Chapter Four #2
“So what would you like to get off your chest?” asks Molly.
“Yeah,” he says, dragging the word out. “Why don’t you take the lead, June?”
“But she asked you,” I say.
“Ladies first.”
“What about the murky dark red? I wouldn’t want you to feel frustrated, stifled, or stressed about not being heard.”
Nash grins. “Oh no fear of that, my moon and stars.”
“Fine.” My spine is ramrod straight on the overstuffed white lounge.
“Whenever you’re ready,” says Molly, setting an alarm for the session on her phone. Forty-five minutes. Shit. There’s no way in hell we can sustain this ruse for so long. We are doomed.
Nash gives me an encouraging smile. My brain, however, is a vast empty space. Thinking in the morning with no caffeine is just a no. A whole big wide world of it.
“I think what June would like to say is that we kind of drifted apart,” he eventually says. And thank fuck for small mercies.
Grandma is leaning against the kitchen counter with her glass of juice in hand. “Should you really be mansplaining her thoughts and feelings?”
“It’s a valid concern,” says Molly. “But how about we let June and Nash steer the conversation for now?”
Grandma takes a sip of juice and says naught.
“There are traces of blue in your aura, June,” says Molly, in a calm and controlled voice. “It suggests you’re healing from giving too much of yourself. Do you think perhaps some of your relationships have been lacking in reciprocity?”
“I guess so. I mean, neither of us were really prioritizing being together.”
Molly nods encouragingly.
Nash waits for me to keep speaking. And he waits some more. Then he says, “I didn’t close the toilet lid.”
“How did that make you feel, June?” asks Molly.
“Just annoyed mostly.”
“What would be a suitable resolution for you?”
“Putting the lid down?”
Molly sits forward in her seat. “And would that make you feel like your emotions and needs were being considered?”
“Yes.”
Molly turns to the man beside me and asks, “What do you say, Nash?”
“I can definitely do that. I will put the lid down.”
“There we go,” says Molly, with no small amount of excitement. “Conflict resolution in action. You two are off to a great start!”
Grandma snorts.
“Was there something you wanted to add, Audrey?” asks Molly.
“No, no. They’re steering the conversation. Just pretend I’m not even here.”
“While these sort of everyday concerns are so important for us to address,” continues Molly, “why don’t we also take a look at the bigger issues? Say, for instance, what led to the relationship breaking down? What crisis occurred to bring you two to this particular point?”
Nash looks at me, and I look at him, and yeah. He shoves his hand through his thick hair in frustration. That would be the dark murky red in his aura.
The two problems here are a. he’s not my ex; and b. he wants to stay in town for a while. So calling him an uncaring asshole who dumped me out of nowhere will not work. Though throwing me out with nil notice is exactly what my ex did.
I may have experienced some recent revelations about said relationship. How shitty it generally was, and the way I don’t really miss it. But none of this excuses his callous behavior toward me. Therefore, I am all out of readymade backstory for us to use.
“I’m sensing a name starting with C,” says Molly, holding the quartz in her hands.
Grandma chuckles. “You don’t mean Lady Caroline, do you?”
Nash’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
“Who is she?” I ask curiously.
“Someone I haven’t seen in a long time.” He stretches out his arms along the back of the couch. “She has nothing to do with what’s happening now.”
I don’t know if I believe him. But it’s also none of my business. “Why don’t we move on?”
“Just take a moment here to breathe deeply and say I give myself grace.” Molly closes her eyelids and takes a deep breath to demonstrate. “How does that feel?”
Both of us nod and smile. But neither of us will be taking home an acting award.
“Interesting,” says Molly. “I keep seeing a long stretch of road when I look at you two.”
“We each drove here.” I shrug. “Could that be it?”
“It probably means we’re on a journey,” says Nash. “Like metaphorically and spiritually speaking.”
“Maybe.” Molly smiles encouragingly. “Nash, would you be willing to tell us now what you see as having caused this break between you?”
“June tells it better.”
“Not really,” I say.
“She’s just a really gifted orator. You should hear her.”
“Um.” It’s fast becoming my word of the day. Grandma stares blankly at me. There’s no help coming from her. And then Nash compounds the problem by prodding me gently with his elbow. Like I’m not already under enough pressure.
“Tell her, my joy.”
I could always have a sudden sham medical emergency. However, my imagination is no better at coming up with a suitable illness to feign than it is at inventing failed relationships and their reasons. So I simply blurt out, “He knows what he did.”
“I do?” asks Nash with surprise.
“Yes.”
He pauses. “Would you mind maybe just reminding me of some of the more pertinent details or…”
“No. You have to tell her. This is on you.”
Molly’s gaze jumps between us like it’s a tennis match. Her grip on the quartz is tight enough to crack the crystal.
Nash’s dark brows draw down, and he gives me a very long look. But there’s no point in silently imploring me to save him when I can’t even save myself.
“You’re right,” he finally says, with much misplaced confidence. “I know what I did. Only I am so full of shame and remorse that I can’t bring myself to talk about it.”
Molly gives him a sad smile. “There isn’t one of us who hasn’t been in this exact same situation, Nash.”
“Yeah.” He scratches the side of his muscular neck. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Each and every one of us has done something they regret,” says Molly. “There isn’t one person who hasn’t experienced a moment where they weren’t the best version of themselves. When they maybe felt like they let themselves and those around them down.”
“Wow,” says Nash. “That is exactly what’s going on here. You really hit the nail on the head.”
Molly nods serenely. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“So much.”
“Wounds like this need to be discussed and allowed to heal,” says Molly. “They can only start to mend when we bring them into the light of day. Nash, you need to trust June and me enough to share with us.”
He shakes his head.
“My spirit guide says you and June should hold hands. That a physical bridge between you two could be helpful.”
I hold out my hand and he takes it in a firm grip. His skin is warm and I don’t hate this.
“This is a safe space, Nash, remember?” asks Molly.
“It’s just that…I mean…June already knows, so I don’t feel like it’s something we really need to revisit.”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” says Grandma. “You two…”
Molly clicks her tongue. “Don’t forget your kindness, Audrey.”
“Yeah, Audrey,” drawls Nash, in his deep voice.
And we only have to speak absolute nonsense for another forty-something minutes.
This is a disaster. I don’t need to be a psychic to see that.
The things we said in the bar the other night are our best chance of survival.
“I didn’t like him calling me bro. And he never said bless you when I sneezed. ”
“I can see how that might be upsetting,” says Molly.
“The lack of punctuation in texts was also an issue,” says Nash. He obviously doesn’t have the list on him. “What else was there?”
“Saying knock knock instead of just actually knocking on the door. I mean, what’s with that?”
“That’s a new one,” he says.
“Is it?”
“Definitely haven’t heard that one before.”