Finding Anna

Christmas is my favorite holiday, but I planned to never celebrate again. Anyone who had been abducted and held by domestic terrorists, might not be in a festive mood, even in the most joyous of seasons. 

My phone beeped again, and I deleted yet another message. My email had never been this full, flooded with words of appreciation and support, along with requests from media outlets and advocacy groups to “share my experience with others.” But what about the women who were actually tortured and subjected to experimentation? How could they want me to speak for them, as if I knew about those horrific experiences? I was rescued, which led to the discovery of the plot and the victims, including my best friend, but I was neither a victim nor a hero. 

  After my release from the hospital, I only left home for long early morning runs. I spent afternoons and evenings reading and sipping mugs of chai or hot chocolate in my room, while Mom and Jen rewatched their favorite sappy holiday films. Late at night, Jen would bring my favorite sugar cookies or buttery scones and climb under the covers the way we did when we were younger. I appreciated her company, but I preferred solitude.

After one sleepless night, the cloying scents of vanilla and butter lured me to the kitchen. My sister sifted flour into our old stand mixer, and my mother placed a tray of muffins in the oven.

  “Want to help?” Mom asked.

"I just came to watch y’all work. It smells wonderful here.” I slumped into a chair at the end of the counter beside Jen’s prep station.

   Mom sat across from me and set the timer on her phone. “I know it’s early, but there’s some tomato basil soup and croutons in the fridge, Anna.”

    I nodded. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not really hungry. “

    She placed her warm hand on top of mine. “I heard you in the living room last night. Do you need something to help you sleep?”

  “I don't know what’s wrong with me.” Tears I didn't know I was holding back slid down my cheek.

  Jenny dropped the sifter on the counter and embraced me. “Anna bear, we love you so much. You’re safe here.”

   “I can’t forget what happened. I don't think I’m gonna make it.”

    “But you did, Anna. You saved those other women, and you survived.” Mom reached over, but I moved my hand away before she could hold it. Her full lips became a flat line.

   The tree branches whipped against the window. It sounded crazy outside, but I needed to feel the cold wind on my face, hear the leaves whirling on the pavement, anything but this.

“You need to talk to someone.” Mom eased an arm around my shoulder. 

"I'm not crazy!"

Jenny sighed. "Anna, no one thinks you're crazy."

"You need to express your feelings, and I think you need to talk to someone about what happened to you." Mom reached for my hand again.

Every time they spoke to me this way, I wanted to crawl out of my damn skin. “I need to talk to someone?! Why? You certainly never did." 

     Jenny retreated to the corner, a puzzled look on her face. Mom moved a step closer, lips a thin line. “What are you talking about Anna?” 

   I could barely stand now. “You can’t even say his name, can you?”

Mom’s eyes widened. “I don’t think about that stuff with your father, and how dare you-”

“I’m talking about Daniel. Your son! You do remember him, don’t you?”

Mom gasped, and Jenny hustled around the counter between us.

“Of course she hasn’t forgotten Danny, Anna. None of us have.” 

I swept my hand over the mantle. “Where are all of the photos of him? It's like he never existed!”

Mom perched on a stool, eyes downcast and shoulders heaving.

I walked back to the kitchen. “Are you even crying?”

“Just stop, Anna. Would you, please? Her voice was the softest whisper. 

“Well, why don’t you stop, Mom? Stop acting like this family isn’t broken. And I’m sick of you making me the one to fix it all!”

Jenny reached over to touch my shoulder. “Who said it’s up to you to fix us, Anna?”

 Before I lost complete control, I jogged out the back door. The icy wind stung my damp cheeks and eyes.

 I was too weak to run laps, so I leaned against the oak in the front yard. A memory floated back of Danny when he followed me up this tree and fell off its lowest branch. Luckily, Dad caught Danny and broke the lens of the camera draped over his shoulder. Then, we tossed leaves at each other, laughing and tumbling around in the yard until we were breathless. 

