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She doesn’t answer, and I keep going.

“I didn’t do anything I expected I would. I went to serve and protect. I went to travel and see other countries. We never made it out of Mexico, and when we got back, we left a dead girl behind.”

Shame and guilt bubble up in my chest. I don’t want to go back to this place, and I glance at Dr. Curtis’s face. She gives me a calm smile, and I take a deep breath, returning my gaze to the tip of the pointer.

The music plays and minutes pass. I listen, trying to relax my mind, trying to go back there, to the place we need to explore. Dr. Curtis says if I can do this, face these memories, it can be a powerful healing tool.

I can do this.

I follow the violins rising and falling over the call of seagulls. I listen to the waves… They remind me of being lost at sea. I think of holding Mindy’s hand. Mindy’s hand in mine, palm against palm…

“I should’ve stayed home that morning. If I hadn’t gone fishing, I would’ve been there to stop him. I could’ve kept him from going up that hill. I could’ve kept everything from falling apart…” Crushing pain fills my lungs. It’s difficult to breathe. “I failed both times. I wasn’t there when they needed me and someone died…”

I can’t go farther.

The music ends.

“You did good.” Dr. Curtis lowers the pointer. “Go home and rest. We’ll start there tomorrow.”

Heaviness follows me home. After my prescribed, nightly meditation, I go to bed with memories thick in my mind. My longing for Mindy is constant, but tonight is different. Tonight, I’m digging deep into my past, unearthing experiences I’ve always controlled, wounds I always suppressed.

I’m exhausted like it’s the middle of harvest, but I’m changing. Like shoots pushing through tightly packed soil, I feel something rising, something new. I didn’t believe it was possible. I gave up before I even came here.

Now a tiny spark of hope rises in the darkness.

25

Mindy

“Home is the hunter!” William throws out his arms as soon as I walk through the door.

William’s apartment is located in the downtown arts district, which is tricky for parking but perfect for his career in theater and interior design.

“Dallas isn’t my home, William.” I step into his hug, and he gives me a long squeeze, engulfing me in his soft body.

“Hush, child. You’re ruining our beautiful reunion scene.”

“I don’t get the reference.” He releases me, and I follow him to the guest room, rolling my suitcase behind me.

“What your generation doesn’t know about film. It’s from The Promise, circa 1979.” He swipes one side of his chiffon cardigan over his shoulder. “Starring Academy Award winner Beatrice Straight.”

“Beatrice Straight…” I think a long minute. “Isn’t that the red-headed lady from Poltergeist?”

“There is hope for you after all!” He lifts my suitcase onto the twin bed, which is covered in a mint green and pink floral shabby-chic spread. “She played Dr. Lesh, the terrified paranormal detective shaking her coffee cup.”

“Are you doing a performance of it?”

“What? Poltergeist?”

“The Promise.”

“Oh, Lord no, that soapy thing?” He sashays around the room, turning on the lamp and opening the closet. “It just came to mind when I saw you on the doorstep looking like you’d lost your identity.”

Nice. William has always had the knack for hitting the nail on the head.

“Well… I don’t consider Dallas my home, but I love visiting you.” I look around the modestly sized bedroom. It’s all coordinated to match the bedspread, and it looks straight out of a Target ad. “I think this room is nicer than my own back home.”

“Your room back home hasn’t changed since you were in elementary school.”