Copyright © 2014 by TRACI MARIE BROWER

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For more information, contact: Crystal Spirit Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 12506, Durham, NC 27709. www.crystalspiritinc.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental

Brower, Traci Marie.

The chrysalis diaries : a tale of inspiration from the most unlikely place / Traci Marie Brower..—First Crystal Spirit Publishing, Inc. edition, October 2014..—Durham, NC : Crystal Spirit Publishing, Inc., [2014]

pages ; cm.

ISBN: 978-0-9904556-4-6

ISBN: 9780990455653

Summary: This inspirational, romantic novel is a testament to love, kindness, and being present in the moment, and to the power of these to transform an individual, and, perhaps, even save a life.—Publisher.

1. Change (Psychology).—Fiction. 2. Love.—Fiction. 3. Kindness.—Fiction. 4. Altruism.—Fiction. 5. Happiness.—Fiction. 6. Conduct of life.—Fiction. 7. Spiritual life.—Fiction. I. Title

Edited by AUTUMN J. CONLEY

Cover Design by GLENDA D. WARREN

Interior Design by ARC MANOR, LLC.

First Crystal Spirit Publishing, Inc. Edition: October 2014

For Worldwide Distribution

Published by Crystal Spirit Publishing, Inc.

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my sister Margaret, who has always believed in me and supported my writing, even when no one else did. The day you were born was the best day of my life. I made sure to be the best person I could, in order to be a good role model for you; now that you are a grown woman, you are my role model. Thank you for always being there for me. I love you, sis.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my husband Craig for showing me the meaning of happiness and making every day a little brighter.

I would also like to thank my mother Carol for always showing me love and kindness and my father Joseph for inspiring me to have hope and faith.

Preface

I am writing this book because I know what it is like to be depressed and alone. It takes a lot to pull oneself out of a very dark place and find the light again. After going through a stage of hating the world around me, I found happiness by opening my heart and mind to others in need. Through this process, and despite all those who had let me down in the past, I was able to regain faith in humanity.

I truly believe this book will make a difference in the world and change the way we all think about one another. Examples of random acts of kindness in today’s literature and media are long overdue. There is something so satisfying about watching a person’s face turn from sad to happy, knowing you helped them make a change in their life for the better. It doesn’t necessarily have to change their life forever, as even a small gesture can help someone have a better day.

Kind regards,

Traci Marie Brower

Contents

Chapter 1

A REASON TO GET OUT OF BED

Chapter 2

NEW BEGINNINGS

Chapter 3

HELPING HAND

Chapter 4

DOGGIE DOG WORLD

Chapter 5

GOTHAM HALL

Chapter 6

PLAYING WITH FIRE

Chapter 7

HOME SWEET HOME

Chapter 8

FRIEND OR FOE?

Chapter 9

Loss

Chapter 10

LOVE

Chapter 11

LITTLE GIRLS

Chapter 12

COUTURE FOR MS

Chapter 13

EAT, DRINK, AND BE MARRIED

Chapter 1

A REASON TO GET OUT OF BED

IT HAD BEEN TWELVE DAYS SINCE SHAWN HAD moved out of Sara’s apartment. She lay awake in bed, remembering how he used to watch her sleep, counting the freckles on her pale face. She loved opening her eyes to the sight of Shawn staring over at her with his sparkling blue-green eyes. Shawn had a baby face, but after joining the Fire Department, he grew and kept his mustache to make him appear more rugged. Sara knew every inch of Shawn’s face; however, the memory was starting to fade. She rolled over to his pillow that still harbored the faint scent of his Irish Spring soap. She sat up in bed, holding the pillow to her chest. Her eyes were drawn to the dresser that was covered with framed photos. There were various pictures of the two of them skiing, in Central Park, at prom, and at their high school graduation. She should have known a relationship that began in high school could never really last. After glancing at the photos for a moment, she decided not to let her emotions get the best of her and forced herself out of bed.

These days, everything in her apartment reminded Sara of Shawn. Every corner was haunted with memories: the kitchen table, where the two of them had played board games; the couch, where they would cuddle and watch movies together; even the blender, where Shawn made his protein shakes every morning. Who would have thought all those happy moments would one day make her feel sick to her stomach? All of the good times now felt like lies.

