It was a sunny, warm day. Cathy strolled along the familiar greenbelt trail. The gravel crunched under the soles of her athletic shoes. When she came in view of the playground, she walked on until she reached a deserted park bench. She stopped and laid her hands on the back of the bench. The wood was pleasantly sun-warmed under her palms. She took her time to look around. Just like the last time she had been there, children played on the playground equipment and their shrill, happy voices carried to her on the light spring breeze.
When she had been discharged from the hospital, she had been so fragile, both physically and emotionally. It had been difficult to withstand her sister and brother-in-law’s persuasive arguments for her and Chloe to go back to Singapore with them. However, she had stood firm. It had been a good decision, she reflected. Her friends, her career, and Chloe’s medical support team had all been in Austin. Pam and John had been really good to her. They had paid for a full-year’s lease in advance on the house they had sublet during their visit so that she and Chloe had a nice place to recuperate. John had found a decent used vehicle for her, too. Paul had welcomed her back to her old position, and she was slowly making headway against the remaining medical bills. Everything was turning out. Actually, she had only one regret. Michael Lambert.
Darryl Harriman and her best friend had become a couple. Cathy never directly asked about Michael, and Darryl rarely volunteered more than an occasional mention of him except in the context of business. It was Vicky who relayed all the news, including the tidbit that Cathy’s ex-husband had been mugged outside his place of business. Vicky hinted broadly that Michael had been instrumental in that nice bit of karmic justice. Cathy had mixed emotions when Vicky had also related that Michael had not started dating or seeing anyone and that his divorce was final. She also heard that Michael volunteered time with at-risk teens. Apparently, Michael had also been marked significantly by what had happened between them, and his life had been shaped for the better. She was glad.
Michael Lambert had saved her life. She had not been fully appreciative of it at the time. She had been in too bad of shape. But now, Cathy was grateful. She had had time to put everything into better perspective. She had finally wrested a hard-won peace in her life. Strangely enough, her panic attacks had never recurred, probably because she had come so close to the worst that she could ever imagine happening. Against all the odds, Chloe had survived and come home, and now she was actually thriving.
As for her torrid affair with Michael and its ugly ending, her therapist had made an acute observation. “The extreme trauma of your life, Cathy, fed and sustained the addictive sexual undertow that you were swept up in. With the turn-around in your daughter’s life, you regained a balance in your own life.”
Cathy glanced down at the wide gold bangle bracelet encircling her wrist. It was the same one that Michael had bought for her. She had thought it was lost. Apparently, one of her friends who had helped her move out of the apartment had found it. When Pam unpacked the box of clothing, she had found the bracelet. When Pam hesitantly offered it to her, Cathy had snatched the gold band and thrown it across the room.
Without a word of reprimand or surprise, Pam had picked up the bracelet and put it inside the drawer of Cathy’s bedside table. “You might want it back some day, to remember the good parts,” she had said quietly.
Cathy had not been able to even look at the bracelet for a long time. The pain was too raw. However, her sister had been right. But those good things that she remembered—were they real? Her therapist had asked her to explore that question. After all, her relationship with Michael had begun and been built on sex-for-hire. “There was an inherent and unhealthy power structure between you, Cathy, one that stifled any of the real intimacy that grows naturally between a man and a woman who are invested in one another. When money dictates and sex defines, the relationship is inevitably confined by those same parameters.” The therapist had smiled slightly, compassion in her dark gaze. “There was the added complication of your need to submerge yourself in the forgetfulness of passion. By any standard, your relationship was powerfully toxic.” Recalling that damning observation, misgivings swept through her.