Found (Lost and Found #2, New Adult Romance) (Lost & Found) (17 page)

Maria

I
squeeze Owen’s hand as we once again wait in the stupidly uncomfortable chairs of the university’s health center. It’s a different sort of visit from our last two trips, though. There are no bones to fix this time—only minds and souls. We’re here for counseling.

“Are you scared?” I whisper to him. It seems like a stupid question from the moment the words leave my lips. We’re about to bare our secrets to complete strangers. Of
course
he’s scared. I’m scared too. I’m absolutely terrified to do this, but after what happened last night, it has to be done. We have to get help.

“I’m really nervous,” he whispers back, gently stroking the back of my hand and tapping his feet nervously. I can’t tell if he’s trying to calm himself or me, but I don’t think either one is working.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “It’s a first step, and we have to take it.”

“I just wish we could take it together,” he says, his voice low and full of fear.

I lean my head on his shoulder and ignore the sharp, metal armrests digging into my ribs. I can hear his heart pounding, and I suddenly feel terrible for him. I wish I could go in with him and hold his hand through his first session, but I can’t do that.

I’m part of the problem. We both are.

Owen and I may have found ourselves in each other, but we need to be complete on our own before we can be complete together.

“Number eleven?” calls out the receptionist, and we both glance down at our tickets. It’s Owen’s number; they’re making sure they don’t give away the names of students here for counseling, not even to other people in the waiting room.

He casts me a nervous smile, releases my hand and then cautiously approaches the reception window. After a few minutes of paperwork, a door to the right opens and his counselor comes out to meet him.

“Whenever you’re done with the paperwork, just come straight through here and we can get started,” she tells him.

I can’t help but smile at the sight of her. His counselor is a middle-aged, motherly looking woman with a kind smile and a soft voice. I just
know
she’ll be a wonderful fit for him. He follows her to the door, all the while chatting like they’re old friends, but then he stops at the threshold and looks back at me. He’s so nervous.

I leap up, run to him and hug him tightly. He’s scared to take the first step, and I understand what he’s feeling. There’s so much inside him that he’s hidden away over the years and now it’s all going to come out. He’s scared of having to face it again. I want to squeeze all the fear out of him like a sponge and let him go into his first counseling session feeling fresh and new.

“You going to be okay, sweetie?” he whispers in my ear, and he kisses me on the cheek.

I see a different sort of fear in his eyes now—a fear not of his own first step but of mine. He’s right, too... I am scared. I’m terrified to take this step, but I know that I’ll never heal unless I do.

“I love you so much, sweetie,” I whisper in his ear and I press my cheek softly to his. “Don’t worry about me. I promise you I’ll be okay.”

He squeezes me tightly, and I bask in the warmth of his body as he holds me for just a moment longer before we finally separate.

“See you in an hour?” he asks, and I smile nervously back at him. It’s going to be a very difficult hour for both of us.

He follows his counselor down the door and it closes behind him. I return to my seat and wait nervously for my number to come up. Our numbers were sequential, so it’ll be any moment now. I catch myself nervously tapping my feet, but I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it.

Five minutes later, they call my number. Butterflies flap around inside me and my palms sweat as I hurry up to the receptionist. My legs feel weak from fear and I prop myself up against the counter for just in case they decide to give out on me and humiliate me in front of everyone else in the waiting room.

The receptionist flashes me a friendly smile and hands me a stapled packet of paperwork.

“Could you please just check through all of this and make sure it’s correct?” she asks in a quiet, safe voice. “We want to make sure we have the right event recorded for you and get everything off to a good start.”

It takes me a moment to decipher her words, but they finally click together in my brain. It’s more privacy protection; ‘event’ is talking about what happened to me. There it is on the sheet, too...
rape counseling
.

I scan over the paperwork to make sure it’s all correct, swallow hard and slide the packet back through the window.

“It’s all correct.”

“Okay, thank you. We’ll call you up soon and the counselor will explain the process to you from there.”

The receptionist’s eyes are friendly and nonjudgmental, as if she truly isn’t judging my worth or forming opinions about me based on what happened. How many horror stories has she seen while working here? How many times has she seen women come in here, broken women like me, women with even
worse
stories than mine?

No. I can’t think like that anymore. I need to turn over a new leaf if I’m going to heal.

