𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗

JOSH and Crystal get engaged right after his Super Bowl win and a month after that, they come to New York to spend a week with me.

We do the touristy stuff I haven't gotten around to, the Empire State Building, MOMA, and The Lion King at Crystal's request. We talk very little about their wedding, still very early in the planning stages, but it makes me a bit uncomfortable, remembering my own planning. Plus it'll be my first trip home. They're aware of how I'm feeling and keep the wedding talk to generalizations and honeymoon thoughts, something I'm grateful for. I'll face it when I have to face it, a good year away, they assure me.

As always, Josh cuts to the chase of another thing on my mind. "Just invite them to come see you. I know Mom is waiting for you to make the first move."

"She could come; she doesn't need to wait for me to invite her." I wipe wing sauce from my fingers.

Josh gives me a look. "You know how she is. She's -"

"I know, waiting for me and dad to make up," I interrupt. "I have no problem with him; he's the one that's abrupt on the phone, wanting to get off right away and talking about anything but what happened."

"Not everyone is as comfortable as you, talking about it."

"Well, too bad. This is who I am now. All of it comes with knowing me. He pretends it didn't happen." I grab another napkin and push my food away.

Crystal orders another round. "Well, for what it's worth, I agree with you. Everything we do shapes us, and if this is how you got to where you are supposed to be, then there's no reason to pretend it didn't happen."

I look at my brother's fiancée, no longer the young girl in the hall but the woman going for her Ph.D. in Behavioral Science. Wants to be a criminologist, of all things. "Thank you, Crystal. I knew you'd get it."

She smiles and takes another bite of her wing. "Part of me feels bad for him." My smile falls and her eyes show sympathy. "Not for the reasons you think, not because of something his son did, but because he can't even see that you need him now, more than ever. He's missing out on knowing you, and you've really worked on being pretty great."

I decide to stop the therapy, after long conversations with Maria, Pete and his wife, and my therapist himself. We agree that if at any time I need to talk about something, even if it's just a one-time appointment, I won't hesitate to make the call. I won't forget that I don't have to close everything into a box like it's a wrong thought and hide it all away.

Ending therapy is almost like getting out of jail, the act itself feeling like I've finished another important phase in my life.

Spring is in the air and I take a lungful of it, standing with my hands in my pockets on my therapist's front steps after my last session. Left or right, which direction to go, because all roads are open to me. I laugh internally, realizing I sound like an inspirational poster in my head a lot lately.

Once I'm back in my apartment, I call my parents, thanking them again for making the trip out over the weekend. My father is still uncomfortable on the phone, even though the visit was good, if not a bit tense at times. It's a small step up a bigger hill. But it's one we're both willing to make.

There is nothing but happiness and kind thoughts in my head when my mother mentions she just heard Lydia is expecting her second girl, and I ask her to pass on my congratulations. Lydia and I don't speak, nothing past those two letters in prison. I know my mother loves her, and I'm glad Lydia  shares a bit of her life with her. For me, I'm rewarded the next phone call with my mother telling me she appreciated the thought.

It's the best gift I could give her, a life without me. But it's Lydia that gives me the best gift.

The gift of her life moving on from me with no resentment, no grudge, no remaining blackness. All that's in her is love – the love that always filled her heart - which now overflows for her new family, the people that deserve it.