A month into the program, Sam was able to visit. As I turned the corner to meet him in the lobby, I instantly felt relief at the sight of him. He looked nervous waiting by the front desk, but all I felt was joy. I went straight into his arms, hugging him tight with a sigh of contentment.
"Hi," I breathed, so very comfortable in his arms.
"Hi," he whispered back. He held me to him, hands pressing me tight against his body. "Words cannot express how happy I am to hold you."
We rocked gently side to side as we hung on to each other, before I pulled away to kiss him. He held my face as he pressed his mouth against mine. I sighed again in pleasure.
He pulled back to look at me, not releasing his hold on me. He took in my appearance, drinking the sight of me. I preened before him, happy with my changing appearance. He smoothed the back of his fingers down my cheek. "You look radiant," he said.
My appearance had started to transform. When I came to the recovery center, I told them about my eating disorder and that I wanted to change. They immediately started monitoring my food and giving me support in understanding and changing my eating habits. It, too, was impossibly hard, and at times I hated it and regretted saying anything. But after a few weeks of eating better, I'd started to change both emotionally and physically. I'd gained a little weight, a small amount appearing in my cheeks as well as my body. My hair felt less brittle and my skin more supple. I liked the changes.
Sam looked panicked after the words had left his mouth. "No, I am not supposed to comment on your appearance," he chastised himself. Words rushed, he amended, "It is just, you look happier."
I laughed. "It's okay. I like the changes."
"I cannot imagine how hard you must be working."
I smiled. "I'm proud of myself."
"You should be. I admire your strength so much."
I took him on the tour of the center again, this time having anecdotes for each room, and I introduced him to both staff and my roommate.
A week into my time at the center, my first roommate left, having completed her stay. Her aura was bright and light, and her emotions were happy and excited. The program had worked for her. She encouraged me to give it a shot and work through it. She was a success story, and it was encouraging to see that it had worked for someone. It gave me hope.
My next roommate was weepy and scared, and I felt less encouraged by her attitude. She'd just gotten out of her abusive relationship, and hadn't had time to process it or learn to live with it. At first we were annoyed by each other, me with her endless crying, and her with my surliness. But as the weeks went on, we reached the same emotional state, accepting what had happened to us, and accepting the work of the program. We'd grow closer, and were a support to each other.
"This is Brynn," I introduced when we found my roommate out back.
"So this is the infamous Sam," Brynn said, exaggeratedly taking him in. Sam stood there awkwardly, not realizing she was joking. "I hardly expected you to be real."
"Shut up," I said mildly, leaning into Sam. He held my hand tight, giving me a gentle, loving look.
Brynn sighed. "I can't tell whether I should be disgusted or charmed by your affection," she said.
"Charmed," Sam and I both said together.
"Ugh," she said. "Your sweetness is giving me a stomachache. I'll see you later."
After she disappeared back inside, I led Sam over to the rocking chairs overlooking the lake. It was beautiful, and for a few minutes we sat in silence and took in the sight.
Working up the courage to say what I wanted to, I finally told him, "I regret what I did with Tristan."
Sam balked. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"Yes, I do. In order to release part of the shame and guilt," I explained, "I want to tell you I'm sorry for going behind your back and doing those things with Tristan. I should have been stronger, but I wasn't and I let him back me into doing bad things with him."
Understanding what I needed, he took my hands and stared deeply into my eyes. He said, "I forgive you, Abigail."
It didn't immediately take the shame away, but it was a start. With his forgiveness, I could start working on forgiving myself. I smiled, leaning back into him. It felt so good to be in his arms again.
----------------
The next week, I had another visitor. I'd asked Sam to arrange for a member of the Council to come see me. I had a request, and I wanted to make it in person.
The Council member who arrived at my center was a short blonde woman in tall shoes, exuding power and otherworldliness. She wasn't very warm, but I welcomed her kindly anyways. "Thank you so much for coming," I said after we'd introduced ourselves. Her name was Camille, and she had been on the Council for a hundred years.
I took her on a tour of the recovery center, showing her the places I'd spent the last few weeks. She politely followed along, and once we were finished, she compelled the staff to let us use one of the offices for a private meeting between the two of us.
Once alone, I explained why I was at the recovery center. I explained what had happened with Eric, and how it had affected me. After my weeks at the center, it was getting easier and easier to talk about it.
Camille listened in silence as I told my story, and let the quiet continue once I had finished. "I've asked you to come here to ask for more time," I explained. "I washed in the river water in October, granting me a year to decide if I wanted immortality or not. But as you can see, I am in no place to make that decision. I'm not in the headspace to choose levelheadedly. I wanted to show you that I'm trying to get there, that I'm not just wasting my time, but I need more of it."
She regarded me in silence for a long minute. "Is love not enough to make your decision?" she asked evenly.
"I love Sam with my whole heart," I explained. "And I want to spend every moment of my life with him, but it's not enough to make this decision blindly. If I do this, if I chose immortality, I have to do it for myself and not just him. I'm only eighteen," I pointed out. "I'm not ready to make a choice that affects not just my mortal life, but the rest of my existence."
After my petition, we sat in silence as she deliberated. Each second that went by weakened my resolve. She wouldn't grant me this, I realized. It had been worth asking, but I saw then how pointless it had been.
Camille finally spoke, and I fully expected a rejection. "I admire your heart, Abigail," she said instead.
I sat up from my defeated slouch, surprised.
"Let me just say, no one should ever have to go through what you did, and I am sorry for what you have suffered through. If that man had not gone to jail, I would have personally led vigilante justice against him."
I looked back at her, stunned. That was not what I had expected.
She continued, "I see your point about not being in a place to make a good decision, and though you have a few more months to hopefully improve your mental wellbeing before you must make your choice, I agree that this should not be rushed. Therefore, I grant you two extra years."
My mouth dropped open. "Really?" I squeaked.
She smiled gently at me, the first smile she'd given me since arriving. "Yes, really. Three Octobers from now will be your new deadline. I assume that will be enough time for you to feel more confident in your decision?"
"Oh, plenty, I think." Enough time for me to grow up more. "Thank you, Camille. Sincerely."
"I will also assign an immortal therapist to come council you while you attend this program. They will be able to give you counseling about your trauma with an immortal lens."
"Whoa," I said. "That would be really great."
"In addition to what seems like excellent care givers here, they will help you consider your decision, while helping you through your trauma."
"I would really, really like that," I said. "Thank you, Camille."
"We genuinely want the best for all our immortals, Abigail, and that includes the Beloveds of our people," she told me, and I believed her.
"I can't thank you enough."
"Of course." She leaned forward then, putting a hand on my knee with a conspiratorial smile. "We women have to stick together, after all."
I returned her grin in agreement.
I walked Camille out soon after, thanking her again for making the trip out to see me, and her granting me my petition.
"Abigail," she said, pausing as we walked outside, putting a gentle hand on my elbow. "Off the record, I sincerely hope you decide to go through with immortality. I think the world could use someone with your determination and emotional maturity as an eternal asset."
Whoa, what a compliment coming from someone who saw the world from an eternal point of view. "Thank you," I murmured. "That means a lot."
We said goodbye then, her promising to send the counselor my way within the week, and off she drove.
Although my peace of mind still wasn't recovered, I felt hopeful with my extended timeframe, and rushed off to call Sam and give him the good news.