How many women’s recoveries has she witnessed? How many wonderful success stories has she watched walk out that door?

“Number sixteen?” calls out a young-sounding voice from behind me, and I spin around to meet my counselor.

“Hi, my name is Corinne,” she greets me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

My counselor is a very thin young woman who’s almost a foot shorter than me. She has green eyes like mine, more freckles than not, and fiery red hair tied into a ponytail by an oversized yellow ribbon. Is she
really
my counselor? Is she a trainee? She can’t possibly be any older than thirty. How is someone as young as her supposed to help me?

She catches me staring at her, and she winks and smiles knowingly.

“It’s not about how old your counselor is—it’s about how you connect with her,” she tells me in a low, serene purr.

“Sorry,” I apologize, feeling my face turn as red as her hair. “I was just surprised. I didn’t expect... well, you know. Someone so young.”

“Different people heal in different ways,” she whispers back to me. “For me, becoming a counselor and helping others was the step I needed. It was my missing piece.”

I stare back at her wide-eyed and speechless as all the doors separating us open wide and our secrets are thrown into the light. How many people have been hurt like I was? Maybe Owen and I aren’t exceptions at all—maybe there are lots of people like us. I don’t know whether to be excited or horrified at the thought.

What I do know is that I can connect with her. I can really do this.

“Are you ready?” she asks, beckoning me toward the long hallway.

I nod and follow behind her. Her ponytail sways slowly back and forth behind her like a pendulum as we walk down the hall. It feels as if the lights are getting brighter around me with each step I take. Looking back over my shoulder, the waiting room seems almost pitch-black against the gleaming white of the counseling area.

At the end of the hall, Corinne opens a door and holds it open for me. I take one last look over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and then step over the threshold with as much confidence as I can muster. Somewhere close by, Owen’s taking the step he needs to be complete again, and now it’s time for me to take mine.

“You’re going to be okay now,” whispers Corinne, and she closes the door behind us.

Owen

I
finish grading the assignment I’m working on and sigh as I move onto the next one. I have two hours until it’s time to teach my class, and after my disastrous weekend, I need to catch up on my work.

Not that it matters too much anymore... I still don’t have anywhere to go once school ends. I need to figure out what happens next—what happens once I finish my M.S and lose my stipend. Maybe Craig will let me crash with him until I can find a job or another program accepts me. I have no idea.

I also need to figure out what to do about counseling. Maria was right; I need to keep doing it. Just being there this morning and talking to my counselor Angela made me feel less strung-out and overwhelmed. Not that one session is much to judge by, but it’s a start. I have no idea how I’ll afford to go once my student health insurance ends, but I need to find a way.

Soon the second assignment is graded, and it’s time to work on something else for a bit—something more pressing to me. I pull out the letter and re-read what I’ve written so far.

Dear Maria,

I have no idea how to thank you for what you did last night. It was...

That’s it. That’s all I have. It sounds like hyperbole but I truly
don’t
know how to thank her. Never in my life have I felt like I did last night at the bridge, staring down into the darkness below and begging it to swallow me. The feeling scares me now. I was so close to giving in and taking that last step.

I scribble out the last two words and start writing.

I run out of words again and put the letter aside. It’s going to take a long time to write it, but I want it to be perfect. Maria saved my life. She deserves perfection and instead she somehow got stuck with me.

I put the letter into my backpack and move on to the next homework assignment. Only forty pages to go. Halfway through the page, my phone rings. It’s Professor Meador. He probably has more homework for me to grade.

“Owen? Got a second to talk?” he asks.

“Sure. Just grading your papers anyway.”

“The homework can wait,” he says for the first time in recorded history. “We need to talk about your doctoral application.”

“Do you mean the first one they rejected or the second one?” I ask bitterly.

“Neither. I mean the third one that you haven’t, technically, submitted yet.”

“I... wait, what are you talking about?” I ask in confusion. “Why would I apply again? They’re not going to accept me. It’s stupid to keep wasting money on application fees when the school’s just going to...”

“Owen, do you remember what you scored on your graduate admissions exam back when you first applied to be my student?” he asks, interrupting me.

“I never saw the scores,” I answer. “They were sent to my parents’ house.”

