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I felt a pang of anger on her behalf but kept my
voice calm. “I’m sorry you’ve felt so unsupported.
That’s not fair to you.”
She blinked rapidly, as if trying to hold back
tears. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I feel
like I’m drowning in my own life.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected.
Memories of the children’s home surfaced
unbidden: Emily’s defiant smile, her determination
to protect those she cared about, even when she
was barely holding herself together.
“You know,” I said carefully, choosing my
words. “When you’re caught in a riptide, the key isn’t to fight it head–on. You swim parallel to the shore until you find your way back.”
Emily’s brow furrowed, and she tilted her head slightly. “That’s… familiar,” she said slowly. A small,
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wistful smile played at her lips. “It reminds me of
something a friend once told me, a long time ago.”
I held her gaze for a moment, my heart.
pounding, but I didn’t push further. It wasn’t the
right time.
“It’s a good reminder,” I said simply.
“Sometimes the hardest thing is finding the shore.
again, but it’s always there.”
She nodded, her expression softening. For the
first time since she’d entered, she seemed to relax
slightly.
The session continued with her opening up
more about her struggles, though she avoided
delving too deeply into her marriage and her
reunification with her mother. I didn’t press her.
Building trust was more important than dissecting
every detail of her life right now.
After she left, I sat alone in my office, replaying
the conversation in my mind
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the conversation in my mind.
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I was ten years old when I last saw Emily at the
children’s home. We had been inseparable, two lost
souls finding comfort in each other’s presence.
When my biological parents came for me, I had
clung to the promise we made: to meet at the home
once a year.
For three years, I returned, my heart pounding with anticipation each time. But during the third
year, Emily wasn’t there. A caretaker handed me a letter she’d written, explaining she’d been adopted by a family out of state. I never read it. My parents had destroyed it before I could.
I stopped going after that. The promise had felt like a lifeline once, but now it was just a reminder of what I had lost.
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Seeing Emily again all these years later,
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struggling and adrift, had stirred something in me.
The girl I remembered had been strong, determined.
She had faced every challenge with a fire that
inspired me to do the same. Now, it seemed like that
fire had been all but extinguished.
Over the next couple weeks, Emily continued
her sessions, slowly peeling back the layers of her
pain. I listened carefully, offering advice when
appropriate, but mostly just giving her the space to
speak freely.
One afternoon, after a particularly emotional session, I decided to look into something that had been gnawing at the back of my mind.
I had seen Maya before–of that, I was certain. The woman had been with my father once, years ago, and something about the way they interacted had left me uneasy. Now, with everything Emily had told me, I couldn’t ignore the possibility that Maya might be connected to my family in a way neither of
might be connected to my family in a way neither of
us could have anticipated.
For now, I would focus on helping Emily regain
her strength. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that
our paths had crossed again for a reason. And this time, I wouldn’t let her slip away.
