spills out of me fast. Like a dam that’s opened, and I can’t shut it.
“I could have sworn we were best friends, but now I don’t think so, and Eloise is here, and I hate working with her because she’s so competent, and I just want Rosie back. ”
“Do you hate working with Eloise because you have to learn a new way of communication?” she asks, and I bite my lip. “Or is there something else?”
“I just hate her. She comes in, and she’s so comfortable, and she’s made friends,” I snap. “I’m angry that the team can get over losing Rosie and accept Eloise when she’s been a thorn in our side for the last few seasons.”
“So, you find it frustrating that the team has accepted Eloise? Did they not do that for you?”
I wince. “They did. It took longer, I think.”
Her soft smile feels grating. “Are you looking at it through a positive lens or a negative lens?”
I bite my lip. “Maybe negative?”
“It was a new change for you,” she says, “Change is very hard.”
The words echo in my mind. “You’re not the first person who has told me this.”
She huffs a small laugh. “That person was wise to remind you, even if it is difficult to hear.” I purse my lips in frustration. “But let’s look back at Eloise. I know that you two have some history both during college and professionally. Have you ever tried to talk with her outside of work?”
Embarrassment floods through me. “No.”
She hums, “Would that be something you’re interested in doing?”
I bite back the immediate no. “I have to get to know her to be successful in my position.”
“It may seem like a chore, but do you have something that you can do together?”
“We’re hiking the Grouse Grind with Brynn this week.”
“Excellent! What a fantastic way to bond,” Marguerite says.
“Over something traumatic?” I mutter to her delight. She snorts, something unbecoming but delightfully human.
At least I don’t have to worry that she’s a robot. “Well, they do say misery loves company, and if Brynn is there, then she can facilitate conversations and break the awkwardness up.”
“I’m not awkward around her.” The look she gives me flattens me. “I’m not!”
“Taylor, I know we haven’t spoken much, but I know for a fact that you’re awkward around her and you’re lying to me.”
My stomach sours. She’s right, and I hate it. “Fine. How did you…?”
“I’ve watched a few practices,” she raises an eyebrow, “I like to make sure that everyone is gelling well. It’s good for the team, and I like to see how everyone is working in case there’s an issue that crops up later on.”
My face drops. “So you noticed an issue?”
“I was expecting this call.” I cross my arms, not wanting to share how right she is. It’s rude that she is right. “Why does Eloise make you awkward?”
“Why does anyone make me awkward?” I ask, maybe a bit too quickly. “There’s just something about her?”
“She replaced Rosie.”
“There’s definitely that,” I mutter.
“So, you resent Rosie for not reaching out and you resent Eloise for being here. I think I’m going to end our meeting soon, but before I do, is there anyone else that’s currently weighing on you?”
“My ex-fiancé,” I mutter. She furrows her brow, not able to hear me, and I feel a little more comfortable. “No… No one. Hey, would you look at the time? You said you had to go? Well, bye Marguerite!” I shout, frantically tapping away at the end call button on my phone.
The silence in the car is oppressive for a moment.
I can’t tell if this is going to help or hinder, but I guess it won’t hurt in the meantime.