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PENNY

“Penny?”

I turn to the sound of the knock on the door and my momma’s concerned voice. “Everything’s fine.”

“I heard you crying. Do you want to talk?”

I flop back on the bed, covering my hands over my eyes. Even being surrounded by the fluffy cotton candy cloud of my pink comforter isn’t very comforting. I am tired of talking. I am tired of feeling like I’m surviving as only half a person. For the past year, I’ve been forced to talk—forced to feel .

And now I’m done.

I just want to move forward with my life, the best way I know how.

Visiting Mark Tanner in prison was not one of my brightest ideas—even I can admit that. However, seeing him did actually help me unload some of the feelings blistering my heart from the inside out. Despite feeling emotionally drained by the time Graham and Nic arrived to pick me up, it was therapeutic to see the person who trashed my life behind bars. Unfortunately, though, I think it only served to make my brothers more on edge.

And when they are nervous like that, freedoms get taken away.

Poor Angie and Claire…

How do they even cope with my controlling and possessive brothers?

“Pen?” Momma asks, reminding me I never responded.

I sit up in bed, dragging my fingers through my hair. “No, Momma. I promise I’m fine.” I want to believe that. I do. Maybe if I keep saying it, I eventually will be.

I quickly dry my tears, throw on a shirt dress, and open the door. My smile is forced, but I know that there is major cause to be concerned considering I just spent the better part of the last year in a mental facility. Now everyone in this house is walking on eggshells around me, worrying that if they take the wrong step, I will break and go back to my unresponsive self.

It’s a lot of pressure to put on myself to act like my emotions are in check and to go through life wondering how many people are filtering their words for my fragile ears, when all I am yearning for is normalcy—which for me means drama.

Controversy.

I crave it.

I just want to feel like myself again and not this washed-out, broken version of me. My eyes don’t even recognize my own reflection anymore, and maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I can reinvent myself beyond changing my hair. Maybe I can start over again. Perhaps, I can reacquaint myself with what I want out of life.

“You would tell me if something’s wrong?” Momma asks, reaching for my hand to hold.

“Yes, Momma, of course.” I glance at the watch that was a gift from Graham for Christmas last year, seeing that I’ve slept way too long today. It is now afternoon. Maybe if I had something I’m passionate about, I’d be better able to channel my energy and focus my mind. I need a hobby or, better yet, a job.

“It’s nice out.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure is. I can pack you up food and you can eat out in the garden or by the pool if you want.”

My smile is genuine this time. If it wasn’t for my momma who sent me weekly letters while I was in Seattle at Soulful Mind, I may not have recovered as quickly as I did. Her love is pure and without measure.

I’m just in a slump. Or maybe it’s a mood. Regardless, it’s probably because I’m turning another year older tomorrow, and I’m still struggling to find my purpose.

I get it—I am young.

At least that is what everyone around me tells me. They say I have so much time to figure it all out, yada yada. However, I am ready now . If I wait until tomorrow, I will miss out on all that I can accomplish today.

I need to make a road map. Some plan of action to get me out of this mental rut and on to bigger and brighter things.

I follow Momma into the kitchen and help her wrap up some fruit, pasta salad, and a sandwich.

“Is Dad still working?” I ask, noticing that the house is quiet.

It’s always quiet here.

Too quiet.

At Soulful Mind, I got used to the nightly check-ins and the sound of footsteps outside my door. At one point I think they had me on suicide watch. I would never have taken my own life—even at my lowest. That’s just how the staff viewed me when I first arrived. I was just a shell. And it took them months to even crack through enough to get me to talk during sessions.

My mind was constantly moving, though. I was just not brave enough to provide the verbal commentary until I felt safe.

I know it was scary for my family. I was scared too. I thought I would never be able to break through my own mental block to get free.

“So much for retiring, right?” Momma says with a huff.

I laugh. “Yeah, but he promised he would once Claire has the baby. I think he is using being a grandfather as a way of letting go of his dedication.”

“Pssh,” Momma says, making a face. “That man will never lose his passion. He’ll just redirect it. He has already created blueprints for the baby’s nursery furniture. Ya know, just a little weekend project to keep him from getting bored.”

