Haven Bound

36. Chelsea

36

Chelsea

Leaving Austin’s arms this morning felt like an impossible task, but with everything that’s happened, I’m looking forward to seeing Dr. Harper today. My mind has been spinning with everything that has been happening. Jason’s unwelcome appearance back in my life, my mom reconnecting with Dan, and the whirlwind of emotions that surround Austin being back in my life, but not knowing what it all means or where we go next is making me feel like every aspect of my life is out of my control.

I’m starting to worry about what it will look like when the dust finally settles.

When I tried to climb out of bed for the first time this morning, Austin locked his arm around my waist and pulled my body flush against his. Now, two more mind-blowing orgasms and one hot shower later, I’m finally walking into my therapist’s office. The soft instrumental music in the lobby is meant to be relaxing but instead has me feeling like I’ve been left on hold by some 1-800 customer service hotline.

I follow Dr. Harper into her office after she calls me in, and she sits relaxed in her chair with one leg crossed over the other. Her notepad is balanced in her lap as she jots down notes about the things that have happened since our last appointment. I give her as much detail as I can without telling her about Austin’s real job.

I didn’t realize how much weight would be lifted from my shoulders by simply confessing that I feel safer now, knowing that Dan is dead. I also tell her that my mom had been reconnecting with Dan prior to his death. It’s not like I can tell her that my boyfriend— is he my boyfriend? —killed him. I wasn’t even sure if my mom knew that he was dead yet.

She finally stops writing and looks up from her notepad to say, “Chelsea, I want you to know your feelings are valid. Someone responsible for so much pain in your life is gone and can no longer be a threat. How are you feeling about your relationship with your mom?”

Her question brings an ache to my chest, and I tilt my head back, eyes closing as I gather my thoughts. After a moment, I open them and pull one of the throw pillows into my lap, fingers playing with the bordering fringe.

“Honestly? I’m more concerned about how his death is going to affect her. She doesn’t do well with major changes. If they really were reconnecting, I’m worried she’s going to spiral when it finally sinks in that he’s gone.” We talked about confronting my mom about my childhood trauma just a couple of weeks ago, and now the person responsible for that trauma is dead. I’m back to worrying about how my mom will react, only this time for an entirely different reason.

The timing of everything couldn’t be worse. I get why Austin needed to take Dan out sooner rather than later. I just wish that my mom hadn’t been in the process of trying to bring Dan back into her life .

“You say you’re worried about your mom spiraling. What does that look like to you?” Dr. Harper’s question hangs in the air between us while my fingers absent-mindedly twist and tug at the pieces of fringe on the pillow.

In truth, I don’t have an exact answer for her. My mom’s spiraling has looked so different over the years depending on the situation. It’s nearly impossible to anticipate which version Dan’s death will cause. I’m most worried that she’ll sink into a deep depression because I’ve always been the one to pull her out of it. With everything going on right now, I refuse to be the one responsible for her.

“When she falls into a depressive episode, she sinks into herself and becomes a shell of the woman that she usually is. She goes from being vibrant and so full of life to being unable to get herself out of bed. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t socialize. All she does is lay in the dark and cry. I know that depression is something a lot of people struggle with but…” I trail off, thinking of all of the times over the years that my mom has had to be admitted to a behavioral health hospital. While the reasons for her admittance vary, depressive episodes have been the cause more than a few times.

My mom requires medications to keep her brain chemically balanced, and when depression takes over, she often forgets to take all of them. If they aren’t taken at the right time or in the right combination, they won’t work how they are supposed to, which only leads to more problems.

“Depression is, unfortunately, something a lot of people struggle with. But I understand how challenging it can be to have a parent who battles a mental illness.” Dr. Harper’s soothing voice calms my rattling thoughts, and I nod, staring down at the pillow in my lap. “I’d like to encourage you to only focus on the things that you can control. You can not control, nor are you responsible for, your mother’s reactions and behavior. All you can do is support her to the best of your ability while still keeping your boundaries in place.”

We talked through some more situations and scenarios, and I left with my head held a little higher, feeling a bit more prepared for whatever life will throw at me next.

As easy as it would be to dwell on the darkness brought on by everything that’s happened recently, I have far too much to look forward to. Starting with the "family barbecue" that I now know is actually meant for the members of The Phoenix Legion. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t feeling a bit unsettled about meeting so many people whose jobs quite literally involve assassination. But I’m also looking forward to seeing a different side of Austin.

Quinn’s already at Buttersweet by the time I arrive through the back entrance. We’re closed to the public today, but she jumped at the chance when I offered her a few extra hours to ensure everything is ready for the event.

One of these days, hopefully someday soon, I’ll be able to get her to open up to me and tell me what’s going on. Something about Quinn, about the way she always seems to be darting out for one appointment or another, tells me that she’s got a lot more going on than what she allows to be seen from the surface .

“How’d it go?” Quinn asks, her gaze focused on an assortment of mini bundt cakes as she pipes what I know to be cream cheese frosting in soft swirls.

I’ve told her about my therapy sessions enough that she knows that most conversations during those sessions involve my mom or childhood trauma. I get the feeling that Quinn might be battling some trauma of her own.

“It actually went really well. I don’t think I realized how badly I needed that session. How’s it going in here?” I ask, throwing my hair up into a messy ponytail before grabbing an apron off the rack and throwing on a pair of food-safe gloves.

Everything is already baked, and all that’s left to do is make sure that all of the cakes are frosted and everything is packaged. We’ll have to come back in the morning to get everything loaded up, but we should be able to manage it with just the two of us.

“Pretty good! I’ve got these mini bundt cakes just about done, and then I think all that’s left to do is frost the larger carrot bundt cake and package up the cookies and brownies.” Quinn doesn’t shift her focus as she speaks, her attention remaining fully on the task in front of her as she finishes piping frosting over the last few mini cakes.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping with this, Quinn,” I tell her, walking over to the large commercial refrigerator designated for finished cakes and grabbing the carrot bundt cake that’s waiting to be frosted.

She glances up at me with a small smile on her face and shrugs a shoulder. “I should be thanking you,” she says, shifting her focus back to the last few mini bundt cakes on the baking sheet in front of her. “The extra hours are a huge help and staying busy helps keep my mind off things.”

Her voice is soft as she speaks, and my chest tightens with concern. “You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. I’ve got your back," I tell her. She nods her head and mumbles a thanks.

I won’t push her. All I can do is make sure that she knows that whatever demons she’s battling, she’s not alone.

We spend the next hour finishing up the cakes, getting the assortment of cookies and brownies packaged, and cleaning up the kitchen. We danced and jammed out to a playlist of upbeat 2000's pop songs as we worked and I found my mind continuously drifting back to Austin.

We have moved through so many things already, and our relationship has grown so much in the short time that he’s been back in Haven Beach. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m feeling excited and hopeful for whatever comes next.