Until I Find You - Rea Frey Page 0,25

and takes a sip of something herself. “So you know Crystal.”

I nod. “I do. We met in our grief group.”

“I’m so glad you two have each other.” She flips a few pages of a notebook. “I’m sure she told you this is solutions-based therapy, so I’d love to just give you the quick spiel about how it all works. And how it might be different from other types of therapy you may have tried.”

“Well, I’ve tried exactly no therapy, so…”

She laughs. “Well then, this should be easy.” She clears her throat. “In these sessions, what we’re here to do is to figure out how to cope with your loss and then come up with a plan of action. You’re not going to think about what you’re going to do. You’re going to actually do it.”

“Basically the opposite of regular therapy then,” I joke.

Dr. Gibbons chuckles. “It’s very effective, if that’s what you mean.” She clears her throat. “So tell me why you’re here.”

I think about my litany of recent concerns: last night’s party, being followed, feeling afraid in my own home. Then, I think about the bigger issues: Chris’s death, my mother’s death, insomnia, the move, and even the stress of the impending renovation. “My friends don’t think I’m grieving properly.”

“And what does proper grief look like?”

“I’m not really sure.” I pull a throw pillow onto my lap. “Some days, I think I’m okay and other days, I can barely get out of bed. Except I have to get out of bed. I have to keep moving. Stasis is death, right?”

“Sure, that’s what they say.”

“My friends also think I’m becoming paranoid.” I remove the pillow and toss it aside.

“Paranoid about what?”

“Paranoid about being followed.” I tell her about the walk to the park, the unlocked door, the moved Pack ’n Play, the footsteps on the monitor, that sense of someone watching me, and the party. “I literally feel like someone is toying with me.”

“Why would someone be toying with you?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I even wake up in the middle of the night, and I swear I can make out the blurred shape of someone just standing there, watching me. I know there’s no one there, but it’s unnerving at times.”

“I’m sure. This feeling of being followed … did you have it before your husband and mother died?”

“No.” I think back to my insulated city life. “Only since I moved.”

“Do you think anything else is contributing to this sense of paranoia?”

“Maybe.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m not sleeping very well. I have a three-month-old son.”

“How’s that been going?”

“Parenting?” I smile. “Amazing. Jackson is easily the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s just…” I lean forward slightly. “Lately, I’ve been having these nightmares about him.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

“I can’t find him. He’s not in his crib, but I can hear him crying. That sort of thing.”

“Well, given your condition and what you’ve been through, Rebecca, I think that’s a perfectly natural nightmare to have.”

“They’re just so real,” I confess. “My friend gave me some sleeping pills. She says if I just take them and get caught up on sleep, everything will be different.”

“Do you think sleep would help?”

“I do.” I nod. “I’m desperate for it.”

“Then your friend might have a point.”

“I just hate the thought of Jackson needing me in the night and being too out of it to help him.” I fiddle with my Bradley watch, fingering the raised markers and magnetized ball.

“That’s a legitimate concern.”

“There’s something else.” I sigh. “There’s this guy—my ex—Jake.” An involuntary warmth spreads through my body. “Before I lost my sight, we were very seriously involved.” I swallow. “Long story short, he was a cop. He got transferred to another city, and I didn’t want to move, so we broke up.”

“And?”

I absorb her shape, the pieces of her coming through like an abstract painting. “Well, he’s back in Chicago. He reached out to me on Facebook.”

“Did you respond?”

“I did. And now I feel guilty.”

“Why?” There’s a rustling of fabric, and I imagine her crossing and uncrossing her legs.

“Because I just lost my husband. It’s too soon to even think about anyone else, isn’t it?”

“Do you think it’s too soon?”

“I don’t know.” I work something out in my head, maybe for the first time. “I honestly think I fell for Chris because he was so unlike Jake—or anyone I’d dated, for that matter. I was scared of being alone. I needed stability, certainty, someone who could handle my diagnosis. Chris wasn’t scared