Chapter Six
Six
A week passed.
I’d been haunted by the phone call and received another message from Catena.
Aurora,
I’m worried about you. I’m sorry for the call with my mother and all we learned about your mom. I cannot believe I will never meet her or your dad. I cannot believe they kept this secret from all of us. I spoke with my grandparents and the rest of my family, and we all beg you to come to Sicily. You are welcome here, and we must right all of these wrongs. Please come visit us, cugina. I want to hug you and show you beautiful Sciacca and Lucca. You can stay as long or as short as you’d like—there’s a place for you here. Please, think about it.
Love,
Catena
Of course, I couldn’t abandon everything here to travel to Sicily. I didn’t know any of them, even if they were related to me. And my own grandparents had refused to accept my dad, so why would they suddenly accept me? The questions tore me apart until I felt like I was going out of my mind.
All the momentum I’d achieved disappeared. I met with two new clients, and even I knew the consults were terrible. Who’d want to sign with a life coach whose voice sounded dead when reading motivational passages from her unfinished book?
By the time my podcast premiere arrived, I was a bunch of raw nerves. I tried hard to get myself together, using clothes as my armor—hello, Gucci business suit—and makeup to hide my puffy red eyes. I looked in the mirror and saw a woman dressed for success, but once again, there seemed to be no soul in her dark eyes. I pasted on a big smile and hoped it could make a difference. How many times had I told a client if you put a smile on your face, you trick your body into believing you are happy?
Now I knew I was full of crap.
Marley was a lovely guest. She exuded a calm, thoughtful energy as I interviewed her, and though she was becoming a big name in the entertainment industry, she didn’t seem to be obsessed with her fame. I peppered her with questions about balancing the outside world’s needs with our inner ones, and her ambitious shooting schedule while raising a family.
It was all going so well. I’d managed to seem enthusiastic and focused. I needed to prove to my sponsors they’d been right in trusting my podcast to bring in big numbers, especially after losing a bunch after my little breakdown. This kickoff episode was key to proving my worth. I caught a thumbs-up from Eliza and knew we were in the homestretch.
I leaned forward as if desperate to hear Marley’s secrets. “I’m sure our viewers would love to learn what you always return to when things are falling apart. When you haven’t slept all night and the dog runs away, and the children are screaming, and you’re running late for the studio—what do you focus on? What are your techniques to keep pushing forward?”
She gave a low laugh and crossed her legs. The tasteful black skirt and matching jacket showed a woman of classic restraint, but the poppy red blouse underneath hinted at so much more. “I’m human like everyone else, and some days are just disastrous. My main goal to salvage the chaos is not to allow myself to be cruel or berate.”
“You try not to take your mood out on others?”
“No, I don’t take it out on myself,” she clarified. “I believe in positive self-talk and kindness. If I call myself fat, or stupid, or lazy, all of that negative energy circles into the universe and comes back like a boomerang.”
I nodded, loving her answer. “I agree. I like to ask myself if I’d say the same things to a friend. If the answer is a strong no, I realize I’ve fallen into the harmful pattern.”
“Exactly. And when you feel like you still can’t pull yourself out of the mental ditch, concentrate on one element that makes all the difference. It’s been my saving grace and brings an inner power that turns me into my own superhero.”
“Oh, who wouldn’t want to be their very own Wonder Woman? Tell us.”
Her face lit up and I was struck by the warmth in her voice and the way her gaze glittered with positivity. “My family. They are my true north. My parents, my husband, and my children. The days may be filled with things out of our control, but the people who love us are the foundation for everything.”
I watched the woman across from me utter those words with complete confidence. Like she was bestowing a secret on the universe, and we should be grateful. And suddenly, a biting, awful resentment overtook me.
It hadn’t happened to Marley yet. She hadn’t dealt with the bitter loss of having someone she loved ripped away without explanation or preparation. Of facing secrets from the people closest to her and having to deal with the fallout. It was so easy to sprinkle out advice when she’d never been tested. She truly believed what she said, forgetting all the lost souls in the world who’d suffered personal losses and had no family to lean on.
My mind furiously begged me to back up. The rational part of my brain explained that I wanted to lash out because I was still in pain, and this poor woman didn’t deserve my wrath.
But my damaged heart connected with the dark side and let it rip.
“How convenient.” The words dropped like stone between us.
She blinked. Tilted her head. “Excuse me?”
