This Time Could Be Different by Khristin Wierman

Author:Khristin Wierman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SparkPress

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Madeline’s feet pounded along the dirt path as Green Day’s “Horseshoes and Handgrenades” roared in her ears. She’d started running along this trail a few weeks before. But today she wasn’t paying attention to the sunlight cascading through the dark trees or the smell of fresh leaves.

“I think you might also want to examine how anger fits into your stories,” Olivia had said cryptically after they’d made no progress on Madeline’s issues with having what she wanted.

Madeline had felt herself stiffen.

“Anger can be scary.”

Madeline’s body tightened even more. “I’m not afraid of it.”

“Were you allowed to safely express anger as a child?”

Madeline studied the sandbox.

“Anger is information. Usually, to alert you that someone is invading your space somehow, forcing a story onto you that’s in opposition to who you really are.” Olivia seemed to pause to let that sink in. “When we’re allowed to express anger—when it’s allowed to move and we’re able to keep our story, our boundaries intact—the anger sails away, leaving us feeling lighter. When it’s trapped, it festers. And flares up at the smallest things.”

Madeline continued to stare at the sand.

“The only way to deal with anger is to face it and move through it to find out what it’s covering.”

Madeline’s incredulous eyes had finally met Olivia’s.

“Anger often sits on top of feelings far more painful.”

Madeline was suddenly sick of this conversation.

“Like grief. Or shame,” Olivia continued serenely as if Madeline wasn’t scowling at her. “Anger is far more acceptable than those feelings. And much easier to bear.”

Now running along the path, with words from her deceased grandmother looping through her mind, Madeline was finally beginning to understand what Olivia meant.

“Why would you want to do that?” Gran’s martyred voice whined—when Madeline, at sixteen, finally put down the violin for the last time.

Madeline could hear those words as she saw her nineteen-year-old self declining the semester abroad program in Italy, a professor had invited her to join. And at twenty-four, turning down the job offer to help open that bank’s first office in London.

Why would you want to do that? Why would you want that? What’s the matter with you?

Sweat and anger poured out of Madeline, fueled by an outcry of guitars, drums, and Billie Joe Armstrong’s incongruously melodic voice.

Another memory came—Emma squatting next to Penelope, who had slowed to a molasses-like pace as they walked through the zoo. Pen couldn’t have been more than seven.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Emma had asked, searching Penelope’s face. “Do you want to go see the monkeys, or would you rather go home?” Madeline had never understood the strange wave of sadness that had washed through her as Pen whispered, “Home,” and Emma smiled and led them toward the exit.

Until now.

Madeline ran harder.

At the top of the hill, Madeline threw herself into a eucalyptus tree, her lungs screaming. She rested her forehead against the soft bark and inhaled the sweet, peppery scent, feeling like something had broken inside her.

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