After a few moments, she returned to her bedroom to get dressed. Her closet held a mix of professional-looking attire and casual cotton blends, mostly from Gap. Since it was her first time changing out of her flannel pajamas in days, she figured a jumpsuit and sneakers would be a gradual transition. Besides, she would be returning home right after her first dreaded therapy session. She knew it was supposed to help, but she also knew it was going to be exhausting, having to tell a complete stranger her entire life story. She brushed her strawberry-blonde hair and straightened out her bangs. Sara blotted concealer under her eyes to cover the bags left over from crying, then applied the rest of her makeup, in soft pink hues, to give her complexion a smooth, natural look.

After she was dressed, she walked over to the foyer area and opened the closet door, where she had seven coats to choose from. She grabbed her gray pea coat, pulled it over her shoulders, and wrapped a pink loop scarf around her neck. She stepped outside her SoHo apartment building and headed down the street. It was a cold January morning in Manhattan; all the surfaces were lined with a thin layer of frost.

After a few blocks, she entered an office building. She read the directory, until she spotted “Dionne Psychiatry: Suite 501.” Sara sprinted across the lobby to catch the elevator. The four people inside it avoided eye contact as she entered. She never imaged she could feel so alone while being surrounded by other people. At that moment, Sara’s emotions got the better of her; she struggled to hold back her tears. She blushed as a solitary tear rolled down her rosy cheek. Sara put her head down, embarrassed, but everyone was too busy looking at their smartphones to notice. It felt like an eternity before the lift reached the fifth floor, and Sara couldn’t wait to get away from the insensitive pod people. When they finally reached her floor and the door whooshed open, she swiftly exited the elevator.

Sara sat in a waiting room, waiting to be called into her new therapist’s office. Even five stories up, she could hear the noise of the New York City streets below: the grinding of the plows as they scraped the frost from the street; the man on the corner yelling, “Get your chestnuts here!”; the squealing of brakes and the blaring of car horns.

“Ms. Sanders, Dr. Dionne will see you now,” the doctor’s receptionist said, motioning Sara to the door to the right of her desk.

Dr. Dionne’s office was exactly what Sara had expected. There were two leather club chairs facing a coffee table, with a wooden desk in the foreground. The office was decorated with books, plants, and a box of tissues.

Dr. Dionne walked toward Sara and shook her hand. The psychiatrist was in her fifties; her soft, rounded features and caramel-colored hair made her appear kind and trustworthy.

“Hi, Dr. Dionne.”

“Please call me Karen.”

Sara nodded as they took their seats across from each other.

Dr. Dionne grabbed a notepad and pencil from the table. “Have you ever been in therapy before?” she inquired.

“I went to a few sessions back in high school, but it didn’t help much.”

“And why don’t you feel that it helped?”

“It was me. I don’t think anything could have helped me at that point.”

“Would you mind telling me what was going on during that time?”

“It was right after my parents died in a car crash.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been tough on you.” Dr. Dionne made a note on her pad.

“Other than my best friend, Shawn, I’ve been alone ever since.”

“Did you grow up in Manhattan?”

“No. After I graduated high school, I sold my parents’ house in Westchester. I couldn’t stand living in the house I grew up in, not without them, so I got a place in the city.”

“Any particular reason for choosing the city?”

“Work. I took a paralegal job at my father’s old company, Parker, Sanders & Smith. I wanted to be close to Shawn. He was living in an NYU dorm at the time. Shawn and I were in love, headed for marriage, but six months ago, he dropped out of NYU and joined the New York City Fire Department. He stayed in my apartment when he wasn’t on tour.” Sara stopped talking and leaned back in her chair.

“It sounds like this was a good move and that things are working out for you here.”

“They were, until Shawn started going out drinking with the guys from the firehouse. A few months ago, he drank too much and ended up spending the night with some girl. A few weeks went by, and he never mentioned it. When he found out she was pregnant, he had to tell me.”

“What did you do?” Dr. Dionne asked.

