The Door Between Us (Chapter 3)
When the past calls, will you have the courage to answer? Some doors, once opened, can never be closed.
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📖 Foreword | Intro | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Maybe that’s why I’ve spent my whole life longing for a sign. And now, suddenly, impossibly—it feels like I’ve found one. But nothing could have prepared me for what Chris was about to say next.
“We need to talk.”
The words land heavier than I expect, like a door opening to a room neither of us was ready to walk into yet. But here we are.
“Was that real?” I ask, my voice a little quieter than I’d like. “Do you remember talking to my mom?”
Chris’s eyes search mine for something, answers, maybe, or confirmation that we’re both experiencing the same impossible thing. “Yes,” he says quietly. “And I could feel you there too. But then… you weren’t.”
“Dr. Claire woke me up,” I say, my voice cracking a little. My throat feels dry. His brow furrows in confusion. “During my EMDR session. We were in the middle of a memory… I couldn’t push through it, so I brought in my ‘resource.’ You. And then, somehow… you were actually there. In my memory. But you weren’t a memory. You were actually there.”
“Okay… I need you to walk me through this. How does EMDR work again?”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Imagine you have a wound on your hand. Your body knows how to heal it, automatically. But if something keeps irritating that wound, the healing stops. It gets stuck.
EMDR is kind of like that, but for your mind. Emotional trauma… it lingers, gets stuck. EMDR helps unlock those memories, so your brain can process them. Claire and I start by identifying those stuck memories—ones tied to grief, fear, or loss. Then, she teaches me coping techniques for the emotions that surface.
During the actual session, I focus on those painful memories while following a light bar with my eyes, back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. It sounds simple, but it’s powerful. It activates this processing mechanism in my brain. And sometimes, when a memory is hard for me to get through, I bring in resources, people who ground me, like you. You’re my anchor in those moments.”
Chris listens, absorbing every word. “And this memory… the one with your mom? It was one of the hard ones you’ve been working on?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “When I was little, I had this… fear that my mom would die, without me. I was convinced we had to leave this world together. And so it was a nightly ritual for me to basically beg her to wait for me.”
Chris blinks, taken aback. “That’s… a pretty dark thought for a five-year-old.”
“I know,” I say with a half-laugh, trying to lighten the weight of the memory. “But I had two older brothers who loved horror movies way too much, and I soaked up every nightmare scenario like a sponge.”
“So, during that session, your mom found a way to connect with me because you brought me into the memory?”
“That’s what it seems like,” I say. “Although, let’s be honest, it’s not like I have a degree in ‘supernatural grief therapy.’”
Chris smirks. “Even with one, I doubt this would make any more sense. What was that thing you always said in college?”
I grin. “C’s get degrees, baby.”
We both laugh, a small, needed release from the tension that’s been weighing down the air around us.
Then his expression shifts. “Your mom mentioned… ‘we.’ And when I asked who ‘we’ was, she said it was her, your grandmothers, and… God. Do you think that’s true?”
I hesitate, but deep down, I know the answer. “Yes. I do.”
Chris’s eyes soften. “Why now? Why is this happening after all these years?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice small. “Maybe it’s something I’ll only understand when this journey ends.”
Chris leans back, running his hands through his beard. “Alright, so we’re following the rules your mom laid out. I’m the one who has to step into these… dreams, memories, whatever they are. And you only get ten questions to ask her or memories to relive with her.”
“Yeah.” The word feels heavy—like those ten moments might never be enough. In reality, they will never be enough. I immediately try to reframe my mind. This is an extraordinary chance that I’ve been given—I need to be grateful.
“What’s going through your mind right now?” he asks gently.
I sigh, the ache in my chest growing heavier with every breath. “It’s not just about my mom anymore. She said my grandma and great-grandma want to be there too. And I never even got to meet them. They both died before I was born. I don’t even know what their voices sound like. And now, somehow, I might get the chance to hear them, but through you.”
I pause for a moment, the weight of it crashing down onto me like a wave.
“I’ve only known the absence of my grandmothers through stories and the voids they left behind. The thought of finally having faces, voices, and laughter to associate with their names stirs up so many emotions inside me.
My great-grandma, with her colorful history of nine marriages—Elizabeth Taylor, who?—has always been this almost mythical figure, shrouded in the mist of past tales. And my grandma… People in Pleasantville still recognize me, even now. They’ll stop and share a story about her like it happened just yesterday. She left an imprint on that town, one that’s still felt today.”
Chris reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “Isn’t that special, though? A chance to connect with them, even in the smallest way?”
“Yeah, but what if it hurts more?” I whisper. “What if meeting them—finally hearing their voices—makes the loss even worse when they’re gone again?”
A silence stretches between us, thick with all the what-ifs neither of us can answer.
Chris doesn’t push. He just holds my hand tighter.
“And then there’s my mom…” I say, my voice breaking. “It’s been decades, but a part of me still waits for her to walk through the door. Or to call. Or to hope for a hug when I’ve had a rough few days. I’ve spent my whole life looking for signs from her. I just… I don’t know if I’m ready to lose her all over again.”
“You won’t lose her again,” Chris says, voice steady. “She never left you. You carry her with you every day. And no memory, no goodbye, can take that away.”
I swallow hard, brushing away the tears streaking down my face. “If you were in my place, would you do this? Would you take the chance?”
Chris pauses, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I would.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Okay. I want to see them. Even if it hurts. I know it’ll be worth it.”
Chris nods, quiet understanding filling the space between us. “Okay. Then we’ll do this together.”
I manage a small smile, feeling lighter—like maybe, just maybe, I’m strong enough to face whatever comes next.
“But how do we even start?” I ask. “How do we find her again?”
Chris looks at me, something warm and steady in his eyes. “I already said yes,” he says softly. “I told her we’re ready. I told her that you’re ready.”
And just like that, the decision isn’t mine alone. It’s ours. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid to take the next step forward.
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