Book two
Rhegan Clarke:
A girl who has everything but struggles
to grasp the one thing she truly wants.
" I miss you and I love you so fucking much that it hurts. But it hurts even more to be without you. It hurts that I pushed you away because of...
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Rhegan
I had been sitting on my ass for three weeks now, wallowing in a post break-up depression.
I spent my days wallowing in self-pity, eating my feelings in pistachio ice cream, twinkies, and New York style pizza– with ranch. My best friend at the moment came in the form of Dr. Pepper and a queasy feeling from eating nothing but junk food.
Ever since my encounter with my mother, I was in an even deeper funk. All of the childhood memories that I had created with my mother and father when we were together, a happy and complete family rushed to the surface, unlocking everything that I had spent so many years suppressing and trying to forget. Sometimes, if I sat in silence for too long, I could swear that I could hear the happy laughter of the three of us haunting me.
And since I had yet to extend the invitation to therapy to her– I hadn't been back.
Time was ticking and I feared that my therapist would fire me as her patient if I didn't follow through with her request. She'd hit me with that " help me, help you" bullshit before leaving our last session.
Hello– if I wanted to help myself, I wouldn't be paying you to help me figure out my shit.
Of course, that came after I threatened to fire her for her grand and ridiculously outrageous idea of hers. Which, she soon would regret after seeing the chaos that came with me and my mother being in the same room. I swear that I turned into a different person in that woman's presence.
I tended to be a bit of a disrespectful bitch.
While getting out of the shower last night and preparing myself for bed, I noticed that my naturally sunkissed skin was now unusually pale and nearly fainted. Before going to sleep last night, I had surfed the internet for reviews on the best and most pain inducing pilates class last night– forcing myself to get out of the house and do things other than attend therapy.
So here I was, pulling a sweatband over my hair because it was now too short to pull back into a ponytail without strands hanging in my face. After throwing an oversized grey hoodie over my newest workout set, courtesy of my latest self-pity induced online shopping fit, I grabbed my house keys, purse, and water bottle before heading downstairs.
" You're up early," my father pointed out, surprised to see me up and dressed before noon. " And dressed. Going somewhere?"
" Pilates," I informed him as I grabbed a piece of wheat bread, a banana, and the almond butter, making myself a quick snack before heading out. I made the mistake of not putting substance in my body before a workout and nearly fainted– I was never making that mistake again.
While my bread was in the toaster, I fixed myself a glass of pre-workout. " I'm getting pale," I stress with a small pout. " If I don't get out of the house, I'll turn into Casper."
My father belted out a throaty laugh as he stood up, putting his dishes in the sink to rinse. " I'm free today. Would you like to go out for lunch after your workout? I'll make reservations for Scarpetta, your favorite."
