Page 16 of Just Ten Seconds

Her gaze is steady on mine as I slowly blink, trying to figure out how I made it this far into the room.

I swallow hard, and suddenly, I have a severe case of cotton mouth. My eyes bug out in my head with the attention she is sending my way. I place a hand up to my cheek in an attempt to hide, which is useless because I am literally standing here for all to see.

She waves me in. “Come, this is a safe space. We’re family here.”

I hold a hand up in protest. “No. I’m not … I mean”—I thumb toward the door—“I was just …” Just what? Eavesdropping on someone’s sad conversation? “I don’t belong in here.”

“Have you lost someone you loved?” she asks with her hands clasped in front of her in prayer.

“Yes,” I whisper, surprising myself as the word slips through my lips.

She stands and holds her hands out to me, drawing me closer to the circle. “My name is Tracey. Have a seat. You can speak or simply listen. There’s no rush to share.”

The tone of her voice provides a warmth and comfort with every syllable. It calls to me. I should leave, but my feet won’t move backward. Instead, I find them slowly inching forward, almost with a mind of their own.

I take a seat on one of the metal folding chairs in the front row. Needing something to do with the nervous energy I’m feeling, I pull my sweater sleeves over my hands and fiddle with the hem. I look up to see the red-haired girl smiling at me as she sits just two seats over to my right. The seat between us is vacant.

“I’m Lauren,” she says, extending her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Joey.”

I blink at her a few times in utter confusion. She lets out a laugh, which is followed by a few other chuckles in the room.

“We had the same reaction,” a heavyset man on the other side of me bellows with a grin. “I’m Kevin.”

I give him a little wave and turn my attention back to Lauren, who is now leaning into Joey.

“Lauren and I met last year. It was love at first sight.” Joey extends a hand. I shake it as he explains, “She put the moves on me big time. Tried to take me back to her house, but I’m a gentleman.”

She playfully elbows him in the waist. “He’s been coming with me to these meetings to help me move on from the past, so we can focus on our future. Tracey is an angel sent from heaven. Her group helped me realize that there is love after loss.”

I give them a side-eye with a half-smile. As sweet as it is, it all seems a little too cheery. Like a Hallmark movie, except without the Christmas trees and LeAnn Rimes.

“What is your name?” Tracey asks me.

I pull harder on my sleeve and tuck it into my fist. “Mara.”

“Who did you lose?” Lauren asks sincerely.

Tracey is quick to add, “You don’t need to share. This is an atmosphere of willing participation. Your right to quiet contemplation will be respected by the group.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s okay. I, um …” Wow, am I really doing this? “His name is Benjamin, and he was my husband.”

My shoulders are awfully tense. I can feel them practically hugging my ears. From where I’m seated, I can only see Lauren, Joey, Kevin, and Tracey. I know there are others in the room, but they’re behind me. I keep my focus steady on my sleeves and the way my fingers are stretching out the material.

“We were married for four years when it all just ended.” I’ve never been to group therapy, and I’m not really sure what the protocol is. I bite my lip and then continue, “He had this great habit of buying my favorite candy every time he passed a newsstand, which, as anyone who’s been to the city knows, means I got my chocolate fix daily because there are newsstands on every corner.” I twiddle my fingers in my lap as I try to figure out why that memory of all memories pops up.

“You’re from Manhattan?” Lauren asks with wide eyes.

“Yes. I was. I had to move.”

“You lost your husband and your home?” Kevin is looking at me sadly.

The look is the kind that Jackie gives when she thinks I’m losing it, when I’m going back to that bad mental headspace I was in the day she found me in my apartment.

“I’m okay, I guess …” I pause, trying to find the right words. “A home is only a home when the people you love are in it. Otherwise, it’s just four walls and a carpet and a shit-ton of memories. For me, even the good memories became too much to bear.”

I feel a hurtful pang on my heart. I didn’t know you could actually feel pain there. It’s heavy, and it weighs down your soul. I grip my chest and cling to it like a lifeline.

“Sometimes, I wake up and think it was a nightmare,” I continue. “I keep hoping I’ll wake up and roll over, and Benjamin will be lying next to me. I’ll tell him about my crazy dream, and he’ll hold me because who would think this life was possible? But it is. It all happened. I replay it over and over again in my head. I can’t stop it, and I can’t change how the movie ends.”