I pressed my lips in a tight line. “I said it seems very convenient to use your family as a motivator. May I ask if you’ve ever lost anyone close to you?”
She hesitated, looking around as if waiting for a cue card. A tentative smile curved her lips. “Well, no. I’ve been very lucky. But I think I know what you’re trying to say, Aurora. Many people don’t have spouses or children, or even their parents. But family doesn’t have to be blood. It can be the people we love and cherish and who we choose. Nothing else matters. Don’t you agree?”
Oh, she seemed smug. I was smug once. I didn’t think tragedy could sneak in and steal all the things I cherished, leaving me with nothing. Leaving me alone.
“No, I don’t agree,” I said calmly. “I think many of our viewers aren’t all that lucky. Some of them deal with loneliness and grief. Some of them have experienced incredible loss and don’t know how to get up in the morning, and they don’t have anyone to help them. What would you say to those people, Marley?”
Eliza made a frantic cutting motion.
I ignored her.
Marley wasn’t giving up easily. “I think you’re talking about mental health. Depression is a serious illness and different from what I was referencing. If you’re having trouble getting out of bed or can’t complete simple activities, it’s time to see a therapist.”
“Of course.” Eliza gave me the signal to announce the help line and I smoothly transitioned. “I’d like to tell our viewers we just flashed a phone number at the bottom of the screen for the national help hotline. Please contact them if you want to talk to someone or were triggered by this conversation.”
“Mental health is the number one priority,” Marley said a bit loudly, like she was making her point.
I began to back off. I’d already screwed up and I desperately needed to save the end of this podcast. “Yes, it is.”
“And if you’re struggling out there, go find a family member or friend to hug. Sometimes, we just need a reminder we are loved. No one is truly alone.”
I jerked back like I’d been slapped. The image of my empty apartment flashed in my mind. Of my father being pulled out of the crumpled car without my being able to say goodbye. Of Jason leaving me in my weak state because it was for my own good. Of standing next to my mother’s grave in the shattering silence, making me question what I’d been working so hard toward.
My breath felt strangled in my lungs, and a surge of emotion shot through my legs, wriggled in my stomach, climbed up my vertebrae, and sank deep into my chest. A terrible pressure forced the heavy wave to rise in my throat. I fought madly for control, but I was helpless underneath the vicious onslaught.
The tears gripped me, slowly at first, then pushing sobs out in great gulps.
Marley gasped, obviously horrified at such a dramatic display of emotion, and quickly came over to hug me.
I jerked back, not wanting anyone to touch me, and crashed out of my chair.
Then fell on my ass.
The camera whirred on, casting the entire incident live to our viewers.
Finally, everything went black.
—
The next day, I went to see Jason.
He’d heard about the debacle and texted me to check how I was doing. I took it as a sign that maybe he was regretting his decision to walk away in my time of need, so I asked if I could come over.
I walked into his place, taking in the familiar scatter of training equipment, inspirational art, and life-size image of da Vinci’s human body sketch hung on the far wall. I’d thought it was strange at first but got used to it. Jason always told me he wanted to be reminded of the human body at all times, because he’d dedicated his life to healing in a different way than a doctor does.
The furniture was leather and cold to the touch. The kitchen was small but well equipped to create any shake or recipe he desired. Decorated in stark black and white, it was an austere home that was male-centric, but I’d always managed to make a place for myself. I’d bought him a cheery yellow blanket, luxury hotel feather pillows, and a red ceramic bowl to put his fruit in. We’d been moving slowly and carefully toward getting into each other’s private space but assumed our goal of living together would eventually occur.
As we hugged and I caught the faint scent of musk and sweat, I wanted to stay longer in his arms. I craved a bit of softness with him, but Jason rarely encouraged too much vulnerability. He was a good lover, but public affection wasn’t his thing, and I’d gotten used to it. I’d assumed we were growing toward sharing some deeper emotions, but even now, he quickly pulled away to walk into the kitchen and grabbed a can of my favorite lemon Spindrift. I tried to fight the disappointment at the short embrace.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
My heart eased a bit. Maybe this break had been good for us. Missing each other was a sign of a healthy relationship. “I missed you, too.”
“You look so thin.” A tiny frown creased his brow. “But, babe, I can tell you’re not doing your weights—there’s no muscle definition. You don’t want to ruin such great weight loss by not toning.”
