TO THE STARS

Epilogue

                                 Present Day
                                    
     I entangle my legs and push forward on the velvet couch. "Well, there you have it. My story." I wave my hands around, adding more emphasise.

     My therapist, Mrs. Emerson clears her throat and flips her notebook to a close, moving forward as well in her Arne Jacobsen Egg chair. She is a stunning woman in her mid forties, who was clearly a model in her early days with her smooth caramel skin, perfectly angled face and legs for days. She gives off a sense of grace, elegant and poise; things I'm still discovering for myself till date.

"That was quite a story and I'm very glad you decided to open that part of your life to me. Believe it or not Andrea, but I'm very proud of the woman that I've watched you become." she smiles genuinely. It reminded me of Cherry.

     I mutter a thank you and recline back on the couch. "Have you ever thought of how funny is it that a therapist is seeking help from another therapist? Like professional help?" I chuckle under my breath, marvelled on how I only thought of it now.

     Mrs. Emerson gives merely a ghost of a smile. "Everyone no matter who they are need a little help once in a while, even me."
    
     I doubt. "I guess."
    
     She reopens her book. "How do you feel about today and how does it affect your life starting from now?" One thing I had loved about Mrs. Emerson was her ability to ask the right questions, the ones you ask yourself when found alone with your thoughts.
    
     I give myself time to ponder over the question before answering. "For starters, we both know you're talking about the anniversary. To be honest, I'm conflicted. I know this year is different, I can feel it. I can also see myself finally moving on. It's what he would have wanted," I hesitate. "I knew it's what he would have wanted," I whisper, more to myself.
    
     Mrs. Emerson kept shut, nodding softly. She always gave me a lot of space to express myself. She did more listening than talking during our sessions; hmming and aahing in the right places.

     I continue. "Today was the first time I allowed myself to be happy over the fact that Aidan wasn't the first thought that came to mind," I chuckle. "Do you know what I woke up thinking about this morning?"
    
     I answer without waiting for a reply. "I was thinking about trying out the new cereal everyone has talking about," I couldn't hold in my laughter, so I burst out laughing. "You know the one they have been advertising everywhere; on the television, on the radio, billboards," I shrug my shoulders, the joyous moment fading away. "I finally realised that it was okay to not think about him all the time. He's right here," I point to my chest, where supposedly my heart is. "And that's all that matters."

"And how does this new revelation affect your life from this day forth?" She sips graceful from her cup of coffee.

     I shrug again. "To be honest, I don't know. I just want to take each day slowly and live it like it's my last.

     She quirks her brow. "Why do you say so? In quote, "live it like it's your last?"

"No reason to think too deep now, Naomi," I tease. "Life's just too short to waste it on trivial things.

"Hmm." There was a ghost of a smile on her face.
    
     She jots in her notebook, lifting her head for another query. "Do you plan on visiting his final resting place?"
    
     I smile widely. "Of course I am and nothing is going to change about that." I enclose my hand tightly around the locket; the golden one I never took off. "Yes. Today, seven years ago was the day he died, but it's also the day he told me he loved me." My hand grips tighter around the locket. "It's significant to me. A day I will always remember. So yes, I'm going to visit him."

                                     ...

     The contrast between the quiet air conditioned lobby and the humid busy street was undeniable. People rushed by, doing mundane things; totally ignorant of the problems around them. They were a bit selfish in their own little ways and I didn't blame them. I wrap my hand around my golden anchor and join the mass, slowly admiring the city I had called home for the past six years or so.

     After the accident, I couldn't bring myself to stay in the same place that illustrated what we would have been. The same place that held heart breaking memories, broken promises and shattered dreams. It was too overwhelming, so I moved. My parents and Andrew weren't so thrilled about the idea, but they showed their support nevertheless.
   
     New York was by far the best decision I had made in a long time. The vibrant and multi diverse way of living opened my eyes in so many ways and created significant doors in my life presently.

     I graduated from Columbia University with a first class honour in the study of Clinical Psychology. I'm on my way to obtaining my doctorate degree, I have a great job at a prestigious mental specialist centre, a lovely enough apartment to brag about and a nice car.

     In the eyes of some, my life is pretty perfect. Only if they knew.

     Aidan's death had me determined to never love again. I got so committed to working and pushing myself hard that I never had time to think about going out. My job was everything to me, my clients even more. I had the opportunity of counselling young adults. You could say Cherry was a huge influence in my career choice. I wanted to do to others youngsters what you did for me.

     I something find myself looking back and feeling extremely grateful for my progress and my courage to move on. It wasn't always like this. Oh no. The first years were the hardest. I was in worst places compared to what occurred with Bryan. It felt like life was punishing me for a crime I couldn't remember committing; as if it was laughing at my attempt to move on. Aidan's death took a bullet straight to my heart; it destroyed me, made me believe I wasn't meant for anything good, that I was birthed to be alone forever. I shortly decided to get help. If anything, the healing process after what the damages caused by Bryan allowed me see that asking and seeking out help didn't make one weak. Quite the contrary, it shows how strong a person is, how strong enough they are to do something. No matter how small.

     Mrs. Naomi Emerson was a great part of my journey. She assisted in opening my eyes and heart to the beauty of the world I had forgot about. She made my path to acceptance seem so effortless. She always reminded me to remember to look up to the stars, like my father did.
     
     Coffee House Café is my to-go spot; my home outside of home. It has a unique flux of out-of-date and contemporary. Its homely colours and design made the modern furniture pop. I had stumbled through its door on a rainy day, seeking shelter and warmth. What started out as a coincidence grew to become a habit.

     I stretch my hand forward, reaching for the handle when someone else beat me to it. In my very before stood a man I knew all too well, or so I thought. Tall, dark haired, brown eyes, charming smile. Seeing his face brought back memories, ones I needed hidden away. It makes my mind uneasy and my skin tingle to have him so close.

     At some point in my life, I could have been running for the hills, screaming of what he had done to me. However, I wasn't that person anymore. That scared little girl is long gone.

     His voice is just as I remember, only a tad bit deeper. "Andrea."

     The years did him some good. He looks well, more experienced; a little rough on some edges, but everything seems to work out just fine. In one hand is a brown Styrofoam cup with a "CHC" imprinted over it, likely containing a fresh brew and in the other a signature Coffee House strawberry jam doughnut. He smiles warmly at me.

     The voice I hear however isn't mine, it's stronger. "Bryan."