"I think it's good that you're releasing some tension," Linda tells me as the waitress fills our water glasses. We're having lunch outside. The weather is beautiful, and although the heat from the sun is intense, the umbrella beside our table creates a shady solace.
I shrug.
"You like to keep things inside of you, don't you?" Linda says as she takes a sip of her water.
"It's not that," I tell her as I take a bite of my salad. "It's just that I'm trying to move forward. I can't go back to that place, it's too...traumatic. It would debilitate me."
"I see," says Linda with all the wisdom of Obi Wan. She crosses her fingers in front of her and places her chin on her knuckles.
"You realize," she continues "that you won't be able to fully move forward until you lay to rest what has happened in the past?"
I nod. She's not telling me anything that I don't know.
We sit in silence for a moment.
"You know," Linda finally says, "A lot of people are afraid to face the things that have hurt them because they fear that if they go back to that memory, that all the raw emotions will encapsulate them."
"Like a hangover?" I say with a smirk on my face.
Linda gives me a smile, "So you do pay attention."
"I listen," I tell her. "Just because I'm too hungover to fully engage in a conversation, doesn't mean that I'm not hearing what you're saying."
"Alright then," she tells me as she uncrosses her fingers and slaps her legs with enthusiasm, "It's time for you to do a detox."
"A detox?" I ask. I'm pretty sure we're still speaking in metaphors.
"Yep. You need to lay to rest the thing that is upsetting you, so that you can survive it -- not be a victim to it," she tells me as she stands with purpose.
Have I been playing the victim?
Linda stands beside the table for a few seconds before I clue in.
"Like, right now?" I ask her.
"Absolutely," she tells me and reaches out her hand.
I let Linda help me out of the chair, and we begin to walk across the resort grounds towards the parking lot.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"I think I know the perfect person who can help you," she tells me as we draw closer to her truck. I see Consuela sitting in the back of the pickup like a good little immigrant, and so, as I hop into the passenger seat I feel slightly invigorated. Empowered.
"Thank you," I tell her as we drive away from the resort.
Linda gives me a warm smile and simply says, "We all need to help each other every now and then. Besides, I love this sort of stuff."
I have no idea exactly what Linda has in mind, but if it makes me less susceptible to the Caballos Demonios then I'm all for it. At this point I trust Linda. She's good people.
Linda is right.
Right?
