Not Yet Yours

Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Harriet

I step out of my therapist’s office and into the sunny street for what I hope will be the last time. Officially, today was my last session with my therapist, but having said that, she has made it clear to me that if I feel like I need any more help, either with my daddy issues or with anything else, I only need to call, and I can be seen by her again for as long as I feel like I need to see her for. I really think I am past that now though. The therapy has helped me so much, but now I think it’s down to me to take what I’ve learned and run with it and try to get on with my life.

My therapist has made me see that my little epiphany about my father’s motives for making me feel like I was poisonous was correct. The fact is, I was never the poison in my parents’ marriage; my father was the poison in there and I can see that now. And it was his fault they got divorced, not mine. But it was easy to blame myself because I was small and defenseless and I couldn’t argue back, and the timing worked out well too. I came along just before the marriage really started to crumble, and at least for a time, I think my father genuinely did think it was my fault he and my mom split up. Over time though, I believe he saw the truth, but he wanted someone else to be hurting like he was and joy oh joy, he chose me for that role. And then I got older, and I wasn’t so small and defenseless, but by then, I had heard my father’s lies so much that they felt real to me like it really was all my fault, so I didn’t even bother trying to defend myself. Even in my own thoughts at that point, I figured my father knew best. But fuck me he didn’t. Not even close to it.

Now that I have not only seen this for myself but also had it confirmed by someone who is qualified to know this shit, there’s not much more for a therapist to do. It’s up to me now to remember that my father was a troubled man who couldn’t take responsibility for his own choices and that none of that is my fault. I have to work to remember that I am not worthless or toxic and everything I touch won’t just break.

I have to learn to let my defenses down and let people in. I have to learn to really believe that I deserve to love someone and to be loved back by them.

I think I have been doing a good job of that with Liam. When I first started my therapy, I was a bit skeptical about it all and I was still waiting for Liam to realize what he was getting himself into with me and leave. When he first bought the second hotel and began working longer and longer hours, at first, I thought he was doing it to get away from me. But instead of running from him based on nothing but my own assumptions, I asked him about it, and he reassured me that wasn’t the case, stuff was just going wrong that he hadn’t anticipated with work, and I learned to believe him when he told me how he felt about me.

I actually think now, in hindsight, that Liam having so much going on at the same time I was having my therapy was a good thing for two reasons. Firstly, it meant that when I thought he was pulling away from me, I was still in the thick of my therapy, so I was able to talk about it all with my therapist which helped me to believe that it was just work and not Liam planning on leaving me when he told me that. The second reason is a much nicer one. Through Liam being missing, and me missing him when he was at work so much and looking forward to the time we did get to spend together, it made me see that my feelings for him are definitely real. And knowing that for sure makes all the therapy sessions and all of the times I have second-guessed myself worth it.

Liam texted me this morning and told me that I was to go to his place after my therapy session because he had a surprise for me. What I didn’t tell him is that I have a surprise for him too. I have to go and pick it up now.

I reach the parking lot where my car is, go to it, and get in. I start the engine and drive away from my parking spot, out of the parking lot, and into the traffic. I’m nervous about the surprise I have for Liam. When he says he has a surprise for me, it’s always something epic that he knows I will love, but I don’t have the kind of money needed to buy something like that, so I’ve made him a sculpture that I hope he understands is from the heart.

I drive to the mall and park my car, then I walk through it, up the stairs, and along the corridor to my studio. I let myself in and go straight to the cabinet and get out the piece for Liam. It’s a clay piece with two heart shapes joined in the center and around them is a circle. The hearts obviously represent the love we share, and the circle is a symbol of forever because there is no break in it.

In the center of the joined hearts, I’ve added a Maya Angelou quote; “In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” I think it perfectly sums up how I feel about Liam and hopefully, it gets across the message that I can’t seem to put into words. That day I poured my heart out to Liam, I told him I loved him, and I do. But for some reason, I haven’t been able to say it since and I’m not sure why. My therapist says I just need time to feel comfortable with words I have purposely avoided using all my life. She’s probably right about that, so in the meantime, I really hope Liam reads the I love you beneath the quote and the melded hearts.

I carefully put the piece into a box and stick the box lid down. I look around for some ribbon but the closest thing that I can come up with is a ball of string, so I decide against using it. I take the box and leave the studio, locking it behind me. I go back to my car and leave the parking lot, join traffic once more and this time, I head straight to Liam’s apartment.

He opens the door when I ring the bell and I go up the stairs and find the door of his apartment open and waiting for me. I go inside, close the door, and go through to the living room where Liam is waiting for me. He stands up when I come in, I go to him, and we kiss.

“How does it feel to be officially therapy-free?” Liam asks after we hug each other, me hugging him one-handed because I have the box in one of my hands.

We sat down on the couch, and I put the box down on the ground at my feet.

“Good,” I say. “Really good. I feel like I’ve come a long way, and I feel like I’m ready to tackle stuff as it comes up without the safety net of therapy being there to catch me.”

“You definitely have come a long way,” Liam says. “I’m proud of you Harriet for not giving up on the darkest days when it was really tough and for coming out of the other side a stronger version of yourself.”

“Thanks,” I say, blushing and giving Liam a shy smile.