“You don’t have room to talk, Momma. I wonder who designed it?”

“It’s not my fault those big box stores lack the elegance and finesse that the baby’s room needs. I’m just glad that Claire is finally accepting help.”

“Did she have a choice?”

Momma props her hands on her hips, giving me a fake glare. “Always. But some people just need some gentle persuading.”

“That’s one way of looking at it, I guess.”

“So…”

“So…?” I brace myself for one of Momma’s abrupt changes of topic, because they are usually way off course.

“Ivan has been asking about you.”

Who? Ivan… He must not have made that big of an impact on me if I can’t even remember him. “Your friend’s son?” I finally inquire.

“Oh,”—she claps her hands together in unnecessary glee—“you remember him.”

Barely.

We met a few times when his mom would visit in between trips to Colombia, and apparently we used to be friends as toddlers while attending the same indoor play space in town. I’m pretty sure the only coffee we’ll ever drink in this house is the good kind from their country. But in reality, I really don’t think we’d be a good match—and this is what this line of conversation is about. I can tell from the hopeful eyes of my momma looking back at me.

Please, just stop.

I don’t do well with the whole matchmaking thing. It’s as if everyone else thinks they know what’s best for me.

“You guys go way back, you know?”

I shrug. “I honestly can’t remember too much about him.” I think he has dark features and is really good at sports. My bank of knowledge is basically supplied by an overstepping mother who loves to “help,” which translates to meddle.

But I could also be wrong, and he’s a serial killer who collects fingernails in a jar in his basement.

Momma smiles a knowing smile. “Well, he can’t make it to your birthday, but he did get you a gift.”

What? Why? We don’t even know each other. I mean, not really. Maybe we did before as babies. But definitely not now.

That’s weird.

I take the box that Momma hands me and pull off the lid.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

And I didn’t even have to fake my enthusiasm—because it is a very nice gift.

As predicted, guilt strikes me right in the heart.

Ivan was being thoughtful.

“Well, what is it?” Momma bounces on her feet, trying to get a better look.

I pull out the hoodie shirt that has the Colombian flag printed along the front. It is lightweight enough for cooler summer nights. “I love it.”

“Ivan has been working under Dad at the office.”

“Oh, yeah?” I feign interest. I have to balance between being nice and trying not to give my momma some type of illusion. I honestly have no clue what she actually tells her friend and what could potentially get back to Ivan.

“So, maybe him mentoring someone young and fresh will help him step away from the business.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I still am holding out hope that the baby arriving will make him want to slow down.”

“That’s a good point.” And probably a step in the right direction. Dad deserves to rejuvenate with much-needed time off and enjoy his next season in life.

I pack up the food and then grab a can of sparkling orange juice from the fridge. I turn back to Momma, who is sorting out a stack of mail that is resting on the counter.

“I still can’t believe Nic is on board with Claire’s desire to wait until delivery to find out the gender. Or maybe he paid off the ultrasound tech just to know ahead of time. It’s not like he or Graham have any patience when it comes to things they cannot control.”

Waving some junk mail into the air, Momma lets out a laugh. “Well, both boys have met their match with their ladies. Serves them right for all of the stress they caused me over the years. Getting pregnant with you was the universe’s way of giving me some balance.”

I smile. My brothers deserve happiness, and they sure found it with the women who have consumed their hearts. “I’m just glad neither had to be bailed out of prison.”

“Ha, I wouldn’t place a bet on that. You know how hotheaded they can get when it comes to those they love.”

“Yup.” I nod in agreement. “They have quite the reputation at the facility.”

Momma smiles. “Oh, without a doubt. You know every gray hair that I try to hide on my head was caused by them. I blame them for everything. It’s how I cope.”

I giggle and move over to the back door. At least I can find some small amount of humor in my life. “I can only imagine the impressions they’ve made when I wasn’t around to witness their behavior.”

Momma looks to be deep in thought. “It’s probably for the best we never find out.”

