He promised he'd locate exactly what I wanted. Although, I wasn't holding my breath. I started to think I was being too picky and would never find anything that checked all the boxes. But he had come highly recommended, so I decided I'd let him have the week to find something before I started giving in and letting go of some of my wishes.
Heidi had done as I'd asked, and on Sunday night, I received an email with everything laid out in black and white. I had planned to see Gabi first thing Monday morning, and I couldn't have been more relieved to have everything I needed to execute my plan. I wasn't sure how she'd take the news, but I was hoping with a week of intensive therapy under her belt, and with a mediator in the room with us, there wouldn't be any issues.
On Monday morning I made my way to the rehabilitation clinic that Gabi now called her temporary home. My hands shook slightly when I opened the door to the office where our meeting would take place. I'd been with Gabi for over a decade, but I'd learned to always be prepared for the unexpected.
"Gabriella has done very well so far in the program," the therapist began after we made ourselves comfortable in his small office. It was just the three of us-Dr. Thomas, Gabi, and myself. "We've made a lot of progress over the first week, and she's been looking forward to sharing those significant steps with you. Gabriella, why don't you tell Dane about the things you've learned?"
Gabi fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt, which she had pulled down over her wrist, probably to cover the bandage. I knew how hard it was for me to see, so I could only assume the regret and anguish she felt knowing what she'd done to herself in a moment of weakness.
"Well, we've talked about what happened to me."
"Be more specific, Gabriella," Dr. Thomas interjected.
She cleared her throat and started over, avoiding any eye contact. "I've been open and honest about what Todd did to me. I've been able to work through a lot of the shame I've felt over the years and have harbored since then. My mom has even come in for a session, and I was able to express to her how her choices have negatively impacted me."
It sounded like a rehearsed speech, as if one of her doctors had given her a script to recite. I didn't like how her monologue made me feel. I was used to her shutting down and keeping everything inside, and although it was nice to hear her open up about things, it didn't feel genuine. Her sentences were clearly structured and she said all the right things, but the words were missing emotion.
"I still have a long way to go." She shifted in her seat and finally looked at me. "But I'm really learning a lot about managing my emotions in a healthier way. Talking about it helps, and there's a girl here-I share a room with her-who talks to me a lot. We have similar stories, so it's nice to not feel so alone."
I wanted to tell her she never had to feel that way. That I had been there, right beside her, every step of the way. Had she come to me and admitted the truth, I could've been there for her even more. But one of the things I was told prior to coming in was to avoid pointing out the mistakes she'd made in the past. She needed to focus on moving forward, and making her feel even more guilt over the things she couldn't change wouldn't help that. I understood, so I kept my mouth closed and let her continue.
Gabi glanced at her doctor, and after receiving a nod from him, she faced me again. "You deserve the truth. All of it. I've learned I can't hide behind the lies I created and expect to move forward. No matter how we move on from here-be it together or apart-you deserve to know the truth."
"I already know, Gabi."
"You don't know everything, and you've never heard it directly from me."
She had a point, so I conceded and nodded to urge her to tell me her truth.
With a deep breath, she began to expel the demons she'd carried around for the last eleven years. "I told you my dad died when I was young." As she spoke, her eyes turned to her twisted hands in her lap. "That wasn't true. I have three memories of him. The first one is of him holding my mom against the wall in our living room … her feet couldn't touch the ground. He yelled while my mom cried, but other than that, all I recall is hiding behind the couch and wishing he would stop. The next memory is of him backhanding me until I fell into the kitchen table. My mom was there too, but other than screaming, to my recollection, she did nothing. If I close my eyes and think about that time, I see blood. I know it wasn't my own, but other than that, I don't know whose it was. I can only assume it was my mother's."
Just hearing her retell these stories I was sure she'd never uttered to another soul broke my heart. I wasn't sure I could continue listening to them, but I knew I had to. This was part of Gabi's past, part of how she'd ended up here in the first place, and it was what she needed to face if she ever wanted to move past it. But it didn't make it any easier to hear.