Mercy cannot exist apart from suffering. Is that the sole reason why agonies are an object of love? The feeling flows from the stream of friendship.

Saint Augustine

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sabina

I recognize the insistent knock on the front door. Great. I turn down the music and go to answer the door.

“Come on in.” I swing the door wide.

“I wanted to give you some time. But I also wanted to check on you.”

“Ellyn, I don’t need your pity.” We stand in the tight entry, with the door still open.

“Good, because I’m not doling out pity. So, are we just going to stand here?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Ellyn smiles. “What do you think?”

I swing the door closed and follow her to the kitchen, where she sets the teapot to boil.

“Make yourself at home,” I say to her back as she turns on the range.

“I hear the sarcasm in your voice.”

“Good.” I go to the cupboard and take out two mugs. “Listen, Ellyn, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to talk about . . . about what I shared with you. I had no intent of ever discussing it, but you pressured me.”

Ellyn leans against the counter next to the stove. “Sabina, if one of your clients went through something as traumatic as what you’ve experienced, would you let them get away with saying they don’t want to talk about it and blaming you for pressuring them?”

“I can’t own my client’s responses or reactions.”

“But you can own their choices?”

The tenderness in her voice is like an arrow through my heart. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about this.”

She reaches over and turns the range off just as the teapot begins to whistle.

“Just tell me this. Are you talking to someone? A counselor?”

“Yes. I did.” I drop tea bags in the mugs and set them on the counter so she can fill them.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“And now?” She pours the boiling water into the cups.

“And now I’m here.”

“Hiding.”

“Ellyn, I don’t expect you to understand. There’s more to it than you can imagine. I’m healing. End of story.” I take my mug and head to the living room.

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“Here, let me turn on the lamps.” I see Ellyn look at the closed blinds and at the leather chairs I moved so they face into the living room rather than toward the picture window.

“Honey, you have one of the most beautiful views in the world . . .” She looks at me and cocks her head to one side, as though she’s thinking. “You . . . avoid the view. That’s why you always want to walk around the village rather than the headlands. Right?”

“I don’t avoid it. I’m a city girl. I like the village.”

“No, there’s more to it than that.”

“Ellyn, not everyone loves the ocean as much as you do. I’m not a big nature lover. If you want to see the view, we’ll open the blinds.” I set my mug down and walk to the window and pull on the cord that pulls the blinds open. Then I walk to the other wall and do the same. The early afternoon sunlight streams into the living room. “There, better?” I turn, face Ellyn, and then move and sit in one of the leather chairs in front of the window.

“Have a seat.”

“Why won’t you look out? Why won’t you look at the ocean?”

“Girl, let it go. I mean it. Unless you’re ready to talk about yourself, you might as well leave.” I raise one hand. “I’m done.”

She stands in the middle of the living room and stares at me for a moment, then she looks past me, at the spectacular view. I see the questions in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask anything more.

She comes over, sets her mug next to mine, and then sits in the other leather chair. As she does, I see her demeanor change—her shoulders droop and I notice, for the first time today, the dark circles under her eyes.

“Ellyn, are you all right? Is it just the number on the scale?”

She takes a deep breath, “It’s something else too. I might . . . you know . . . want to talk about it.”

“But?”

“But . . . I don’t . . . I don’t want to . . . kiss and tell.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Girl, if you kissed someone, you’d better tell.”

“I didn’t exactly. It was more him. He kissed me.”

“Paco?”

“What? Paco? He’s married.”

I cross one leg over the other and lean back in the chair and smile. “Well, there are only two men in your life that I know of, and if it wasn’t Paco, then it had to be the doctor, which makes this a fascinating conversation. So how do you feel?”

She looks from me to the floor. “Fat.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard her use that word, and condemnation rings loud and clear in her tone.

“So Miles kissed you and now you feel fat?” I’m gentle with the word.

“No, Counselor. I am fat and Miles kissed me.”

“And when you weighed yourself this morning, you felt the scale confirmed your feelings?” My eyes narrow as they have a thousand times before as I’ve sat across from a client and tried to understand what they’re feeling.

She nods. “I don’t get it, Sabina. I mean, when a man kisses a woman it’s because he’s attracted to her.”

“Yes.”

“There has to be something wrong with him, right?”

“Why?”

“Because . . .” She looks down at her body. “. . . look at me.”

I watch her face color and see the pain in her eyes. “Ah, because you’re large, you think you’re unattractive?”

“No, I’m large and, therefore, unattractive. What man is attracted to a woman who . . . who . . .” She looks at me, her question hanging between us.

“Ellyn, anyone who’s in the same room with you and Miles knows he cares about you, enjoys you, and yes, is attracted to you. Beauty is more than a number on a scale. It comes from the soul. You’re one of the most beautiful women I know, inside and out.”

“Give me a break. He’s just playing with me, Sabina. He’s not attracted. He’s probably just desperate.”

I take that one in. “Wow, you don’t give yourself much credit, do you? Or Miles, for that matter.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “It isn’t just about . . . the weight. I set a clear boundary with him. I told him I didn’t want anything more than friendship. And he crossed that boundary. I let him cross that boundary.” She rubs her forehead as though our conversation is making her head ache. “I . . . I . . . didn’t resist . . . at all. But afterward . . .”

She lifts her chin and looks me in the eyes. “Afterward, I told him to leave. I told him I don’t want that type of relationship.” She stands up and walks to the fireplace. “I’m done with him.”

I watch her for a moment, then I nod. “That’s your right—you don’t have to see him again.” I watch as her shoulders relax just a bit. “You made it clear that you only wanted friendship. You know, I’ve teased you about that. I’m sorry. It’s your choice, Ellyn. It’s your prerogative.”

She nods.

“So you’re comfortable with the black-and-white nature of the decision. You’ve let him know the friendship is over. How do you feel now?”

I see tears well in her eyes and then she looks away.

I consider my next question and instinct tells me it’s the right one to ask. “Ellyn, who’s Earl?”

She wipes away her tears. The vulnerability I witnessed is gone, replaced with a resolute set of her chin. The conversation, I’m certain, is finished.

“I . . . I don’t want to talk about this. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

I start to encourage her to talk and then stop. How can I expect her to do what I refuse to do myself? The hypocrite appears again. I look down at the floor. Will I let the hypocrite rule or will I do the right thing? Will I sacrifice myself, my desires, for another?

“I better go. Paco’s alone—”

“Ellyn, wait.” I get up and walk over to where she’s standing by the fireplace. “I understand not wanting to talk. I do. But . . .” I take a deep breath. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

She looks at me with a question in her eyes.

“I’ll talk if you will.”