Page 124 of Even After This
As if on autopilot, I trudge down the street to a gated garden maintained by the community center next door. I visited this haven often when I first started volunteering for the food pantry. After hours, the gate always remained unlocked. With my soul scorching, I need that to be the case today.
My legs wobble as I head for my spot in the farthest corner. A sturdy bench carved of wood and smoothed for comfort rests under the solace of a tree. The bench looks a little worse for wear, and I wonder if it thinks the same of me. I sit, elbows on knees, head in hands.
Choppy breaths escape as gut-honest questions run through my head.
What’s wrong with me?
Am I good enough?
Am I worthy of being loved?
Why am I here?
Am I a disappointment?
My questions sit in raw pain.
I fumble through my purse looking for Kleenex and try to soak up all the tears. But it’s to no avail because the floodgates have opened.
“I want answers.” My guttural words are soft but forceful. “Everything I have loved is gone. I can’t make the love I have work. I have no idea what to do with my life.” I cough through sobs. I curl my hands over the top of my head and clutch my neck. “This is all that I have and all that I am.” My lips tremble. “Is it enough?”
There it is. I’ve said the ugliest things I can think of about myself. I’ve asked the scariest questions I can ask. I’ve voiced the things that I thought could break me.
But instead of breaking me, the returning silence coats me in an odd peace. I don’t move.
The fire in my belly extinguishes, and soft tendrils of smoke release the last of my anguish into the air. I don’t have an exact answer, but somehow my shattered soul knew it had to voice my cries out loud.
I slide my hands across the top of my head, rest them over my closed eyes, and draw in a long breath. Here in the dead of winter, the garden smells of tranquility.
In the distance, the gate creaks open and footsteps approach.
“Meredith?”
First Stanley. Now my sister.
“Are you okay?” Her worried tone lacks the judgment I’ve been dreading.
Holding up a hand, I shake my head.
“I thought I’d find you here.” She plops down next to me, hands intertwined, resting on her purse. “Stanley called. He told me about your breakup with Harlan. And the fun discussion you just had with him.” She sighs. “Who knew he could be such a jerk?”
I sit up and look at her. “He’s right about everything he said.”
We let the conversation rest for a few minutes while we stare in front of us.
At the crinkle of a wrapper and a faint spicy smell, I glance down at Molly’s hands. Peppermint discs.
She pops the candy in her mouth and digs in her purse to pull one out for me. “A peace offering.” Her thick words accompany what looks to be a reluctant smile.
“For what?” I untwist one side and slide the treat out of the wrapper with my teeth. My mouth salivates with a taste from our childhood.
“I’m told I’m highly codependent and if I don’t work on myself, I’ll ‘ruin our relationship.’” She uses air quotes for the last portion of her shocking statement.
I freeze, not wanting to scare away this new version of my sister. “What do you mean?” I ask quietly.
“You stopped talking to me, Meredith, and I fell apart.” Irony fills her short laugh. “And then”—she touches a hand to my knee—“I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I felt relief. I wasn’t in charge of you anymore.”
I just stare at her.