I tried not to feel insulted at the comment. Jason said he’d loved my body when we first began dating, but then praised each pound I shed, which was a complete contradiction. I shook off the prickle of alarm because there were more important things I needed from him now. “Jason, some major things have been happening and I really need to talk.”
“Of course. Come sit.”
We settled close on the sofa and I told him everything. The words spilled out in a convoluted rush, but he didn’t interrupt. His blue eyes widened with shock and he took my hand, squeezing in comfort, nodding as he listened. When I was done, relief softened my shoulders. I hadn’t even seen my therapist yet—canceling my appointment had caused me to miss two weeks now—so Jason was the first one to know about my sudden new family. I really needed his perspective—I’d always trusted his opinion.
Jason rubbed his head in obvious disbelief. “I can’t believe it. Your mom never gave you a clue you have all these relatives? Why would she lie about this? It makes no sense.”
“I know. I keep trying to figure out why. They said she ran away and they banned her, but I feel like I’m missing so much more.”
His fingers interlaced with mine and I savored the support. “There must be a bigger story, but I’m not sure how you can forgive her. She literally abandoned her entire family in Sicily without a word.”
The wound from the news throbbed at his words. I shifted with discomfort, not liking his bashing my mother, even though I was enraged with her. Still, he was right. “I guess so. I feel like I’m in a nightmare and I can’t wake up. I spent my life wishing for more family, but I didn’t expect this. They want me to come to Sicily.”
“What? That makes no sense. They don’t even know you.”
I ignored my sudden flare of annoyance. “Yes, but they knew my mother. I’m part of the family and they want to meet me.”
“If there’s any truth to the story, your mom ran away because they wouldn’t accept your dad. I’m sure you don’t want to be trapped over there with a bunch of people who cut them both off and didn’t want to even know you. Talk about awkward.”
I pulled my hand away to take a sip of my drink. Somehow, he wasn’t making me feel better about anything. “They seemed shocked at her death. Maybe they regret their actions and want to meet me.”
He looked doubtful but patted my leg. “I’m sure they understood when you declined. Aurora, I’m sorry you’re going through all this. Watching the podcast was…painful.”
I swallowed back humiliation. Why had I hoped for him to understand? It was like the more I craved connection and understanding, the more I felt isolated. “Yeah, I kind of lost it. Hearing Marley talk about leaning on family triggered me.”
“It was just her opinion,” he said carefully. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it to come out the way you took it.”
“I know.” My heart ached to try to explain in a way he’d relate to. “Losing my mom changed me, Jason. I’m struggling with this constant fear and loneliness I’ve never experienced before. Like I was plucked from this safe place and put into a wild forest, and now I have to survive on my own.”
He nodded, regarding me thoughtfully. I felt like a bug under a microscope rather than a woman he claimed to love. “You didn’t have this problem after your dad, though, right?”
I swallowed. “No. But the things I did before aren’t working now.”
“Did you go to a therapist?”
“Yes. She’s good, but after the first session, I felt so much better that I pushed out my second appointment. Then this podcast happened and I’m back where I started.” Despair swirled inside me. “I lost one of my big sponsors, Jason. They said they wanted to wait until the new season stabilized before they invest. My next guest delayed the taping because watching me with Marley probably scared the crap out of him and he’s thinking I’ll freak out on air. I feel like everything is closing in around me, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, baby, come here.” He gave me a warm hug and I sighed with relief. “You already know what you need to do.”
I held on tight, not caring if I seemed needy. “I do?”
Too soon, he pulled back, studying my face intently. “Yes. You need to accept responsibility and do the hard stuff, even if you don’t want to. You can do hard things, Aurora.”
Coldness seeped into my bones. I shifted away from him. “Glennon Doyle said that in her book Untamed .”
He ignored me and kept talking. “No one can pull you out of this mess but yourself. I think that podcast was you hitting rock bottom. Tomorrow, you should call up your sponsors and tell them you’re going to use your breakdown as fodder for teaching. You’re going to take something painful and hard and transform it. I know you can do it. You have an incredible power and drive to help others. Don’t let this bump in the road divert you from your mission.”
Had he just called the loss of my mom a bump in the road?
My perspective shifted as he continued speaking. I sensed a new distance between us. I observed the sheen of excitement in his sky blue eyes, the way his voice deepened and accelerated, as if he needed the momentum to carry him forward. How odd I’d never noticed it was almost like a performance, rather than his open heart speaking to mine.
