Learn to love again.
And the journey waits for no one
If no one breaks the mould
And our hearts are stronger
Than we know
That you and I could learn to love again
After all this time
Maybe that is how I knew you were the one
That you could still believe in me again after all our trials
Maybe that is how I knew you were the one
Learn To Love Again- Lawson.
She wasn't ready for this.
She knew she wasn't ready for this, and yet here she was sitting in the passenger seat of her best friends car, staring at the non descript building in front of her, her stomach churning uneasily, her head pounding. Her nails dug into her wrists, the sharp scratches soothing her nerves as she let out a shaky breath, wishing she could just crawl back into bed and sleep the world away like she had been doing for the last few months.
But her friends and family had other plans.
She mentally scolded them for making her do this- why couldn't they just let her wallow in her own self pity for just a while longer? It was her life after all, she could live it ( or not as the case may be) however she goddamn likes.
It had only been nine months after all.
Stuart had only been gone for nine months and Donna was sure, in fact she was certain, that nine months wasn't an adequate period of time to mourn the death of her husband, to accept that the man she committed herself to for the rest of her life was gone forever. After all, it wasn't as if she was ever going to wake up one morning and be okay with the fact that she was alone in the world, and the love of her life was dead.
But as far as her mom and best friend Carla were concerned it was about time she stopped existing and started living again, and that's when they suggested therapy. Donna had never be adverse to the idea of therapy, it helped a lot of people, it clearly had its purpose, but a public counseling group for individuals who have lost a spouse? She wasn't convinced. It was one thing, sitting in a room with a shrink, laying down on a couch as you tell them all your wordily problems, but it was another telling complete strangers the story of the most painful thing to ever happen to you.
But here she was, against her will, ready to do just that. "I can come in with you if you want..." Carla spoke up from beside her, giving her a reassuring smile.
Donna scoffed out a laugh, shaking her head as she tore her gaze away from the building, aimlessly looking at the people walking across the car park. "No, I think there's going to be enough crazy in there without adding you into the mix."
"Well I can at least wait for you? Give you a ride home?" she tried, desperate to get any form of positive response from her friend, missing the sassy, sarcastic red haired wonder.
"It's not that far Carla" you assure her "I'll walk. I'm not going to break in to a million pieces if I see a happy couple walking past me on the street, I'm a big girl."
Carla sighed in defeat, throwing her hands up in surrender "Okay" she breathed, turning herself in her chair to look at the red head "If you change your mind, give me a call, okay?" Donna nodded "and don't run out of the building as soon as you see my car pull away."
She cracked a smile as Donna rolled her eyes "Don't worry I wont try and reenact the Great Escape, you're good." It had crossed her mind though.
"Good" she nodded curtly. "Now go" she shooed with a flick of the hands "and good luck"
Donna grabbed her Kate Spade purse as she exited the car, the cool autumnal breeze making her silently wish she brought a jacket with her as her legs dragged her body across the length of the car park. The inside of the community Centre reminded her of an old classroom: an array of different coloured chairs scattered about the place; fliers promoting various classes and courses pinned up on the walls, but it was the large sign in black and white scrawl that made her stomach flip.
'Spouse Grief Counseling- Main Hall.'
"Fabulous" she muttered to herself, inhaling deeply as she walked through the corridors towards the hall, surprised at how full it was. Sure, this was New York City and not some small town in the middle of Wisconsin, but it still rendered her speechless at how many people had turned up to the Centre in Brooklyn.
She expected to feel instantly out of place, thinking that she would have been surrounded by a group of people in their 60's or 70's grieving over the loss of their loved ones as a result of long term illness or natural causes, but she was wrong. Damn, she was really wrong. A frown formed on her lips as she noticed one girl sitting in the corner, who couldn't have been no older than 25 clutching an army medal between her hands. "Damn" she muttered to herself, a little overwhelmed by all the faces of grief surrounding her.
Taking a seat in the middle of the room, Donna sunk into the chair, wrapping her chunky knit cardigan around herself as a middle aged woman with frizzy blonde hair entered the room, a wide smile on her face. "Good morning!" she exclaimed looking around the group, eyeing out the new members "As most of you know, I'm Gloria, and I run this counseling session with the hope that together we can overcome the pain and grief associated to losing a spouse and learn to move on with our lives."
Donna already hated the woman. Her chirpy voice, the clashing patterns of her dress and cardigan, her... "Ugh" Donna said to herself, shaking off her bitchy, negative thoughts.
She sat silently as she invited a member of the group up to talk about their story and their progress, watching the woman as she nodded intently, eyes narrowed as the man spoke about losing his wife to a sudden brain haemorrhage six weeks prior. Donna found herself rolling her eyes as the group leader clapped overenthusiastically, praising the man for being so open with his struggles, telling him that it was okay to cry. She knew it was okay to cry, after all, Donna had cried her fair share of rivers over the last few months, but the woman's overly chirpy and patronising tone, only rubbed her up the wrong way even more.
"I bet she has never got laid, let alone had the chance to grieve for a spouse" a voice muttered from behind her, causing a small, amused smile to tug at Donna's lips. At least one person here had a sense of humour and didn't look like they were about to throw themselves off of a cliff.
She kept her eyes focused on the front of the room, watching the clock as the seconds ticked by, zoning out as the intolerably nasally woman picked out another widow from the group, asking them to share their depressing story. Donna was knocked out of her daze as the sound of a chair screeching behind her caught her attention, a dark haired male coming into her peripheral vision as he walked towards the front of the group, his head hung low. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she narrowed her eyes at the man, noticing something somewhat familiar about his posture, about the way he held himself, despite hiding his face, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
She leant back into the uncomfortable plastic chair as the man ran a hand through his disheveled hair, slowly raising his head to look at the group. Donna sucked in a breath, a quiet gasp escaping her lips as she caught sight of his face, shock rendering her body motionless as she stared in disbelief.
It couldn't be...It just couldn't.
She felt sick. A wave of nausea washing over her as she felt her pulse quicken, a bead of sweat slipping down her forehead.
And then it clicked, that voice she had heard cracking that joke in poor taste only moments before had sounded strangely familiar.
It had been years since she had last seen him or heard his voice...it had been years since the very sight of him made her heart pound against her chest like it was doing so now. A feeling that since Stuart's death had only been associated with grief and panic. He looked the same, but older, the decade that had passed since the last time they had seen and worked together at the District Attorney's office, showing around his eyes.
She gulped as the realization hit her, a wave of sadness washing over her because if he was here, it could only be for the same reason she was. She wanted to run, her mind screaming at her body to move, to find the nearest exit and get the hell out, but she remained frozen, mouth open, eyes wide.
The man's eyes scanned the room, his words coming out on a stutter as his gaze fell on Donna, recognising her instantly, his expression mirroring hers.
"I'm Harvey Specter, and I lost my wife six months ago."
Bonjour- so I'm reposting this as I have edited it, changed a few things around! Let me know if you like it and would like me to carry on with the story. peaceeeee x