A Visit From Mary

Chapter Fourteen: A Visit from Mary

The soft knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I had been staring blankly at the mug of tea in front of me, the steam swirling in lazy patterns as if mocking the chaos in my mind. I didn't need to guess who it was—Mary's timing was always impeccable, her visits a balm during my most turbulent days.

And there she was, warm smile and kind eyes flashing in the doorway, contrasting with the storm inside. "Hey, Emma," she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I brought your favorite-lemon cake from that bakery on Maple Street. Figured you could use a little pick-me-up."

I couldn't help but smile, though it felt small and fragile. "Thanks, Mary. You're a lifesaver."

We settled into the living room, the lemon cake untouched on the coffee table. Mary took a sip of the tea I'd poured for her, her sharp eyes never leaving my face.

"Alright," she said, setting the cup down. "Spill it. What's going on?"

I hesitated, my fingers tracing the rim of my mug. Talking to Mary always felt like peeling off a Band-Aid-painful but necessary. "It's Ryan," I said finally.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ryan? As in your ex-boyfriend, Ryan? The one who—"

"Yes, that Ryan," I said, interrupting her not quite ready to delve into that just yet.

Mary leaned back, crossing her arms. "This should be interesting. What's he done to get you all tied up in knots again?"

I took a deep breath, the words spilling out in a rush. "We ran into each other while I was shopping. We exchanged numbers, and now we've been talking. He's told me he's not married and. he wants me back."

Mary's expression softened, but her tone remained firm. "And how do you feel about that?

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about him constantly. All the good times, the way we used to be. But then I remember how it ended, how heartbroken I was, and I'm scared, Mary. What if it happens all over again?"

Mary leaned forward, her hands clasped together. "Emma, I'm going to be real with you. Ryan was a big part of your life, and it's natural to feel conflicted. But you can't let fear dictate your choices. The question is: Has he really changed, or is he just trying to relive the past?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. He says he wants me back, but words are just. words."

Mary watched me for a minute, her expression thoughtful. "Then give him space," she said finally. "See if his actions match his words. Don't jump into anything too quickly. Let him prove that he's serious."

It sounded like a good idea, but it didn't unknot the tight ball in my chest. "But what if I give him space and he just disappears? What if I lose him all over again?"

Mary's voice gentled, her hand reaching to lay on mine. "Emma, if Ryan is right for you, giving him space won't send him running. It'll do the opposite: make him more determined to prove his seriousness. And if he is going to disappear, well, then he wasn't worth the time anyway."

I nodded slowly, her words sinking in. But the fear lingered, clinging to me like a shadow. "I’m just so scared, Mary. Scared of opening my heart again, only to have it shattered."

Mary's eyes were filled with sympathy, but her tone was firm. "That's o.k. to fear, Emma. But you're stronger now than you were back then. You've been through so much, and you've come out the other side. Don't sell yourself short. You have the strength to handle whatever comes your way."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to utter a word. "You think I should give him a chance?"

Mary leaned back and looked up, her stare unwavering. "I think you should listen to yourself. If it's a calling of any sort from within, follow it, but with due care. Protect yourself, yet don't shut your heart either. Most people who start afresh won't be able to understand one another the way both of you do, so that is a good enough foundation there. At the same time, you must remember what you learned in the past.

And then she said something that clicked, like a ray of clarity through the din of confusion: "So you're saying I give him space and see what happens?"

"Exactly," Mary said, nodding. "Let him show you who he is now. And while you're at it, take some time to figure out what you want. This isn't just about Ryan-it's about you, too."

The thought of focusing on myself felt foreign, almost indulgent. But maybe Mary was right; maybe I needed to stop letting my fear of the past dictate my future.

"Thanks, Mary," I said finally, my voice soft but sincere. "I needed to hear that."

She smiled, her warmth a soothing balm. "That's what friends are for. Just promise me one thing?"

"Anything," I said.

"Don't let fear make that decision for you," she had said, "and no matter what happens, remember, you have people around who love and support you."

The lump in my throat returned, and all I could do was nod-my voice was incompressible. Mary always seemed to manage to cut through the din inside my head, remind me of a strength I had quite often forgotten I even had.

As she left later that afternoon, her words stayed with me. The fear was still there, but so was a newfound resolve.

Ryan might b

e a risk, but maybe, just maybe, he was a risk worth taking.