“I kicked him out. He had nowhere to go, so he ended up staying with her. I’ve been a mess ever since. Matter fact, that’s why I’m here.”

“When did all of this happen?”

“Two weeks ago. I haven’t left the apartment before today.” Sara looked exhausted; clearly, just talking about Shawn took up all of her energy.

“How are you feeling now?” Dr. Dionne asked, sounding concerned, as she continued taking notes.

Sara took a long pause, trying to put her feelings into words. “Well, the one person I trusted in this world betrayed me. I feel like I did when my parents died, helpless and alone. I have no one. I even stopped going to work. I can hardly get myself out of bed anymore.”

“Do you have any friends in the area? Any family members you can talk to?”

“No. All my so-called friends were our friends. They knew he cheated on me and never told me. I feel like I’ve been laughed at for a month. I was the last person to know!” Sara started to raise her voice. “And if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, would he have ever told me? Anyway, no, I’ve got no friends. I’ve got…no one.”

“You mentioned that you have not left your house in two weeks. What about your job?”

“I quit via email. I wasn’t up to having a phone conversation with my boss, Devin.”

“Why is that?”

“Devin is an attorney and a hard person to say no to, hence the email.”

“How do you plan to support yourself without a job?” Dr. Dionne questioned.

“I have plenty of money from the sale of my parents’ estate, as well as some inheritance. Money is the only thing in my life that isn’t a problem.”

“So you’re not planning to go back to work at all?”

“No. The only thing I liked about that job was doing research. I hated working on the defendant side. We were always representing some major corporation against the little guys. I only took the job because my father was one of the first partners.”

“Have you considered a career change? Is there something else you’d like to do?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. I have not been able to think about anything other than Shawn.”

“Have you spoken with him since this all happened?”

“Every day.”

Karen looked surprised by Sara’s answer. “Are you sure this is best for you?” she questioned.

“I know he cheated, but I don’t know how to let him go. He has been such a big part of my life for so long. I want to hate him, but I just can’t,” Sara explained.

After an hour-long, intense therapy session, Karen worried that Sara needed more help, given the losses she had suffered, her inability to leave her apartment, and her lack of friends and relatives to support her during such a difficult time. “Have you ever taken antidepressants?” Before Sara could answer, Dr. Dionne had already started writing the prescription.

“No.” Sara wrinkled her eyebrows.

“I’m going to prescribe twenty milligrams of Prozac. It will help you cope with this situation. In the meantime, I suggest that you try to distance yourself from Shawn. You need time to process all of this. Don’t be afraid to take some time to figure out what you want.”

“Okay. I’ll try.” Sara nodded.

“Let’s make an appointment for the day after tomorrow. Please feel free to call my office if you need anything before then.”

“Thank you.” Sara collected her things, then made her way out of the office.

Sara took her time walking home from therapy. Although she would never admit it, the night before she’d made her first therapy appointment, she had contemplated swallowing a bottle of Vicodin. This thought terrified her, and she was glad she had forced herself to go. Sara hadn’t been sure what to expect from Dr. Dionne, but she seemed easy to talk to and made a few good points. If nothing else, at least it was a reason for Sara to get out of her apartment; it was the first time she had been out in days, and she needed the fresh air. She used to love the chaos of the city, but now her thoughts were too loud, overshadowing the noise around her. She was so numb that she couldn’t even feel the cool air blowing through her. Surrounded by hordes of New Yorkers, she still felt all alone.

Sara returned to her apartment in SoHo. Even though she was wealthy, she had never had a taste for flashy things. The living room/office area was decorated with a red fabric couch and an IKEA soft oak matching furniture collection. Brick walls framed the tall windowpanes. The sun was beginning to set, and bursts of pink and orange started to come through her sheer curtains. Sara used to love the open space in her apartment, but lately, it had only made her feel more lonely.

Thoughts began to ramble through her mind: Maybe if I wasn’t such a homebody, Shawn wouldn’t have gone out looking for fun. Her ideal evening consisted of curling up with a good mystery novel or watching TV. She had never been into going out to bars, clubs, or parties. Sara and Shawn were both introverts, but after a few drinks, Shawn could really let loose.