I turned when I heard crunching leaves. My mother had my coat draped across her arm, which she handed me a minute later. Jenny followed, carrying my favorite mug in one hand and one of her snowflake cookies wrapped in a napkin in the other one. 

 “Thanks, y’all.”

   Mom nodded and Jen linked her arm inside mine. “Here,” is all she said. 

   I took a tiny bite of cookie and sipped the spicy sweet cider.

  Tears lingered in Mom’s eyes.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier, Mom.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s just, I can’t be what you want anymore.”

“OK, I understand that. I know I’ve leaned on you a lot these last few years, and I appreciate everything you’ve done to take care of us when I was working so much.”

“But you had to, Mom.”

Mom sighed and smiled. “What will you do now, Anna?”

      “I don’t know. But I never wanted medicine as my career.”

 Jenny perked up. “Mom, Anna’s a writer, you know that.”

 Mom looked from Jenny back to me. “Why wouldn’t you want to help people doing that?”

 “Because I don’t want to do that!” I said, louder than I had intended. 

 “Then write, but don’t give up because of what happened to you, Anna.”

 “Why do you feel I should do this, Mom?”

 She exhaled slowly. “You are brilliant, and you can help others with what you can do.”

 “I don’t love it like you do, Mom. And after all this, do you think I could ever trust anyone in the medical community? A nurse did this to me!” I pulled my coat sleeve to uncover the dark bruises from the injection sites.

Mom pulled me closer. “I’m a nurse, and I would never do that to someone in my care. Those people were not healers, and they’re all going to prison for what they did to you.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor, Mom. I’m not sure what I want to do yet, but it isn’t caring for people the way you do, and it never will be.” I was running on fumes now, but I was glad to finally say it.

She stared into my eyes. “I guess I thought you could be the one.”

“What one, Mom?

Tears slid down her face. “The one that could have saved Danny.” 

“No one could have saved him.” 

A few minutes later, Jen appeared with a box of tissues, her eyes wet and red as well. “Here,” she said, handing me one.

"Maybe I do."

"Do what, Anna?"

"I should speak to someone about everything." Jenny patted my arm, and Mom kissed my forehead.

"I'll be back."

"Anna, don't you want something else to eat first?"

I shook my head. "I'm just walking, not far."

It was really cold, yet everything seemed fresher and lighter. For the first time since I'd been home, I could breathe. 

When I made it back to my room, my phone was chirping again.

“Anna?” Emily said.

“I’m here.” 

“Anna, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m a mess.” This was new. I was usually the one who listened to her woes. 

“Anna, how was your holiday?”

 “OK, I guess. How’s yours been?”

“Christmas was great. I’m sending you something, OK?” I pictured the smile on her face as she spoke.

“I didn’t get you anything,” I said.

“You saved me, Anna. You’re a hero.”

I held the phone, doing everything to quell the tide of new tears that wanted to fall.

“Are you still there, babe?”

“Yes. It’s so good to talk to you, Em. I was going crazy here until I read your message earlier.”

 “School will start again soon. Everything will be better when we get back,” Emily said. 

 “I don’t know if I’m going back to campus, Em.” 

 “Anna, I’ve been speaking to a therapist several times a week, and it’s helping a lot”, Emily said.

 “You sound like my mother.” 

 “She’s right, Anna,” Emily said.

“Maybe, I don't know.”

 “You can, Anna. You owe it to yourself. You have to be the person you’re meant to be."

 “If only I knew how to do that, Em.”

“Anna, you love to write. So, try this. My therapist has me keeping a gratitude journal.”

“A what? Like a damn diary?”

Emily chuckled. “If that’s how you see it.”

I hadn’t kept a journal since middle school when Jenny stole it and presented me with a list of demands, or she would show it to Mom. Needless to say, I threw my diary out after I did Jen’s chores for a week.

“How does it help, Em?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, I make a list each morning of three things for which I’m grateful. Then, at the end of the day, I reread my list and add one thing.”

That didn’t seem like a lot of work. “Well, maybe I’ll try it.”

