Chapter 17
“It’s okay.” Brianne made a shushing sound in a soothing tone while she rubbed my back. “You aren’t alone, Simone. It’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?” I was still heaving, my body shaking with sobs.
The trash pail was gone, and we were sitting on the red couch in my living room.
Or what was currently my living room. It wouldn’t be in thirty days.
Because I was a complete failure and was going to screw up and end up homeless, divorced, and—
“Stop.” Brianne’s tone no longer consoled me. It was sharp and harsh and stopped my runaway thoughts in their tracks. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but stop it right now.”
“And whatever it is, don’t say it out loud.” Gumbo weaved his way through my feet. “No more careless use of words, Simone.”
On a rational level, I knew they were right. But my emotions still held control. It took time. Water. Breath. Support.
Eventually, the world came back into focus around me.
“How’d I get here?” Across from us, the wooden rocker creaked as it swayed. A crocheted blanket in bold blue was draped across the seat, as if covering someone’s lap. But the chair appeared empty.
“House brought you to me.” Gumbo hopped between Brianne and me and settled on the couch. “We didn’t want to risk anyone seeing you in the lobby.”
“I’ve never seen anyone in the lobby.” I flounced backward to sink into the cushions and whine. “I haven’t seen a single customer since I got here.”
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t there, Sweets,” Brianne said.
My breath caught in my throat. Sweets had been the term of affection my mother used for me. Hearing Brianne use it created a swirl of new emotions. I missed having guidance and a strong, steady presence in my life. I missed someone being casually affectionate with me because I mattered to them.
I dug my head deeper into the plush cushion behind me, self-pity shrouding me in a dark cloud so thick I could almost see it.
“What happens if I fail at the end of thirty days, Gumbo? Do you know?”
“I do.” Gumbo hopped on my lap, placing a paw on each shoulder and holding my eyes. I could not think of anything more disconcerting. “The magic held by Agatha and the house will be returned to the Mighty Oak. It will disperse it as it feels necessary.”
“There’s more,” Brianne chimed in. “The Twins are technically on loan to our realm. Sort of like a work visa. They will be forced to return.”
“That’s right.” Gumbo hopped off my lap and snuggled closer to Brianne. “And all of the good we can do at the Magnolia will be whisked away.”
Whoa. So, no pressure there. If I leaned in to the repercussions, a small thread of panic rose in my chest. What would happen to Lauren? To the patients I had not seen because they didn’t trust me yet? No wonder the Twins were so hostile. I held their future in my hands.
“Great.” I sunk deeper into the couch, like it might swallow me whole, crossing my arms with a hefty pout.
“But you won’t let that happen, Sweets.” Brianne gave me her signature supportive smile. “You’ve got everything you need inside you. You just have to embrace it.”
Embrace it. I couldn’t remember being embraced in ages. Or having someone believe in me and call me Sweets. I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the sense of despair
When was the last time Jeff said anything remotely kind to me? Or looked at me like anything other than a roommate? And though I’d been the one to stab the heart of my relationship with my son, we’d been distant for years before he severed ties.
I couldn’t pinpoint when I’d checked out of my own life. Maybe it wasn’t an exact moment. Maybe, over time, I’d taken on the roles expected of me and performed them adequately. Wife. Mother. Therapist.
But had I ever truly embraced any of them? Nope.
I’d been on autopilot. Going through the motions.
The only time I truly felt anything was when a panic attack engulfed me. And that was not the life I wanted for myself. Not anymore.
Something stirred, deep in my core. I had it inside me. I’d seen hints of it, hadn’t I?
I sat up, waving my hand around, as if the cloud were truly surrounding me. As if I were clearing a fog. As if I were blowing away the stank in the room.
Brianne still sat nearby while I disappeared inside my thoughts, prepared to comfort. Gumbo, the mystical protector, his silky-smooth fur warm against my thigh, had jumped to my aid more than once.
Maybe the Twins weren’t on my side, but they still needed me to succeed. And the two here now believed in me. I felt certain Lauren and Ethan would support me. Plus, I had a giant wolf on my side. Maybe.
I wasn’t alone anymore.
I’d made mistakes. A ton of them. I couldn’t say whether I could correct them all.
But I sure as shit wanted to try. After all, I had nothing left to lose.
The blanket on the rocker shifted before drifting to the floor. Why did it look familiar? Where had I seen that before? It wasn’t the blanket itself that drew me in, it was the color …
Then, it hit me.
“I’ll be right back.” I darted off the couch and down the hallway to the bedroom.