“You had a 332,” he tells me, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. “You know how good a score that is, right? If it wasn’t for Cornell’s ridiculous leave policy, you’d be picking your doctoral lab right now instead of going home to change into your best suit.”

“My best suit? What are you talking about?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about anymore, and I don’t
have
a best suit. I own one suit and it’s from a second-hand store.

“Go change and then come meet me at my office,” he instructs me. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“A dear colleague of mine is waiting here in my office, and he’s very excited to meet you.”

I leap up from my chair and shove the pile of homework assignments into my backpack.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you so much!”

I don’t know who he’s talking about nor how he’s found a way around Cornell’s grade policy, but I’m grateful beyond words for him trying to help me.

“I told you I take care of my students, and I meant it,” he answers, and then he hangs up.

I race through the deserted library stacks, down the clattering metal stairwell, and out the front door toward my apartment. I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to go find my suit.

Maria

“M
aria!” screams Tina at the top of her lungs from downstairs. “Oh my god, Maria! They actually accepted me!”

“Hang on just a second,” I call back to her as I lay on the carpet in my bedroom. “I’ll be right down.”

I need to finish this entry first.

The last line of the entry reads,
“What did he do to me?” I mouth silently as I hide in the stall. “What the hell did Darren do to me?”

I draw a line below it, take a deep breath and begin writing the new and important part of the entry on the next line.

The final entry is finished. I close the book and let out a long sigh of relief.

My counselor, Corinne, was right. It’s as if an impossibly heavy burden has been removed, as if I’m not being crushed by the memories anymore. All these years, the notebook wasn’t helping me at all. It’s been nothing but a chain around my neck, dragging me down as the nightmares hidden away inside it grew heavier and heavier.

Corinne told me to finish the book—to go back and give every nightmare a happy conclusion. She said that if I gave them good endings, it’d help me believe in closure. I need to convince myself that the nightmares truly
are
over so that I can move on.

My last nightmare is closed and the book is complete. Somehow, I’m going to make it past what Darren did to me. I’ve found a new, better life and someone special to share it with. I’m going to get better now. I
have
to, not just for myself but also for Owen.

I lift the pillow to hide the notebook again but then stop myself. I’m so sick of keeping it a secret, of living in fear that somebody might find out what happened to me. I leave it on my desk instead and then run downstairs to find Tina.

––––––––

“M
aria!” she squeals as she dances around the living room. “The vet school accepted me! They actually let me in!”

She waves an enormous white envelope at me and nearly smacks me in the face with it in her excitement. I dodge the envelope and hug her.

“Congratulations! That’s fantastic,” I tell her. She wriggles out of my embrace and continues her gleeful dance around the apartment.

“Oh you have no idea. I’m so fucking excited I could puke,” she babbles happily. I never exactly associated excitement with puking, but I’ll take her word for it.

She tosses the acceptance mailer on the dining room table and does a joyful pirouette, pointing a finger at me as she comes out of her spin.

“I want to celebrate, so be home by seven o’clock on Friday,” she tells me, “or you’re going to miss all the fun.”

“What’re you planning?” I ask as her contagious exuberance paints a smile on my face.

“Cake and motherfucking
champagne
, ladyface!” she answers. “Be there or be punched. Just saying.”

“Oh, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good—I didn’t want to punch you anyway,” she says. “I’d do it today but I have to go apartment hunting with Craig since he’s too stupid to do it on his own. Remember that job offer he got downtown? He accepted it.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” I gush excitedly. “Are you looking for an apartment near his, then? If I get into my graduate program, do you need a roommate?”

She blushes, smiles and shakes her head. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tina blush like that before.

This can only mean one thing...

“Oh my god, you two are
moving in together
?” I gasp, covering my mouth to hide my delighted smile.

If it were anyone else, I’d be calling her crazy. Tina, though? If there’s anyone on earth who knows what she’s doing, it’s her. She can definitely take care of herself.

“We’re checking out some three-bedroom apartments downtown,” she says. “One room for him, one room for me...”

“Right, like I believe that,” I interrupt her, rolling my eyes. “And who’s the third one for? The Holy Spirit?”

“My mother.”

I’m stunned.