I’d heard that word a lot, before my ordeal. Gratitude. During our Thanksgiving dinners years ago, we would each give thanks for something that happened that year. I was always the last of the three of us, being the eldest, and I would quickly name so our parents could go and we’d eat. But Dad always held up progress, with his long-winded speeches. Of course, after Danny’s diagnosis and the breakup of our family in the wake of his death a couple of years later, that tradition, and others like it, ended. 

I brushed away the tears on my cheek. Danny would have turned 17 this year.

“Anna? Are you still there?” Emily’s voice pitched up a bit. 

I exhaled slowly. “Sorry, Em. Listen, I need to go. Jenny needs me.”

“Happy New Year, Anna, if we don’t talk again before then.”

I smiled. “I’m glad you called. And thanks in advance for the gift. Enjoy the holiday, Emily.”

I crawled under the covers after I turned off my phone. I missed my dad and Danny so much, but the memories hurt a little less than usual. I’d finally come clean with Mom, though I had no idea where I would go from here. 

The next morning, I stretched and rubbed grit from my eyes. I didn’t feel like running, so I sat under the window in Eagle Pose. 

“Hey, we’re going to get some new ornaments for next year’s tree, wanna come?” Jenny draped herself against the doorway, angel-like in her new white sweater. 

 I pulled my knees to my chest and shook my head. “Gonna read and have some tea later. Thanks.” Jenny waved and disappeared.

The light dusting of snow had melted, and the sun looked perfect, probably ideal conditions. But I had some work to do. With the kettle on, I leaned at the counter to search for an article on the importance of gratitude in healing. The phrases “improve sleep and mood”, and “finding success and happiness” jumped out. Even if none of these happened, it was worth a try, for at least a few days.

I carried my steaming mug to the table and opened the Notes app on my phone and typed: I’m grateful for my younger sister who’s always been my (nosy) best friend and my rock. I’m grateful for vanilla chai tea on a Winter morning. 

I can’t say I felt better instantly, but I did when my phone chirped. Do you need anything while we’re out, Bear? The tears seemed to spill out so easily these days. I mopped my damp face and then replied: Nothing I can think of, but thanks for asking, Jen ❤️🧸

After that first day, my lists were only one or two lines of superficial stuff. Eventually, I began to write longer entries about what happened to me, and how I was grateful for the strength to survive. I wasn’t a hero, but I had done a desperate thing that saved a lot of people.

Emily’s package arrived a few days after New Year’s, and I couldn’t stop smiling that night. Inside a huge box was a smaller one with my nickname, Anna-bear written on top. Her gift was a teddy bear with a red cape emblazoned with an A, a note attached to its paw,  “A soft, tiny hero for the big one”.  It was the best gift I’d ever received.

In February, I took Jen’s advice to speak with one of the journalists who had contacted me. Tara had a friend who worked for an independent journal interested in my story. I donated the bulk of the funds I earned for my piece to a women’s health group, and I used the remainder for my own online therapy.

“You insist you’re not a hero, Anna. but do this for me. Use your dictionary app, if you have one, to search for the definition of hero.” Sarah was about eight years older than me and became a true friend.

“OK. Is this homework?” I chuckled. 

“No, Anna. I want you to see something for yourself."

A few minutes later, I pulled up the MW app on my phone and read aloud each entry, before I stopped.

“Anna, are you still there?”

“Sorry. I’m still here.”

Sarah smiled. “Go ahead, read the next one.”

Beside 1d, I read the last citation. “One who shows great courage.”

“Anna, you’ve chosen to seek help, and not just for what happened to you last year,” Sarah said.

“I know.”

“And you’ve chosen for yourself, not what your mother wants, not what you think you should do. But what you need for yourself.” Sarah held her palm out, as if she were reaching for me through the screen.

“Anna, you’re not responsible for being abducted, or for what happened to your little brother. Sometimes, shit happens, and it’s no one’s fault or job to fix it.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Sarah.”

“You’re quite welcome, Anna. But I think you have an addition to your list tonight, someone else, a real hero, for whom you should be eternally grateful, don’t you think?’

I shrugged. “Maybe I do.”