Chapter 15: The First Time She Said It Out Loud
1363 Words
The ankle brace stayed on for five days.
Craig bitched about it every day.
“I feel like eighty.”
Becca chuckled as she filled two coffee mugs.
“You couldn’t walk normally for three days.”
“I did not limp.”
“You definitely did.”
“I was careful.”
“The doctor told you to take it easy.”
“I was taking it easy.”
She pushed his mug toward him.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“So, I hear.”
The youngest walked into the kitchen right as Becca spoke her last line.
“I heard you complaining to Nugget yesterday.”
Craig’s face fell, offended.
“I was not complaining!”
“You whined that your foot hurt.”
“I was informing her.”
Thoughtfully, the youngest nodded.
“Oh.”
“She sounded worried.”
Becca rolled her eyes with a chuckle.
“You talk to chickens now?”
Craig shrugged.
“They’re great listeners.”
A Quiet Invitation
Traffic at the bakery died down Tuesday afternoon.
Linda pulled a tray of oatmeal cookies out of the oven just as Sarah approached.
She wasn’t here to grab coffee.
She was here for Becca.
“You have a minute?”
Becca glanced at Linda.
“You guys good?”
Linda pointed Sarah toward the break room.
“Shepherd.”
“You got it.”
“You got coffee.”
Sarah set a cup of tea in front of Becca instead.
“I thought you might need something soothing.”
Becca smiled.
“You could tell?”
“Half.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Sarah spoke up again.
“You’ve come so far.”
“I know.”
“But…”
Becca let out a long breath.
“I still get scared sometimes.”
Sarah nodded understandingly.
“I know you do.”
“I hate that.”
Sarah c****d her head to the side.
“Why?”
“I feel like I should be past it.”
The counselor leaned back in her chair.
“Rebecca…” She paused.
“When you broke your wrist at age sixteen…”
Becca frowned, confused.
“What?”
“You broke your wrist when you were sixteen.”
“The playground,” She finished for Sarah.
“And you…” She glanced down at her injured ankle.
Sarah smiled softly.
“Wore a cast for six weeks.”
“That’s what they said.”
“When you took the cast off…” She paused again.
Becca knew where this was going.
“Was your wrist as strong as it was before right away?”
Shaking her head now, Becca responded.
“No.”
“It took time to heal.”
Sarah nodded.
“The same thing is happening now.”
The Counselor’s Card
Quietly sliding her business card across the table, Sarah waited for Becca to look down.
It was a card for a licensed trauma counselor.
Becca didn’t pick it up.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me.”
Sarah placed her palm over Becca’s hand on the table.
“I don’t think so either.”
“But why…” Becca began.
Sarah leaned back in her chair.
“Because sometimes healing is a process that doesn’t end when the physical injuries do.”
Becca stared down at the card before her.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Call her. I mean…”
Sarah smiled.
“Not today. Maybe not tomorrow.”
“But keep the card.”
Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out another business card. Writing her own number at the bottom, she slid it across the table.
“Here. For when you are.”
The Ride Home
The card remained in Becca’s purse for the rest of the day.
Every time she reached for her keys or her phone, she could feel it pushing against the underside of the flap.
She wasn’t afraid to seek counseling.
She was afraid of what she’d discover if she did.
When she arrived home, Craig was outside fixing the latch on the chicken coop.
Beside him, Nugget stood three feet away, staring intently at the screws.
Watching them both like proud parents, the youngest said,
“She’s quality control.”
Craig nodded.
“She’s holding you to perfection standards.”
“She thinks you’re doing it wrong.”
Becca stood at the fence, watching her family.
Craig looked up at her suddenly.
“Everything okay back there?”
She nodded, before catching herself.
“No.”
He put the screwdriver down.
“What’s up?” He asked gently.
Instead of answering, she whipped out the business card Sarah had given her.
“I went to counseling today.”
Craig didn’t reply. He simply studied the card.
“What do you think?” She asked softly.
No Pressure
Carefully reading the card before handing it back to her, Craig said,
“I think Sarah loves you.”
“I know.”
“I think she sees how hard you’ve fought for your kids.”
“I know I have.”
“And…”
He smiled softly.
“I don’t think asking for help is an admission of defeat.”
Becca looked up at him.
“You really think so?”
“Yeah.”
She paused.
“What if bad things come back to haunt me?”
Moving closer to her, Craig leaned against the fence next to her.
“What if they do?”
She looked away, staring at her boots.
“I can’t deal with that.”
He was quiet for a few seconds.
Slowly, he said,
“You won’t have to deal with it alone.”
Becca frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“You went through that…” He looked out toward the chicken coop.
alone. By yourself.”
He turned to look Becca in the eyes.
“This time… you’ll have people to help you heal.”
A Small Step
That night, after dinner and cleaning up, Becca sat alone on the swing on their back porch.
It was quiet.
The kids were doing homework in the other room.
The chickens had long since retired for the night.
She pulled out the counselor’s card again.
Staring at the phone number for several long minutes, she took a deep breath and dialed.
Her call went to voicemail.
Leaving her calm and collected, the automated voice told her she could leave her name and number.
Her heart began to race.
She wanted to hang up.
Instead, she heard herself say,
“Hi… My name is Rebecca Johnston.”
She paused, unsure what to say next.
“I’m calling because… um…I would like to set up an appointment to see you.”
Again, she paused, fighting back tears.
“Please. Call me back.”
She hung up.
The First Time
Knocking softly on the screen door behind her a few minutes later, Craig motioned for her to join him on the porch swing.
Sitting down beside her, he didn’t say anything.
She didn’t say anything.
After sitting in silence for a few minutes, she quietly whispered,
“I did it.”
Smiling down at her, he said,
“You did?” He nodded towards her empty hand.
“I made the call.” She gave him a weak smile.
“I’m proud of you.” He reached for her hand.
“You have no idea.” Sniffling, she wiped at her eyes.
“I’ve never asked you this before, but are you happy?”
Becca looked out across her backyard, taking it all in.
The little red door at the end of her porch light.
The field of daisies gently blowing in the wind.
She thought about the broken girl she once was.
How afraid she used to be to ask for help.
Scared someone would discover she wasn’t as strong as she tried to appear.
If she could go back, she’d tell that young woman one thing.
Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…
It’s learning to dance in the rain.
- Writer
