Survivor - By Kaye Draper Page 0,18
someone like me could find love, then they definitely could too. I didn’t know how to give them hope when I was sitting there feeling so false. Anything I could possibly tell them would be a lie, a half-truth at best. “He said I was interesting because I had been through so much and he wanted to eat lunch together.”
I could hear little murmurs of approval and someone said, “Aww….” I thought I might be ill.
Melissa patted me on the knee. “I think it’s important to remember that how you see yourself isn’t always how others see you,” she said honestly. “What you’ve been through doesn’t have to be a shameful thing. It has been transformational for all of you, and that kind of strength makes you interesting. You are constantly comparing yourselves to who you used to be- but new people only know you as you are now.” She nodded at me in encouragement, but I was feeling conflicted.
“I’m tired,” I admitted, erasing her smile. “He isn’t like me. It’s so hard to keep up with him.” I looked down at my hands then back up at the group. “I think my biggest challenge is when I see him beside other people- people that are whole. Then I wonder if he should be with someone like them instead.” Melissa was listening, but she didn’t comment, letting me get it out. “What if I’m taking away his chance to be happy?
I glanced away from the group, catching a movement out of the corner of my eye. Peter stood in the hallway, just outside the door. Melissa caught my glance and started wrapping things up, but I wasn’t listening. Peter hadn’t come in yet, honoring the boundaries of the group, but I knew he could hear us just fine. His gaze caught mine and he shook his head and mouthed something. I thought it might have been no one else.
I hadn’t meant to bear my soul to him, and I felt exposed with all the people around me. I breathed a sigh of relief when we were officially released and people began to congregate around the snacks and refreshments.
Peter and a few other spouses and significant others came in and joined the group for refreshments. He was genuine and relaxed, and everyone adored him, but I could feel the subtle space between him and the others, and that space included me when I was by his side. I felt like I was being pulled in two directions- us or them. I could feel my attachment to Peter pulling me away from my place. I felt like I was being sucked into a vortex, but was powerless to stop it.
Chapter 6
I was surprised, to say the least, when Peter pulled into the parking garage of a large teaching hospital. He hadn’t told me where we were going on our date, just that I should dress comfortably. He smiled at my weary look. I hate hospitals. Hate them with a passion. Sure, a hospital had kept me alive when I was injured, but that just meant that I had a thorough knowledge of their inner workings. I might visit one voluntarily if I was dying. Maybe. Visit one when I wasn’t even sick? Na-uh, no way, no how.
Peter clearly saw this on my face. “You asked me once, what I do with my time.” He gestured toward the main building. “Well, this is it.”
I gave him a deadpan look. “What? You can’t just wrangle up your food the old fashioned way?”
He gave me the look. Seeing that expression on his face, I could see the power and superiority that truly coursed within him. It was horrifying. “Come on, chicken,” he said firmly. “Suck it up.”
I snorted and unbuckled my seat belt. We made our way into the hospital and Peter steered us toward a bored-looking older woman behind a giant desk. Apparently, he was a regular here. The woman- Lisa according, to her nametag- lit up when she saw him. We obtained a pair of volunteer badges and headed for the elevator.
I fingered my plastic badge curiously, impressed. It was a real badge; not just one of those stickers you write your name on. Peter had obviously put some thought into this. I took a deep breath and told myself to relax. He seemed to want to share this part of his life. It was a good gesture. Suck it up.
We got off on the fifth floor. I wheeled off the elevator, taking