CHAPTER 140 — Clarity in Solitude

CHAPTER 140 — Clarity in Solitude

Lisa's POV

I have twelve hours before I meet Leo.

Twelve hours to decide what I'm going to say. How I'm going to tell him that we're still worth fighting for. How I’m going to show I’m worthy of the love he’s given me.

The house is impossibly big and empty. Every room holds the sound of — Leo in the kitchen laughing, Leo on the couch reading, Leo holding me in our bed. Two weeks ago a ghost of happiness that feels like a lifetime even though it’s only been two weeks.

Two weeks since Andre called.

Two weeks since I made the worst decision of my life.

I make myself some tea and go to the kitchen table with a notebook. I haven’t journaled in years — not since therapy after my divorce — but my therapist used to say that writing helps you process things that are too big to have in your head.

And this one feels too big. All of it.
I look at the white page for a long time, before I ever begin to write.

Why did I even think about helping Andre? 

The question hangs, stark and accusatory. It’s the question that Leo asked. The question I’ve been running from.

Why?

I rattle my pen on the paper, thinking. Rethinking it for the first time at least the panic and fear fog were not in my eyes.

Because part of me wanted to prove something to him.

The confession makes me shudder but I continue writing. I wanted to show that I got through him. That I was successful and happy in spite of him. That he made the biggest mistake of his life by leaving me.

God, it’s so pathetic when you write it out. But it’s true.

When Andre first called, when he was begging and desperate, a fragmented part of me felt... powerful. After years of being the one made to feel powerless in our marriage, after years of him making me feel small and worthless, suddenly I was the one holding all the cards.

He needed me . He wanted my assistance.
Now that’s a senti-mental feeling.

I write quicker now, the words spilling.
The whole time he never stopped making me feel like I wasn’t good enough for him. Like I should consider myself lucky he picked me. Like I should be thankful he stuck around when I was “too emotional” or “too needy” or “too sensitive.”

The memories come flooding back, and I grip the pen with my hand. Every time he put me down . Every time he made me doubt my own eyes. Every time he’s managed to turn his errors into my mistakes.

When I discovered about Claire, he made it seem as if I was to blame. Said I'd pushed him away. Said I’m not giving him what he needs. Made me think that if I just acted differently, tried harder, was more, he wouldn't have needed to go elsewhere.

My sight's going blurry with tears, but I´m still writing. 

I trusted him. I really thought I was the one who was to blame. Took two years of therapy to unravel all the ways he had manipulated me into feeling responsible for his decisions.

And then Leo came along.

Nothing is further from the truth with Leo as it is with Andre.

I underline it three times.
Leo never makes me feel small. Never dismisses my feelings. Never gets me to question myself or my value.
Leo respects me. Listens to me. Considers my opinions.
Leo has never once given me the impression that I have to earn his love.

The contrast is so pronounced it's almost painful. Why didn't I see it before? How did I allow Andre’s manipulation to infiltrate my relationship with Leo?

Because that's what this was. Manipulation.
I write it out, dotting up the Is and connecting all the dots I should have connected weeks ago.

Andre calling wasn’t because he needed my help. It was about regaining control. I shouldn’t doubting myself again. To show that he could still do things to me.

And I let him.

I let him back into my head. Let him make me question myself. Let him come between me and Leo.

Just like he used to do.

The patterns are so clear now. Andre would want to find something wrong, then blame me for it. He'd press me to conceal things from loved ones, isolate me, monopolize me, make me think he was the only one who truly knew me.

And when I finally got away from that, when I finally made a life without him, he wanted to do it all over again.

He told me, 'Don't tell anyone we are meeting.' I did.
He had me feeling like I needed to do this alone. I believed him.
He made me question if I should even tell Leo. I doubted.

I crumple the pen in my fist, and then place my palms over my face.

Oh God. I played right into his hands.After years of therapy, after I worked so hard to see his manipulation tactics, I still fell for it.

Because some part of me still craved his validation. Still needed to convince myself I was strong enough, successful enough, good enough.
But I was seeking validation, from a person who never valued me to begin with.

Someone who regarded me as a tool, not a human. As a someone to borrow from or take shortcuts with rather than a someone to care for or desire.

I lift the pen again.
Leo values me.
Leo can tell me—really tell me— and he loves what he sees.

That's the crux of it. Leo's trust wasn’t the problem. It was my lack of trust in myself.
I was so nervous about Leo thinking I was weak or broken or predicamen—I mean, still up on my ex that I hid everything. But the cover-up, the deceit, only made it worse. 

If I had just told him at the beginning—”Andre called and I don’t know what to do”—he would have come to my aid. Would have stood beside me. Would have been my partner in crime on getting through it.

I dealt with it by myself, went it alone. Made myself alone. Validated every single one of my worst fears—that I can’t trust, that I can’t be vulnerable, that I can’t let someone do something for me.