She decided to watch a comedy to lift her spirits. She felt cozy, hidden, and safe under her fleece throw blanket. She did her best to ignore the telephone as it rang over and over again; she knew it was Shawn calling. After five separate calls, she got frustrated and answered, annoyed, “Hello!”

“It’s me,” Shawn replied.

“Why do you keep calling me? There is nothing left to say.”

“I miss you,” he said sincerely.

“Where is your new girlfriend?” Sara questioned.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he defended.

“Excuse me? She is having your baby, and you live with her.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice. Where was I supposed to go?”

“Shawn, I can’t do this right now.”

“I love you.”

“Goodnight.” She quickly hung up before he could respond.

Sara unplugged the phone and resumed her movie. When it was over, she needed a new distraction. She sat at her desk and began to surf the Internet for local blogs. Reading them made her sad, as each one was more depressing than the next: “Every time I look at food, I feel sick… I just got laid off, and I don’t know how I can take care of my family… My son just turned eighteen and decided to join the Army. They are sending him overseas soon… I’ve lost my faith.” As sad as it was, Sara thought it was great that the bloggers were so open about the pain they were feeling. She had always thought writing was a good outlet for emotions, so she decided to start her own interactive blog. Not only would it be an excellent way to express her feelings, but she hoped she might also receive feedback from those who’d lived through similar experiences. So, she placed her hands on the keys and began typing…

Friday, January 20, 2012, 8:00 p.m.

My name is Sara. It may seem impossible to be alone in a city as big as Manhattan, but I am. I’ve read a dozen blogs, hoping to find answers. Instead, I found many others looking for answers as well. There is so much I love about this city…and so much I don’t understand. I was in an elevator the other day and started to cry. Everyone around me did their best to pretend not to notice. I thought about it, and I know I would have done the same thing. New Yorkers have seen and heard it all. Nothing strikes them as being out of the ordinary. This is a tough city to be alone in…

Two days later, Sara returned to Dr. Dionne’s office for her second session.

“How are you feeling today?” Dr. Dionne asked. “Tired,” Sara said, rubbing her eyes.

“Are the pills I gave you keeping you up?”

“No. I was on the Internet all night. I thought it might cheer me up, but it seems like the rest of the world is hurting too.” Sara shrugged.

“Have you given any more thought to returning to work?”

“No. I was not happy there anyway.”

“How are things with Shawn?”

“He won’t stop calling me.” Sara rolled her eyes.

“Have you left your apartment since our last appointment?”

“Nope. Nowhere to go.”

“You really need to break out of this cycle. If you isolate yourself, things will only get worse. I am going to give you a little homework assignment. It will help you socialize and resist the urge to withdraw. I want you to interact with someone new. It has to be in real life, not online. It could be a neighbor, your drycleaner, whoever. You need someone in your life other than Shawn.”

“I know,” Sara agreed.

“Let’s make our next appointment for Thursday. Does this same time work?”

“Yes. I’ll see you in four days.” Sara stood to collect her coat and purse. “I’m gonna work on it, Doc.”

Dr. Dionne nodded, and Sara exited the office.

Sara was in her flannel pajamas, ready to crawl into bed, when she heard a knock at her front door. She looked at the time on the cable box as she made her way to the door; it was ten o’clock. Sara peeked through the peephole and saw Shawn standing in the doorway. As she opened the door, she noticed that his eyes were filled with tears. He looked unshaven and somber. Part of her wanted to slam the door in his face, but the other part felt sorry for him. Even though he had hurt her severely, he was still her best friend, and she needed comforting. So, she gave in and led Shawn to her bedroom.

Shawn began kissing her as they lay together.

Sara pulled away before things could progress. “Just hold me,” she said.

“Okay.” Shawn pulled Sara closer to him, wrapping her in his toned, tattooed arms.

Sara couldn’t bring herself to sleep with him, knowing that he had been with another woman. Shawn had made one very wrong decision that had forever changed their lives. She knew neither of them would ever love anyone else the way they had loved each other. Maybe that’s a good thing, she thought. Maybe you should never give your whole heart to someone, because that’s a good way to get it broken.