I slip on my pink Converse shoes and grab the tote bag I have hanging on a hook. I double-check that my journal and pen are inside. Part of my ongoing therapy sessions involve self-reflecting and understanding my triggers that make me shut down. I’d like to think that all of the self-talk I do has been helping, but honestly, some days I doubt I’ll ever go back to being the carefree Penny who used to trust everyone—especially men—without reservation.

Maybe I should stop trying to go back to being my old self and just learn to get to know the new me. So much has changed that I’m not even sure I can knit the two versions together.

“Oh, here, Penny. This just came in the mail. Dad had some sent to the house to check the quality before distributing them to the masses. Maybe you’d be interested?”

Turning around, I take the flyer from Momma’s extended hand and look down at it. “Oh, the annual charity auction for Dad’s work. I missed last year’s…”

“But you can attend this one if you want,” Momma quickly interjects, her voice hopeful and jolly.

“Yeah,” I say, almost as an afterthought. I tuck the oversized postcard into my journal, so I can look at it later.

I wave to Momma and slip out the door, with my packed bag and a rolled-up blanket tucked under my arm. The smell of jasmine and freesia overwhelms my senses, as the rush of sweetness fills up my nostrils.

When I make it down to the patio, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over me. That’s what this place does to me. It provides the perfect dose of nostalgia, paired with the safety net of having two parents who love me dearly.

The pool’s surface glistens in the sun. Bending down, I glide my hand through the water, testing its temperature. It’s just right. Maybe later I’ll take a dip.

When I was getting treatment, I often spent my days outside in the sunshine. Soulful Mind is one of the top places in the country for mental trauma and rehabilitative services. While I didn’t particularly enjoy being there, it was a way of overcoming some of the hurdles keeping me from living a full life again.

But it still feels like I’m lacking the passion and drive to do more than just mope around and sleep. I guess it could be depression? Although, I really don’t feel sad. Maybe I’m just lonely—or bored.

I place my bag down onto the grass and then spread out the pink-and-white checkered blanket. I thought changing my hair and buying a few new clothes would shake me out of this rut. However, I think I need to set some reachable goals and come up with a viable action plan to home in on what I really want to get out of this next chapter of my life.

If there was one thing I learned this past year, it’s that the time is now. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.

Mark Tanner might still think he’s the demon lurking around in my life, but the real predator is time and our inability to stop it from progressing forward.

Second by second…

No matter how I look at it, I lost opportunities while at Soulful Mind, and that’s time I’ll never get back.

But I did gain a better understanding of my own self.

And that intrinsic knowledge is priceless.

While I might lack the foresight to achieve my goals, I at least have self-awareness of what I really want out of life.

Simply put—I want to live. Live for today. Live for tomorrow. And live for the hope of a better future.

I pull out my journal and pen before finding refuge in the center of the blanket. Birds tweet melodically in the neighboring trees, while my newly dyed blonde hair blows in the breeze.

I push the top of the pen against the notebook to extend the point. I flip through the filled pages, noticing that my entire journal is full. I don’t even have a page left. How did I not notice until now? I flip open the back cover and decide that the empty margins will work for now. I can always transfer my list to a fresh book later.

I start writing, allowing my brain to just dump ideas out onto the small section of blank space.

Goals for the Summer:

1. Make at least one female friend

2. Find a job

3. Learn to shoot a gun

4. Move out of my parents’ house

5. Step out of my comfort zone

6. Buy something frivolous

7. Get my driver’s license

8. Kiss a boy man

I take a deep breath as I think about the last couple of goals that I need to work on in order to overcome some of the mental stress my brain endures when faced with a few triggering challenges involving men.

9. Allow someone to tie me up

10. Give a man permission to blindfold me

11. Kiss a random stranger

I reach into my bag and pull out my sandwich. Peeling back the wrapper, I take a bite. I reread my scattered list, trying to think of anything else to add to it. At least I have a road map to what needs to be done to gain a bit more independence and be a little less fearful of everything that crosses my path.

