Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
A sense of pride washed over me as I glanced over at my mother, who had insisted on coming with me to my visit today. She was finally cleared to resume normal activities and she’d leapt at the opportunity to spend some one-on-one time with me.
“Have you been experiencing any issues?” he asked, sitting my chart down on the counter next to him. “Fatigue? Pain?”
I swallowed hard, the instinct to lie front and center. It was so ingrained in me to push my feelings to the side, to hide any real emotion for fear of being ridiculed, but I managed to work past it.
“Only when I forget to eat or I overwork myself,” I said, and the doctor nodded.
“That’s normal,” he said. “You’ve got to keep yourself fueled,” he continued. “Low sodium, lean proteins, high fiber.”
“All the good stuff,” I said, smiling at him. “Got it.”
He chuckled. “You can treat yourself,” he said. “It’s all about moderation. We just want to keep your blood sugars in check. Listening to your body is key.”
“I understand,” I said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you in a couple weeks,” he said, heading toward the door. “You’re looking incredibly well, Mrs. VanDoren,” he said on his way out.
Mom grinned at me, following me out of the room and back to my car parked in the lot.
“I’m so proud of you, Andromeda,” she said as she buckled herself into the passenger seat. She could’ve easily had one of the drivers take us to this appointment, but I’d asked if I could pick her up.
I was now used to paying for it on my own, and there was something satisfying about using what I’d been working so hard for. It was the same with my small but cozy apartment—I found myself taking better care with it now that I worked my butt off to live in it.
It was a humbling, eye-opening experience that I found myself wishing I’d had years ago. But hearing my mother say those words? It was hard to speak around the way my heart expanded in my chest.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, trying not to cry. Sweet heavens, it felt like that’s all I’d been doing lately, either from happiness or digging up the past. I was going to have to buy tissues on bulk for Dr. Casson if we kept this up. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
The sky was a slate gray with an overcast of clouds, the promise of a winter rain on the horizon as I navigated the road toward her house.
Her house, not mine. That was another clarification I’d made after this whole situation. Father may have kicked me out and forced me to stand on my own, but in doing so, he made me realize that the house I grew up in hardly felt like a home. Not at the fault of my mother or my sister, of course, but mainly because of me. I’d never been comfortable there, and working through my past, I realized there were few places I’d felt safe and comfortable enough to be just me.
One of those places was anywhere Jim was.
Heat stole through my veins at the memory of last night, and the night before that, and the night before that…
Heaven help me, it had been a week of taking it one-day-at-a-time with Jim, and if I wasn’t at his house, he was at mine. We worked together, slept together, ate meals and binge-watched shows together. It was a new, settled, wonderful kind of life I wasn’t sure I deserved, but I was damn sure working on being worthy of it.
“Really,” Mom said as I made my way up the drive to the house, parking the car so I could get out and hug her. “I think you’re doing so well,” she continued as I rounded the car and wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve always been proud of you,” she said as I released her. “I just didn’t think you were living your best life.”
My chest tightened, but I accepted the strain of her bringing up my past, and nodded. “I wasn’t,” I said. “And I’m really sorry what I put you through. What I put you all through,” I said, glancing at the house like that would encompass my sister and father too.
I’d apologized to Mom a dozen times already, and she’d graciously accepted those apologies, but I doubted there would be a time I’d feel like I was done apologizing. I’d made a lot of mistakes with her, but we were growing past that, and it meant the world to me.
“I told you it’s in the past, honey,” she said, waving me off. “What matters now is you’re taking care of yourself. You’re healthy and clear and I love having my daughter back.”
Her words sank into my heart, filling me with hope. “I’m going to keep working at it, every single day.”