It had been the first room to truly call to me. The first to comfort me. This time, when I entered and really paid attention to the design, I finally understood why. The bedroom I was living in today was an updated, adult version of the bedroom I’d had as a child.
At the foot of the bed was a new piece of furniture, one that wasn’t there when I first got here. It was a blanket chest with chipped corners and a scratched surface.
Okay, so, it wasn’t new. Not exactly. It carried layers of paint from the times I’d redecorated. It had once been the same soft greens as this room. In college, I’d painted it pastel pink and used a store-bought stencil to add brightly colored tulips.
When Jeff and I bought a house, I’d painted it blue. The same color as the items I’d shoved inside.
I dropped to my knees in front of it, lifting the top—remembering at the last second it tended to swing closed on my fingers—and reaching inside to drag out the contents.
A few of my mother’s favorite books. A picture album. A necklace I carried around but never wore or got rid of.
And the Blue Hoard.
Musty piles of scarves. A dozen tea cozies. Pot holders. There used to be a blanket, but it was apparently in the living room now.
I’d mentioned them to Doug during our session, using them as a tool to create a connection with him. Looking at them now, I let the grief of the memories they carried wash over me.
I wished I’d mentioned that part to him. I wished I’d let him see they weren’t a tool. Rather than using it as a connection to the present, I should have let him see my grief over the past.
That, even after thirty years, it fades away yet remains. Like a scar. The sharp sting of the gash was far more painful, but the memory of it can bring the pain to light. Each time you see the scar, you remember the pain anew. Distantly. It doesn’t have the ability to open wounds.
It stays with you, as it should. And, once healed, it becomes part of you. A new skin you carry forever while you march forward.
To create new scars.
I’d held myself back from sharing that with Doug. Over the years, I’d wanted to offer up personal anecdotes to my patients. I’d wanted to go beyond the tools and create true connection. Traditional therapy felt hollow to me. Even modern methods created a distance I didn’t understand.
They didn’t need my problems. I didn’t need to blur boundaries. But they needed to know I understood them. Really understood them. Because I had been through my own wars.
Instead, I’d stifled my voice to do what I thought was expected. I’d tried too hard to look like I was creating a connection that I’d actually severed any hopes of one.
I’d become ineffective because I’d ignored my voice.
My voice. Which was apparently where my power came from. Wouldn’t using it help me transform into the therapist I truly longed to be? Maybe trusting what my soul longed to say out loud was the key to turning things around.
If only I knew how.
I rushed back to the living room where Brianne scratched behind Gumbo’s ear.
“Gumbo, can you show me how to use my power?”
Gumbo opened one eye. A hint of a smile lifted his cute little mug. He stretched his paws and went back to sleep.
“My power is my voice, right? I need to understand it better.”
Gumbo sighed and stood, turned in a circle, then curled closer to Brianne, who watched our exchange in amused silence.
Exasperation swelled in my chest, clogging my throat until I could not swallow. Had I just thought Gumbo would be helpful? Why was he ignoring me?
“Gumbo? Will you please help me?”
Gumbo’s tail twitched, but it was the only sign he’d heard me. As adorable as he was, I wanted to yank his sparkly gold bow right off his neck and stomp on it. I looked to Brianne, lifting my hands to the sky in a WTF gesture.
“Maybe he wants you to use your words more carefully, Simone.” She held the hint of a smile as well, making me even angrier.
I was about to tell them to forget it, that I would do it myself. Then the rocker creaked again. As I turned to it, the blanket still on the floor lifted and draped over an invisible lap.
“Oh, good.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Agatha is watching me, too.”
A breeze sharper than ice crystals slapped me in the face. It didn’t hurt—I don’t think it was intended to—but it was certainly a wakeup call. I heard a distinctive voice in my head scream use your words.
Oh.
I needed to be careful with my words. That made sense. What can I say? Sometimes, I’m a little slow. Especially when emotions are involved.
I closed my eyes, channeling all my breath into my throat to soothe and release the pressure. I waited for the right words to float to the top. Then, I simply released them into the air.
“Gumbo, Mystical Protector of Magnolia, you will help the Ephemeral Supreme Simone, not Agatha, to understand her powers and use them with purpose.”
Brianne clapped so hard I took an amused bow. What a joy it was to have a friend in my corner.
“Okay.” Gumbo stood, arching his back into a deep stretch. “What would you like to learn first?”
I took a moment to think about his question. I had hexes to undo and mistakes to rectify. But I wanted to be sure I did those right. I wanted something basic. A small win that would boost my confidence and help me understand myself better.
When the answer came, my entire body tingled with it.
“I know just where to start.”