Page 14 of That Summer
Once standing, she dusted off her pants. “Sorry for that outburst.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Besides, I wouldn’t have expected any less. That was a huge step.” He held open the door for her as they entered the pub. “Go clean yourself up and I’ll get us a table.”
Twangy, old-style country music floated over them from the speakers in the ceiling. The interior of the pub remarkably bright with a long wooden bar flanking the left side, and a variety of tall bar tables and chairs scattered across the floor. She made her way to the bathrooms. A distressed-looking divider separated the washrooms from the otherwise open and empty space.
A young waitress, sporting more fringe than was cool, passed by her and stopped instantly. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out some cash. “This should more than cover whatever we order.”
The waitress tucked the money into a pocket. “Sure. You sure you’re okay?”
“It’s been a helluva day, that’s all.” She tipped her head towards the tables. “Just make sure he’s well taken care of.”
“Will do.”
She stepped into the bathroom and splashed cold water against her face, cooling it in an instant. She kept her head over the sink and let the droplets fall. Each drip matched with a breath. Another splash. More breaths. A few minutes passed, and she felt in control again. The tears had stopped, no longer running with the cool water. Her heart returned to a normal pace. Even her breathing was less laboured.
I’ll be okay. I survived the ride. In one piece.
The paper towel scratched as it skidded over her tender skin. Tossing it, she studied herself in the mirror. Pale as a ghost, she gently pinched some colour back into her cheeks and gave them a quick rub. The tips of her fingers palpitated under her bottom lashes, hoping to reduce the puffiness, and maybe take the darkening circles and bags away. Using her hand as a weak substitute for a comb, she ran it through her long dark hair, attempting to reduce the flyway’s and stray strands that had escaped from the braid. It wasn’t working and she pulled it apart, preferring a high ponytail instead.
Feeling more secure, she stepped outside the bathroom, spotting Lucas in a heartbeat. He was on the phone, so she hung back to let him finish the conversation.
How would she ever begin to repay him for everything he did for her? There was no doubt in her mind he was as emotionally wrung out as she was. He was worn down and beat up. God bless him though. Today was a dark day, and she was grateful he sat in the restaurant waiting for her. He hadn’t run when she hit bottom. Not like her ex-boyfriend, Derek.
Chapter Four
“Aurora, please have a seat.”
This therapist was older than the last. Way older than Chris and probably, if she were being honest, as old as her daddy. All the previous shrinks she’d seen had all been young and unsuccessful. Well, unsuccessful in helping her, as their wild ideas positivelysucked.
The older man ambled over to his desk and grabbed her folder before he sat across from her on one of the two couches in the room. “I’ve been updated about your issues.”
In order to avoid rolling her eyes in his face, she shut them instead.
“I understand what my colleagues have suggested and tried. But I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.”
“Okay.” Re-focusing on him, she kicked out of her shoes and pulled her legs under her. “I hate wearing shoes.”
The couch caved beneath his mass as he readjusted himself. “Doesn’t bother me. I’m glad you’re getting comfortable.”
“Oh I’m hardly comfortable. I’ve been passed around from shrink to shrink week after week.”
“Ah yes, something I’d like to address.” A brief peek into her folder and then he tossed it on the table beside him. “I’m the fourth person you’ve seen in this office.”
“Fifth, actually.”
“Right. Forgive me. I wasn’t including Dr. Johnson.” He grabbed for a notepad. “Any reason why you keep changing doctors?”
A soft snort. “No one seems helpful. The techniques they’ve suggested aren’t working.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Because they’re not,” she said tersely.
His forehead puckered, broadcasting years of wrinkles. “Okay. You’ve worked on a few mental techniques like hypnosis, some role-playing and one attempt at shock therapy. Is that right?”
“Yeah.”