Religious Rehab: A Memoir by Todd Maxwell Preston

Author:Todd Maxwell Preston [Preston, Todd Maxwell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Awakened Healing
Published: 2016-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

My ex had a new boyfriend, who happened to be a prior patient of mine. I arrived at my old house shirtless and wooly, my locks well over my ears. Sophie gave me a running hug and my ex told me to put a shirt on. Her new boyfriend was lounging on the bed I had purchased just over a year earlier.

The scene was strange, but I was only there to see the girls. We played on the swings in the backyard and acted like it was old times. Sophie asked if I would buy a house nearby because she wanted to live with me. Chloe told me about her new rock and how she could see nature for the first time. The sun was high in the sky with scattered clouds ambling overhead.

I looked back toward the deck and noticed my ex sitting on her boyfriend’s lap watching us. They looked to be in love, but time would balance the truth. Six months later he would end up stalking her and refuse to end the relationship. My ex recruited her family and told me of a few details after the fact. Ironically, Chloe had told me how much she disliked him and the energy he brought into their home. She would prove to be spot on.

I kissed my girl’s goodbye and promised them a park date with a Frisbee. Leaving was never easy: in fact, it was harder each time I left. The longing look in their innocent eyes crushed me. In the moment, I blocked my emotions so I could live with myself. Looking back all these years later I was a mess. I wavered between wanting to live and die.

My good friend Sheila was throwing a party at her house. I had a small circle of friends in Ogden that were not Mormon or that still were but no longer wanted to be. Sheila invited me over and I readily agreed. When I arrived, her house was overflowing with people. The front yard had a few of her son’s friends sitting on the curb, smoking cigarettes.

When I entered I slowly bumped and ducked my way to the kitchen. Sheila gave me a big drunken kiss on the cheek and a hug. I hadn’t seen her in months. Her children were late teens and they knew me well enough to give me a hug. Her son, Tyson, looked like a white Bob Marley. He could roll a joint with one hand. I had spent many evenings at Sheila’s, drinking well into the night. She had been my massage therapist for years before my divorce. In fact, my councilor, Larry, at the local university was referred by Sheila.

Sheila was the party girl that kept everyone together within the group. I loved her energy and her free-flowing style. Her children reflected that freedom. Sheila was only about five feet two inches tall but larger than life. When it came to a party, she was the party. I grabbed some food and a mixed drink that Sheila had thrust into my hand.

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