All I can do is stare wide-eyed at her like a fool with my mouth hanging open. She hasn’t talked to her mother in
years
—not since her mother’s dementia progressed to the point where she forgot her own daughter. I can’t believe it.

“Your
mother
?” I repeat. “But I thought...Tina,
why?
”

“She can’t take care of herself anymore,” explains Tina. “Her long-term care insurance covers most of her bills, and it’ll pay for
anyone
to be the primary care-givers, even family members. Craig and I are going to take care of her as best we can until we can find a nice place in Ithaca for her.”

“But...”

“It’s going to be really hard,” she interrupts, “but she’s my mother, Maria. I have to take care of her. Craig says he’s okay with it so we’re going to move her up here with us.”

She smiles nervously and then adds, “I really miss her.”

Before she can say anything else, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around her.

“You are incredible, Tina,” I whisper in her ear as I hug her as hard as I can.

“Quit squeezing the air out of me, you big dope,” she wheezes, smiling widely as her face practically glows with happiness. I kiss her on the forehead and then let her breathe again.

“I’m proud of you, Tina. I really am.”

She smiles and waves goodbye as she heads for the door, but then she suddenly spins on her heels and hurries back to me.

“Almost forgot—you’ve got mail, dopeface. Here you go.”

She hands me two white business envelopes before racing out the door, and my heart skips a beat as I read the return addresses. One is from Cornell University Admissions and the other is from Verta Human Resources. They’re such thin envelopes... did they both reject me?

I nervously rip open the envelope from Cornell and pull out the letter inside.

Yes!
They accepted me!

The letter outlines all the basic information about my acceptance—my meager stipend, my laboratory rotation and work schedules, all the usual goodies—along with a pre-paid response mailer to accept the offer. All I have to do is sign the card and toss it in the mail.

I’ll get to be with Owen all through graduate school! I suddenly understand what Tina was feeling when she opened her acceptance packet—I feel like skipping around the dining room from sheer delight.

Before I start celebrating, though, I should open the other envelope.

I rip open the letter from Verta gasp as I see the salary printed in the middle of the page. They’re offering me a job and it’s the best offer I’ve ever seen. I never, ever expected an offer like this. Based on my publication history, they’ve skipped right over the entry-level positions and thrown me right into the doctoral starting ranks.

My head swims as I stare at the number. It’s more than double what I’d hoped for.

Now what do I do?

I could stay here at Cornell, get my PhD and stay with Owen. I know he’s going to get in, even if the university claims it’s rejecting him. The idea of flunking him because he dared to go see his mother on her deathbed is just too insane and I know his advisor will work something out with the school. I just know it.

The Verta offer in Boston is my dream job, but if I take it, I’ll be apart from Owen for
years
. I’ll be able to visit him on weekends and vacations, but it’ll be so hard to be away from him. I don’t know if I can bear being so far apart. I need him in my life.
God
, I need him.

Will I ever get a job offer like this again, though? Companies just don’t
do
this. A biologist with only a bachelor’s degree
never
gets an offer like this one. I’ll probably never see another one like it.

Cornell? Verta? Which one do I pick? I can’t let anyone else sway me or I’ll always question the decision. I have to pick this for myself.

I want to call Owen. I should call him and get his input.

“
No,
” I think. “
This decision has to be mine
.”

I can’t let him sway what I decide. If I make the wrong decision, I might hold it against him. I don’t trust myself not to do that.

My hands are shaking so much that I can barely get my acceptance response into its envelope. This is the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I hurry downstairs and out the front door. It’s a beautiful, sunny day and the birds are chirping, but I’m too caught up in the decision to really pay them any attention today. I jog to the mailbox and throw my acceptance in before the decision gets any more difficult, before I start second-guessing myself. I have to do this.

I yank my phone out of the side-pocket of my backpack and dial Owen’s number, and my call goes straight to his voicemail. I forgot that he has office-hours right after he teaches his statistics course. He’s turned his phone off.

“Hi sweetie,” I sweet-talk to his voicemail at the beep. “I really need to talk to you. Call me back when you get this, okay? Love you.”

I hang up the phone and plop down on the concrete next to the mailbox as my anxious, trembling legs give out on me. I had to do it. I’m second-guessing myself already, but I had to do it.

I accepted the job offer in Boston and it’s going to kill Owen when I tell him.