He reaches out and takes my hand in his and squeezes it.

“Do you want to know what your surprise is?” Liam asks.

“Yes,” I say. “But me first.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. I grin, then pick the box back up off the floor, and hold it out to him. He takes it from me.

“Thank you,” he says. “What is it?”

“Open it and see,” I say with a laugh. “It’s not much, just… well you’ll see. I hope you like it.”

I’m getting nervous now that it’s time for Liam to actually see the sculpture I made for him. Is it lame? What if he hates it? What if he thinks it looks like a fourth-grader's art project? Oh God, what if he laughs?

He opens the box and peers inside. He does none of those things of course, because even if he hated the sculpture, he’s way too nice to say that. I can see on his face that he does like it though. He is smiling as he pulls it out of the box and he turns it this way and that, running his fingers over it. He spots the inscription and reads it out loud.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is amazing.”

“It’s nothing,” I say. “Just a little something to say thank you for putting up with me.”

“It’s so not nothing,” Liam insists. “You took the time to make me something so personal. That means so much more to me than you’ll ever know.”

He stands up and looks around the room for a moment and then he goes to his bookshelf. The shelves are mostly filled with books, but in some parts of the shelves, he has decorative pieces. He grabs a small blue and white vase and removes it from its shelf, and he puts my piece where it came from. It is in pride of place, right in the center of the shelving unit. He stands back and nods.

“Perfect,” he says.

He comes and sits back down beside me, putting the vase on the coffee table for now, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the sculpture sitting on the shelving unit. And he keeps smiling the whole time he looks at it. I am so relieved that he likes it.

“I was worried you would think it was lame,” I admit.

“What? No way,” he says, shaking his head. “Aside from the fact that you put thought and time and heart into this, I don’t think you really appreciate just how good of a sculptor you are.”

I shrug my shoulders. My pieces are passable, and my sales are proof of that, but I think Liam is just being nice saying that they are better than that.

“I guess modesty is better than you being all big-headed about it,” Liam says with a laugh at my shrug. “Right. My surprise to you. I feel like it’s going to be a disappointment after yours.”

“It won’t be,” I say.

Liam has never given me a surprise that was a disappointment yet and I can’t see him starting now. However, a different kind of disappointment washes over me when his cell phone starts to ring before he can say anything else or show me what the surprise is. He pulls the cell phone out of his jeans pocket and looks at the screen.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s the project manager from the new hotel. I have to take this.”

I nod. I know he has to take the call and I don’t want to be one of those women who whine about their man working. Especially not considering it is technically part of the working week. Liam said he would work from home today to see me after my last therapy session. It’s not like work is calling him through dinner or on a Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning. But it’s not like all those things haven’t all happened over these last few months either.

“Liam Monroe,” Liam says as he takes his call. He moves toward the door to the living room and leaves the room. I hear him saying yes. Then yes again. Then fuck. And then his home office door, or at least a door that I assume to be his home office door, closes with a slam and I don’t hear anything else. He’s back in a few minutes and I know before he speaks that he has to go to the hotel.

“I’m so sorry Harriet. The new toilets have arrived for the rooms. All four hundred and sixty-five of them. And they are all the wrong model,” he says. I look at him, sure the shock is showing on my face. How are companies so bad that they can get such a big order wrong? You would think they’d have quality checks in place, especially for orders of that size. “Obviously the project manager has been talking to the supplier, but he’s insisting that’s what we ordered despite the project manager having the paperwork that proves differently. I’m going to have to go over to the supplier’s place and get this sorted out before it causes too much of a delay.”

“Yes, of course, go,” I say. “Give them hell.”

Liam smiles and shakes his head. “You’re so understanding,” he says.

“Yeah, you got really lucky, and don’t you forget it,” I say with a laugh.

“I won’t,” Liam says.

He comes over to me and kisses the top of my head and grabs his keys from the coffee table.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, ok?” he says.

“Ok, see you soon,” I say.

He’s almost at the front door when I decide I might as well do some work on my website while he’s gone.

“Liam?” I ask. He turns back. “Can I use your laptop while you’re gone, please?”

“Sure,” he says. “It’s in my home office. It’s charging so if you want to bring it out here, you’ll have to plug it in.”

“Ok, thanks,” I say. “See you soon.”

“Yep, you sure will,” Liam replies and then he’s gone and it’s just me on my own in his apartment once again.

I get up and cross the living room and go down the long corridor there, right to the end, past the bedrooms and everything. I remember asking Liam why his home office was as far away as he could get it from the rest of his living space.

It made sense to me that his bedroom and bathroom might come first, but why the guest rooms and the linen closet too? He explained that he works a lot of hours and in the times when he isn’t working, he doesn’t want to have to pass his home office on his way from one room to another. When he’s done with work, he wants to be able to shut that door and just pretend like the home office doesn’t exist. I guess it makes a certain kind of twisted sense.

I’m smiling to myself at Liam’s logic about the home office as I come to the door. I open it and step inside. I debate unplugging the laptop and taking it through to the living room, but if I do that, I’ll have to sit at the dining table in order for the wire to reach an electrical outlet with the charger, so I decide that I might as well just stay here. Liam’s office chair actually looks comfier than his dining chairs so why the hell not.