Page 50 of Falling With You
She frowned at the mailbox when I pulled in, and I turned off the engine, looking at her. “What’s wrong?”
“The flag’s up, and I don’t remember putting anything in.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, but I shook it off since it made no sense. “Let me check it with you,” I whispered.
“I’ll be fine, it’s just a mailbox.”
“And we’ve seen enough movies to know it’s never just a mailbox.”
“Touché.”
But we walked to the receptacle together, and she opened it as I stood in front of her. “It’s just a rose. Weird, though.”
I frowned, that tingling sensation not leaving me. “Why is someone leaving a rose in your mailbox?”
“This is the second one, actually.”
“Excuse me?” I looked around as if someone were watching us, though it couldn’t be anything like that. I thought of her attackers, but they hadn’t known who she was and hadn’t taken her purse, so they didn’t know her address. It couldn’t be that.
“It must be my neighbors. They’re really sweet and have left me baked goods on my doorstep in the past, you know? They knew I was hurt, and it’s super sweet of them to make sure I’m okay. That must be it. I’ll thank them tomorrow.”
It didn’t sit well with me, but Sienna didn’t seem worried. Considering that we had been stressed out for the last half of the evening because of our own irrational fears, I figured this was just fine. It had to be fine. So, I walked her to her door, kissed her again, and waited for her to click the lock shut before I went back to my car.
But I couldn’t help but look at the mailbox.
I couldn’t help but wonder why someone would leave a rose. According to her…again.
Chapter Eleven
Asking for help sucks. Not asking for help is suckier.
-Sienna, age 10 after failing her science project.
Sienna
This was notmy first time on this couch, and I knew it wouldn’t be my last. I looked around at the tan walls, and dark furniture, and the hanging photos that were of nothing and yet calming at the same time. Nothing was too bright, too bold, too sad, or tooanything. It might have seemed bare to others, but I knew Mary did her best to ensure that the office was soothing and welcoming.
It didn’t make it any easier today, however.
There was a rustling of paper and fabric against leather. “So, Sienna, how about you tell me a little bit of what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.”
I looked up at Mary and tried to smile. I liked Mary. I respected her. But it was hard to smile. Hard to cry. Hard to do much of anything when I didn’t know what to feel.
It had been at least six months since I last saw her. And I knew I probably should have seen her far more and sooner, considering everything that had happened over the past few months. But it was easier to tell myself that everything would be fine, that there was nothing wrong. That I could just talk with my friends and talk about myself. That I was totally healthy and doing great all on my own.
But that wasn’t the case.
Considering what had happened the weekend before with Aiden? Not even close to being the case.
“I’m sorry for spacing so long between visits. But I thought I was doing okay.” Iwasokay. But whatokaymeant for me had changed.
Mary just gave me a smile and nodded.
“Don’t be sorry about asking for help. And don’t be sorry for thinking you’re okay. Because you don’t need to talk about everything with me. I’m here to listen. I’m here for you to tell me what you need to. I’m not here to pry. I’m not here to strip all of your secrets. I’m just here.”
“And to think I used to come here just for anxiety.” I said the words casually, and she just smiled at me. A smile that wasn’t condescending but just told me that I wasn’t alone.
It didn’t feel like she was placating me, only that she was really here to listen. And I needed to get back in the habit of actually allowing someone to hear me.