to leave, his walk toward the door slow and unsure.
“I love you, Zoe.” His voice cracked with his confession. “I’m so sorry, and I hope one day you can forgive me.”
I barely held my shit together, breaking apart only after I heard the click of the door.
52
It took ninety-two days for Brick to finally stop calling me, filling up my voice mail when I refused to answer. I couldn’t bring myself to block his number, and as the days wore on, he called me less and less, his desperation at an all-time low on his last voice mail when he told me he wouldn’t bother me anymore, ten seconds passing in silence between the last words he uttered and the end of the call.
Today was day thirty-eight of phone silence from him. Every time I’d seen his name flash across my screen, a lump formed in my throat at the thought of talking to him, which I never did. But his persistence had given me a sense of comfort, and now that he’d stopped, had given up, I missed him more than I ever had before.
“So, how are you doing today, Zoe?” Dr. Rapport gazed at me over her thick, beige-rimmed glasses, sliding them back up her nose when they slipped down for the third time since our session started eight minutes ago.
If I had to guess her age, I’d put her in her late forties but no older than fifty. Wheat-blonde curls were piled into a high bun, her light-gray wraparound dress quite stylish, and I couldn’t help but think that she was rather fashionable for a doctor, although I’d never known another head shrink to compare her to.
I’d been seeing her for close to three months now, on the insistence of both Andy and my parents. Telling my mom what happened was difficult, more so because our conversation was over the phone and not in person. She struggled more because she wasn’t physically able to comfort me when I broke down. But our talks were often, and it was only in the past couple weeks that she didn’t constantly ask how I was doing, instead focusing on other topics such as friends, and what new movies I’d seen. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that most days I barely got out of bed to shower and eat.
Natasha, my boss, had been wonderful in accommodating me with extending my short-term leave, even offering me additional sick pay. She didn’t know the extent of what happened, only that I was attacked and trying to work through the events, focusing on healing and getting back to normal, whatever that would look like.
And that was why I sat on the soft leather couch in my psychiatrist’s office, to try and find a hint of the normal again.
“I’m tired, but that’s nothing new.” I smiled but the grin didn’t reach my eyes.
“What else?”
“I’m not as anxious as I once was. Not as paranoid to go outside. I still don’t go anywhere at night, though.” My new phobia was odd considering I was kidnapped in broad daylight. My right shoulder bounced lazily. “It’s progress, right?”
“Yes, it is.” She shifted in her seat, uncrossing her leg only to cross the other. “How are things with you and Andy? Last time you mentioned you sensed some tension there. Are you still experiencing that?”
When I decided to come back here, I called Andy and asked if it would be okay if I stayed with her for a couple weeks. Then those couple weeks turned into a couple months, which at present was just over four and counting. I told her about being taken and most of what happened, but I didn’t tell her it had anything to do with my dad and Brick’s club. I left out that detail and I supposed it was my way of protecting them. She looked after me, mostly making sure I had enough food to eat, seeing as how I barely left her flat. But with her late hours at work, we didn’t see too much of the other. Then recently, she seemed to be acting a bit strange around me, uneasy, unsure. It turned out she started seeing someone, Sophia I believed her name was, and she didn’t know how I would react. When I told her I was happy for her, that I would find someplace else to stay, she hugged me and told me not to worry, that I could stay as long as I wanted,