A Broken Forever(3)

By: Megan Noelle


I bobbed my head in a slow, awkward nod. “Yeah, but she seems to be fitting in so far.”

Amy smiled. “That is great to hear.”

My smile matched hers, but my eyes darted to the clock hanging on the adjacent wall - 1:57, another hour survived. Or so I thought, until I glanced back to Amy and saw something in her face that always meant there was more coming that made me uneasy—curiosity. She closed her notebook, set it on the desk, and turned her full attention back to me.

“Grey, do you mind if I speak openly about a few things?”

I wanted to say no and leave it at that, but I couldn’t. Not only had I subjected myself to this therapy appointment, but Amy had always been there for me. Whether it was because it was her job or she truly cared—it still meant a lot to me.

“Of course,” I said with obvious hesitation.

She nodded and seemed to think for a minute before diving in. “You have been coming to see me for six, six and a half years. You have gone through so much, and I’d like to think you have done some healing from your wounds caused by your past. The reason I say this is because you have also grown so much as a person. You are a co-owner of a successful salon, you have family and friends surrounding you, and you are engaged to a wonderful man.” Amy paused to let her words sink in. She was right; everything in my life did seem to be manageable. Overall I was happy, and my day-to-day issues were small and I always had someone to talk with if I needed it.

The look in her eyes made me wonder if she knew the thought process that was spinning through my head. It wouldn’t surprise me; this woman worked psychological magic.

“Yet, without fail, every single Friday from one to two you are here. Please don’t get me wrong, I love meeting with you, and I think it would feel wrong if you weren’t my last appointment for the week. But when you come in we talk about little things; we talk about work, you fill me in on wedding plans, and then there is a moment I can feel you wanting to go deeper, but you stop it. So, for this week, I’m giving you some homework,” she said with a smirk. “You need to think about why it is that you come here every week. There is some reason deep inside of you that keeps you coming back. I’m not looking for an answer today and I don’t expect it to come easily. But you are here and there must be a reason why. I want you to figure that out.”

More silence filled the room as I felt her eyes piercing me. Finally I exhaled a deep breath and nodded in consent.

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Fantastic.”

We stood and shook hands as we did after every visit. On my way out I gave the receptionist a nod of approval, which was all we needed to set up next week’s appointment. My hand thrust against the glass door to swing it open as rays of sunshine blinded my eyes. Somehow I made it into my car before my knees collapsed. Not a single tear was shed, but I felt my chest heave up and down as I gasped for air. Flashbacks have been coming around more and more frequently, and honestly…it was tearing me apart.

The moments from my past that I longed to forget just weren’t going away. I clutched my heart, trying to send those memories back to the depths of my soul. If I were given the chance to erase the past completely...I wouldn’t hesitate.

A few minutes passed by as I regained my composure. Very few people knew where I came from, the person I used to be and the family I lost. That was the way it would stay.

None of what happened was relevant now. I, Greyson Rose, was strong, independent and I could handle anything. At least, that was who I wanted to be.

Once I found my emotional footing again, I decided I needed a reminder of the person I was now. The one who owned—well, co-owned—my very own salon where I had a two-month waiting list for an appointment with me. No one there knew about my past, and that was exactly the way I preferred it. The voice in the back of my head was starting to speak up and make me doubt myself all over again. I quickly turned up the radio to tune out everything but the words of Martina McBride’s song “A Broken Wing.”

I sang out the lyrics, not well I might add, but it was already making my anxiety fade away. Before I knew it I was pulling into the parking lot of Bella Donna, which in Italian meant beautiful woman. My business partner, Kacie, loved the name since I am just a little less than half Italian and 90% of our clientele were women. I was about to grab hold of my purse and head inside when I noticed a text message from my fiancé, Richard Michaels.

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