Mark Tanner may not have raped me when I was incapacitated. However, my brain still hasn’t been able to separate the feeling of being violated from what actually happened. If I ever have hopes of getting a boyfriend, I need to be able to fully function when things get intimate and not freak out at the first intentionally suggestive touch.

Ha. Who am I kidding? I’m pretty sure Graham and Nic will scare off any guy that even tries to get near me—long before clothes start shedding.

They proved as much when any guy at the facility would go from talking to me to completely ignoring me, in a matter of days. If I’m going to work on my goals, I need to do it without my two overbearing shadows.

Who needs an overprotective father, when you have two controlling brothers who basically have zero qualms about background checking anyone who comes within a six-foot radius? How Angie and Claire can function with their hovering men is a mystery to me.

But I love them with my whole heart.

Stubbornness runs in our family, so we are all bound to clash at times.

I twirl my pen into my hair, wrapping a strand around it. And just for fun, I add a few more goals. If you can’t challenge yourself, then your life will forever be boring.

12. Have wild, passionate sex (and actually enjoy it)

13. Go to a sex toy store (and buy something fun and unexpected)

Feeling satisfied with my to-do list, I roll to my side and reach for my beverage. I pop open the tab, hearing the satisfying sound of the fizz. Despite the therapy facility having stellar food, I often would hit up the vending machine during our walkabout hour each evening and make a junk food buffet, using the exorbitant amount of money my brothers would add to my account card. I guess it was my way of preserving some normalcy in my life, when everything else seemed so out of place.

As much as it’s nostalgic living back here at my parents’ house, I need to do things on my own. Tomorrow, I’ll be another year older, and the last thing I need is to get comfortable being stagnant.

Grabbing my phone, I open up the search engine and type in “roommate needed in Portland,” and then click to search. Several app and service ads fill up the screen, allowing me to scroll through to see which one looks the most professional. Settling on Roommate Finder, I open up the App Store and download it. I eat some fruit while I wait for it to install.

Knowing that I want to live in the city helps me narrow down the location. I want to stay west of the rivers to avoid some of the college students seeking out a roommate. I have no intention of going back after being gone for so long. Even when I did attend, I wasn’t sure it was the right choice for me anyway. A formal education may have worked for Graham and Nic, but I’ve always been the one to go against the grain.

I guess I could look for a modeling job. I am less naive than I was before. Trauma will do that to a person. I could also waitress or apply to a clothing store. My skill set is limited, but at least my willingness to put forth the effort is abundant.

I fill out the personal information form for the app and allow the tool to find me the perfect rental and roommate based on what I need and what I can comfortably afford. Maybe I’ll even meet someone friendly and we can become friends.

Dropping out of college early definitely took away several opportunities to meet and connect with people my age. Sure, I had friends in high school, but our lifestyle choices didn’t align, and connections faded over time. Then, being in Seattle and having people there just temporarily didn’t allow me to develop strong friendships.

I’m nearly positive I’d have made a horrible friend during that chapter of my life anyway.

Friends listen. Friends share emotions. Friends want to hang out.

I was incapable of doing any of those things. If you don’t nurture relationships, they don’t tend to grow.

When the app stops searching, I have eighteen possibilities to sift through. I choose my top three favorites and do a virtual tour of the building and rental units. A thrill of excitement rushes through me at the chance of starting fresh again. I can be anyone I want to be, and it’s my choice on what to share or not share with others about my hiatus this past year.

Feeling daring—something I haven’t felt in so long—I click “accept” for the apartment that appeals to me after the tour. I have a month to test out the lease. If I am not happy there, I can always move again. The bonus is that on this particular unit, there already is a match for a roommate that meets the requirements for the filters I set for the search. Win-win if you ask me.

Gathering up my items, I pack them into my bag and make my way back toward the house. Things are already feeling brighter. Maybe I can assimilate myself back into the real world more smoothly than I was originally planning.

I just hope that Graham and Nic aren’t going to be hurdles to jump over. I need to do some things on my own. Surely they can understand that? I lost too much time to be idle and complacent now. I just need to play my cards right and give my brothers the illusion that they are in control. The last thing I need is for them to jack up all of my plans.