Kiss Read Free

confusion. The way he says it, I have this all wrong. But in my mind, my goal is—was—clear. Isn’t that how it works? Deal with the past, get justice, make the pain go away?
    “Something like that,” I say.
    Dr. Ayers nods as if he sees everything clearly now. He rises and comes around the desk, propping himself against the front of it and leaning toward me.
    The doctor reaches out with an aging hand and touches my shoulder. “Would you mind if I gave you an alternative theory to consider?”
    Honestly, I have no idea.
    Dr. Ayers straightens. “It is possible that your plan will only root you more deeply in the pain of your past, not separate you from it.”
    My confusion mounts. “So how do you suggest I put my past behind me?”
    “It is behind you, dear. And that’s where it will be forever. You can’t make it vanish—”
    “But I want to. I believe I can.”
    “By creating more pain? The mathematics of that isn’t logical.”
    “I can’t just ignore it!”
    “No, that’s true.”
    “But you think I shouldn’t confront Landon.”
    “Oh, I’m not making any judgment about what you should do, Shauna. I’m only talking about your motivations. What do you really want?”
    “To forget. I want to forget every single, stinging moment that was inflicted on me by people who were supposed to love me. I want someone to take these memories away from me.”
    Dr. Ayers wags a finger in my direction, smiling. “I felt that way once.”
    I take a steadying breath.
    “You know I used be a reverend before I began helping people here?” He gestures to the modest office. “Ministry of a different but no less valuable kind. Got thrown out of my pulpit by some folks who said they loved God but hated his black children. I spent a lot of years feeling the way you do now—that if I looked far and wide enough, I’d find a way to erase both the blight of my memory and the stink of people I held responsible for my pain.”
    He leans forward again, encroaching on my space. “But I discovered some-thing better. Shauna, your history is no less important to your survival than your ability to breathe. In the end, you can only determine whether to saturate your memories with pain or with perspective. Forgetting is not an option. I tell you the truth now: Pain was not God’s plan for this life. It is a reality, but it is not part of the plan.”
    I exhale. “God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. Especially not about his plans for my life.”
    “Pain or perspective, Shauna. That’s all that’s within your control.”
    I drop my head into my hands, feeling more certain than ever that absolutely nothing is in my control.

    In spite of Dr. Ayers’s warning, I decided to talk to Landon tonight. Regardless of the outcome—closure for me or more pain for him—I hoped the truth would count for something.
    Instead, when the moment came, I tripped all over my words. Landon’s larger-than-life and had the upper hand from the outset. Instead of staying on topic, I took offense at something he said. I can hardly remember now, something about a man’s world, and when I tried to set him straight, he cut me to the floor with a few harsh words.
    So here I am once again, driving fast through the night on a rain-slicked road, away from yet another argument with Landon. And as he has so many times before, Rudy has come along to calm my explosive temper. He is smiling slightly at my ranting. Sometimes I think he finds me entertaining.
    The hum of tires kissing asphalt through water soothes my anxious heart. “I don’t know why I let him roll over me like that, Rude.”
    “You handled yourself just fine. I thought you showed remarkable restraint.”
    “But not enough.”
    “Okay, not enough.” Truth does not make Rudy flinch. My car follows a downward slope onto a bridge, pointing me east into Austin.
    “Underneath it all, Dad worries about you, you know.”
    I look at Rudy. No, no I didn’t know. Just as Rudy doesn’t