His Series, Book Three

Books by Mariah Dietz

His Series

Becoming His

Losing Her

Finding Me

I came here to escape. Leave the debris and avoid the inevitable truths.

Things are better.

Worse.

Different.

I’m finding me, but in the process I fear I’m forgetting those I have left, and the ones who have left me. Maybe I’m losing who I was.

Can I forget my past and move forward?

Can I forget him?

We are rarely prepared to face our biggest fears, yet many bravely do each and every day. This is for you..

And for my husband and boys, you are and always will be my greatest achievement. I love you too.

“I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.”

–Edgar Allan Poe

“Time will always pass, but sometimes you forget to pay attention until it’s too late.”

–Dr. Kitty Clarke

I’ve experienced moments where I knew as they were occurring, I would be able to remember them for the rest of my life. Moments like lying in bed beside Max, watching his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths, or the gleam in my dad’s eyes as we readied our soap cars in preparation of our first soap box race. I can still remember the look of love and sincerity on my brother-in-law Kyle’s face as I stood beside my sisters and he promised to love my oldest sister, Mindi, for all of time.

My brain has so many memories I actively work to suppress that it no longer seems to function for any intellectual purpose, just as a dark cave chock-full of images I work to avoid because if I face them, I don’t know that I’ll be able to get back out.

Unfortunately, memories appear from a single scent, taste, sound, image, or touch. They’re all so deeply imbedded in me that something as simple as the sight of a particular pen will catch me off guard when I realize it’s the same kind my dad had always used. Did I know a year ago he had always carried the same blue pens with him? Memories are funny that way, like time, they sneak up on you—it’s inevitable.

When my mom brought to light my own fears about Max moving forward, I knew I needed to escape, I just didn’t know where, not until a card came loose when I finally pulled my phone out of my purse one day. I had been leaving it on silent to avoid the constant ringing and vibrating because I was sick and tired of hearing people ask if I was okay. The ironic part was that as much as I hated answering that question, most people never seemed all that interested in my actual response.

I set my phone aside to pick up the business card that had floated to the floor. There was a number scrawled across the back in nearly illegible handwriting, along with the name Ben. I could hardly recall seeing Ben, let alone having a conversation with him, which was kind of a shame. He and my dad had been roommates their freshman year of college and then continued on to medical school together. Though I had mostly seen him from the cover of Christmas cards that he graced along with his wife and their daughter, Emily, I had enjoyed him the few times that we’d met in person.

Mather’s Science and Technology. I stared at the name of the company embossed across the front of the card. He had started the business several years ago after moving to the East Coast. It was late and I hadn’t been sleeping much, so I went online and started reading through his company website. Entranced, I sought any articles that had been written about the company. All my life I’d wanted to help people, and here was this company focused on researching medical cures without the aid of medicine. And it wasn’t financially supported by a drug company, something that was about as common as finding a seashell in a forest. Thoughts began blooming in my mind, covering ugly fears and insecurities and replacing them with possibilities. A new start.

Science to Improve Life. That was their motto. Not overly catchy or life altering in itself, but it led me down a path that seemed impossible to turn away from.

I stayed up all night researching how far it was to Delaware and the best route to drive. I made a list of things to bring and what I needed to do. Then I began looking for an apartment online and schools in the vicinity. When it was a respectable hour on the East Coast, I called Ben. He was polite, but I heard the reluctance in his voice at the potential of me coming to work for him. I offered to volunteer, thinking he wouldn’t say no to free labor. Apparently either my overly ambitious attitude, or perhaps guilt from having seen me cry a sea of tears at my father’s funeral, made him accept even though I didn’t have a degree or even a declared major. He even tied a small salary to the position he offered me.

I was relieved. Things were falling into place so easily.

It seemed like kismet.

Saying goodbye was hard, but nothing like what it would have been a few months prior. I think my heart had gone into full self-preservation mode, allowing me to part from everyone without really considering their emotions. That, or maybe I was just becoming immune to them all after the emotional-packed month I had experienced. Maybe both.

The comfort I’d been seeking with moving out here, away from having to watch Max move forward and seeing the house that held memories of both my dad and Max lurking around every corner, away from the cemetery where my father now rests that made me break out in chills and heaving sobs the few times I’d passed it before leaving, wasn’t nearly as attainable as I’d hoped. The walls of my apartment close in on me a little more each day, and the nice weather that had offered some solace vanished before October arrived. My fingers and toes are now constantly freezing as the month of November dawns.

The weather had begun changing in September. Cooler breezes and chilly nights turned into frost-covered windows and an icy parking lot each morning, making running outside feel like a medieval torture method. Begrudgingly, I joined a gym.

Snow flurries are forecasted for the entire week. A small part of me is excited, hoping it will break this endless cycle of gray that I’ve been drowning in for several weeks now.

I pull on some sweats and shove work clothes and my Converse sneakers in a bag and make for the parking lot.

Two girls slip in before me at the gym. They’re giggling about something, wearing their Spandex pants and sports bras even with the cold temperatures. Their hair and makeup is already complete, and a wave of their perfume hits me as they pull open the doors.

It feels like I’m in a bar rather than the gym, as I watch them scour the large space to determine where they’re going to work out based upon the few guys that are here this morning.

Once my bag’s stored in the locker room of the gym and my shoes are tied, I head out and grab some wipes for the treadmill at the far end of the line. Working in a science lab, I know all about the germs that are bred in places like this.