I wanted to hold on to Leo so much that I did the very things that would drive him away.
It’s the irony that’s almost funny. Almost.
I turn a page down and make a list.

The contrast makes my chest ache. 

Months of Leo teaching me what love is have taught. And when my past came a’knockin’, I reverted to every toxic pattern Andre programmed into me.

I didn trust Leo because Andre taught me not to trust.

I didn't beg for assistance because Andre taught me that asking for help was a sign of weakness.
I hid things because Andre taught me that being truthful was risky.

I told myself I was strong enough to endure being lied to and to allow Andre’s deception to me play out.

But they are lies.

I write it big, pressing hard on the paper.
I deserve Leo's love.
And I need to prove I'm worthy of it.
But how?

I tap the pen against the paper, thinking.
Words won't be enough. Leo has heard me apologize a dozen times. He knows I’m sorry. He knows I love him. But sorry and love aren't enough to rebuild trust.

I have to show him that I know what went wrong. That I understand myself better. That I've done the work to figure out why I made the choices I made. 

I want to show him I’m not running from my history anymore. That I've looked at it, I’ve digested it, and I’m ready to move forward.
I want to prove to him that I pick him. Not because I’m terrified of being alone, or because I need validation, but because he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not going to let my past ruin my future.

I turn over a new leaf and jot down what I’m going to say tonight.

No speech. No choreographed lines. Just raw, honest truths.

Leo, I know that saying I am sorry is not enough. I know I've said it before and it didn't fix anything. But you have to know that I finally get it.

I know why I made the choices I did. Why I allowed Andre back into my life for even a moment. Why I lied to you.

I was still functioning from a place of fear and shame that Andre had shaped in me. I still believed the lies he told me about my worth, my value, my power to be loved. 

When he dialed my number and requested my assistance, a fraction of me thought this was my chance to show him I had moved on, that I was powerful and successful and felt no need for him. But, in reality, I was still hungry for his approval. Still trying to get approval from someone who’s never valued me.

And in that, I hurt the one person who has ever valued me. You. You never told me I had to be anyone else.You never made me feel like your love was something I had to work for. You gave it to me voluntarily, I trusted you wholly, and I repaid that by lying to you.

And now I realize I couldn't trust you, I couldn't open up to you, because of Andre's brainwashing. I learned that seeking assistance signaled frailty, honesty was risky, and I could trust no one but me.

And I want that. I want us.

I know if you don’t trust me again. I know if it's too broken to fix. But I need you to understand that I've done the work I've confronted my history I've come to an understanding with my patterns and I'm prepared to be the partner you want.

It’s raw and vulnerable, completely honest.
That's everything I should have said two weeks ago.

I shut the notebook and look at the clock. Four hours until I see him.

I head upstairs and shower, rinsing away the last two weeks of agony and terror and no-sleep nights. I am standing under the boiling hot water, and I cry – really cry – for everything I’ve lost, everything I’ve learned, everything I want to rebuild.

When I get out, I feel like a different person. Lighter, somehow., Like I've finally released something I've been carrying for years.

I’m dressing with care—not to impress, but so I can recognize the real me, when he gets here. Jeans and sweatshirt. Little to no make up. Hair loose and natural.

I’m not trying to be anyone but me.
And maybe that’ll be enough.
Maybe it won’t.

But I have to think that honesty and vulnerability and real growth mean something. I snatch the notebook, and Scan through what I   wrote once more.

At 6:30, I get in my car and head for Lucia’s Cafe. 
I’m shaking while holding on to the wheel. I feel like my heart is going to explode out of my chest. Every stoplight feels like an hour.

But beneath the fear is something else. Something solid and certain.
Now I know who I am. I know what I want. I know what i'm fighting for.

And I know that no matter what tonight brings, I am finally free of Andre’s grasp on me.
I have finally realized my value does not come from who loves me, or who leaves me.
I am enough.

With or without Leo, I’m enough.

But God, I hope it’s with Leo.
It’s 6:55 and I pull up to the lot and sit in the car, mustering up courage.

Out of the cafe window I can see him. Leo is sitting at a corner table, hands wrapped around a coffee cup, looking into nothing.

Tired he seems Sad. Lost. Sad. Lost.
It is the way I’ve been feeling.
I breathe in deeply, take my purse, and get out of the car.

That’s the way it is.

The way-cleaving chat that makes or breaks you.
I walk toward the cafe, Leo, and whatever future we just might have. And for the first time in a fortnight, I feel prepared.

Ready to be honest. Ready to be vulnerable. Ready to fight for us.

Ready to show that I've changed, I've grown, and I'm deserving of the love he's given me.
I push open the door and I go in.

Leo looks up.

Our eyes meet.
And all the rest just goes out the window.