Was this the way I was with my clients? Had I placed myself on a pedestal, pretending I shared their pain and cared for their progress, yet only focused on the goal? Had I looked at their success as my win? I preached about steps throughout the journey. I advised on movement of body to shift energy, listening to mentors and reading from leaders who’d been through difficult times. I was great with sharing quotes and speeches and trying to lift people up.
But was I truly invested in the person, or more interested in boasting that I could fix someone who was broken?
Like I was broken now.
Like Jason was trying to fix me.
I interrupted his impassioned speech. “Are we together, Jason? Or taking a break for my greater good?”
He hesitated, studying my face with a touch of doubt. “Of course we’re together! I’m invested in this relationship. I took a step back because I felt you needed some space. I’d never want to hurt you.”
Truth rang out in his voice. I nodded but avoided his gaze. Why did the whole thing still feel icky? “Okay.”
He kept talking, sprinkling opinions in the air like fairy dust. “Maybe knowing you have family will allow you to rally. You don’t have to go to Sicily to have a connection. You should think about a family get-together over Zoom. Even though it was a shock, this could be good for you. Sharing grief and making sense out of your mom’s choices could be what you need to push past these blocks.”
Jason liked to help. I hadn’t noticed how much before because I’d never been his focus. I stood up. “Thanks. I have a lot to think about.”
He tried to lean in to give me a kiss, but I smoothly turned and reached for my purse, and he didn’t push the issue. “What are you going to do with the rest of the podcast?”
I shrugged. “Not sure.”
He pressed his lips together. He seemed to be battling between the desire to give me another lecture and accepting my answer. “Why don’t we have dinner this week? I don’t think I realized how bad things were. I was devastated watching you cry on live stream.”
I tilted my head up in challenge. “Were you? Or did you judge me for wrecking the entire interview?”
Jason frowned and squeezed my shoulder. “Babe, it was heartbreaking. I’m not sure why you seem mad at me, but I truly am trying to be supportive. Why don’t you text if you want to see me this week? We’ll leave it up to you.”
Dammit, why did I still get the sense I was being patronized? Maybe I was sorting through a mess of emotions and our relationship was bound to take a hit. I kept thinking about Mom’s silent disapproval of Jason’s actions that night at dinner. I’d defended him, but her judgment had leaked into my own mind, making me question things I never had before. It had been easy to ignore when things were good between Jason and me, but with these sudden cracks, I was beginning to wonder.
I said goodbye and thought about Jason’s easy rejection of my going to Sicily. He made good points. We could meet and talk over Zoom. And if my grandparents had disowned their own daughter over a simple disapproval of her choices, they sucked. Why would I want to even know them? And why would they want to meet me after years of not caring? Unless Mom’s death had made them regret their actions.
Questions exploded in my head. I’d gone to Jason to calm my mind and share, but I returned more confused than ever. My tentative rise in confidence and work productivity had slid down, and I’d avoided calling back my clients or going on social media. My public humiliation was making its way through various feeds, and though most had been supportive and sympathetic, there was an underlying judgment I couldn’t get out of my head. The slightly patronizing sympathy of people who had no idea what hell was. Or if they did, they’d quickly forgotten, comparing me to their own experiences and finding me lacking. Especially when my entire platform was built on helping others move forward with positivity and action. I represented the worst example of my teachings.
I got back to my apartment and looked around. Other than my comfy sofa and blanket, where I pretty much stayed, the rest of the place seemed like a ghost town. I’d lost too much weight, choosing to forgo nutrition for sleep, and lacking motivation to cook. My meals came from Instacart at Whole Foods and were keeping me alive. There was no evidence of pets or a boyfriend, no personal belongings or mess scattered about. Just a trendy, perfectly nice space to house any occupant. All those personal touches I’d carefully picked out were nice but had no intimacy.
Dear God. The place had no soul.
All the things I’d boasted about, believing I was a success story, faded away. I walked to the dresser and picked up my parents’ photo. They were holding me between them, their faces laughing, squeezing me tight with the ocean roaring behind us. I remembered that day, remembered running across the sand under the hot sun and licking melty sweet ice-pops and searching for seashells that pricked my feet. I remembered the feel of the scratchy towel Dad wrapped around me and the way my mother’s olive skin shone and gleamed with suntan lotion, the wet strands of her hair falling over her shoulders in tousled dark waves.
A longing hit hard and I sank to my knees and cried, wondering what I was going to do next.