Sara fell asleep cradled in Shawn’s arms. It was the first full night’s sleep she had in weeks.

Sara awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside her bedroom window. She rolled over and realized that Shawn had sneaked out. She rolled her eyes, sat up, and grabbed her laptop from the nightstand. She wasn’t about to let him ruin another day, and she wanted to see if anyone responded to her blog. To her surprise, she had already received two replies:

Tuesday, January 24, 2012, 9:00 a.m.

Dear Sara,

Don’t give up hope. If things were great all the time, we wouldn’t appreciate it as much. We all go through hard times in our lives. It will make you wiser and stronger in the long run.

Take care

MARY

Sara,

I was thinking about what you said in your blog, how no one noticed that you were crying in the elevator. A true New Yorker is programmed not to make eye contact. If we did, someone would ask, “What are you looking at?” There is too much going on in this city. You need to talk fast and get to the point and walk fast and get to where you are going. It’s the New York way.

Alone in New York,

DAVID

Mary’s and David’s entries helped put Sara’s mind at ease a bit. It was nice to know that someone else understood what she was feeling.

Sara closed her laptop and climbed out of bed to take a long, hot bath; lying in the tub always helped to relax her and clear her mind. She thought about the second reply, the one from David, and decided that she did not want to be a lonely, antisocial New Yorker anymore. She thought back to her most recent therapy session, about Dr. Dionne’s homework assignment. Maybe it’s finally time to get out and try to socialize. Tonight, she promised herself, I’ll go out and try to see the world differently, viewing the city with fresh eyes.

As Sara was locking her front door, she spotted her neighbor, Amber, coming down the hallway. Amber was hard to miss, as she was beautiful and very tall.

Sara usually put her head down, but this time, she saw the moment as an opportunity. As they passed each other in the hallway, Sara gave a slight wave. “Hi,” she said.

Amber was surprised, as it was the first time that shy neighbor had ever spoken to her. She paused at her apartment door and, just as she was about to put her keys in the lock, she responded, in a very evident accent, “Hello.”

Sara turned her head to look back at Amber and smiled. She then continued to walk outside.

It was eight p.m., thirty degrees, and the temperature was starting to drop. Sara scanned the New York City streets, observing the people around her. She watched the commuters rushing out of the cold, to the subway stairs. She felt herself become slightly jealous when she spotted a couple walking arm in arm, window-shopping. She watched a woman clench her purse while passing a homelessman.

Sara then fixed her eyes on the older man, who was sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a brick building. Although there was a roughness to his skin, he seemed fragile somehow, all curled up under layers of outdated New York Times. He wore a battered sweater and two socks over his hands to shield his fingers from the chilly wind. He didn’t look threatening at all; in fact, he looked like a sweet old man, like someone’s grandfather. Sara wondered how long he had been living there, on the street, in such harsh, unforgiving, humbling conditions. She watched as more people passed him by, some with disgust and others unresponsive. The homeless man had become part of the city block.

A week prior, Sara might have just passed him by herself, but that was not the case now. Instead, she felt an urge to help him. She thought to herself, Do something…anything! We can all use a little help sometimes. I know I need some. Acting upon her impulse, without hesitation, Sara removed her coat and handed it to the man.

The homeless man seemed to be caught off guard. “You sure?”

“Yes. Stay warm.”

“God bless you, ma’am,” he responded.

They smiled at each other, and Sara continued on her way. The homeless man, still smiling, draped the coat over himself like a blanket. Sara attempted to keep warm by folding her arms across her chest. Her skin developed goosebumps, and her breath was visible upon exhales. The below-freezing temperature slowed her down, making the few blocks home seem like a longer journey than usual, but she didn’t care.

For Sara, giving away her coat was more than just a small gesture; it was an epiphany. Maybe I don’t need drugs to get better, she realized. Maybe there’s…another way. She could almost feel her parents proudly looking down on her from Heaven. She felt connected to them for the first time since they had passed away, and she no longer felt alone. She was surprised that the simple random act of kindness had stirred her with so many overwhelming emotions. Her smile stretched from ear to ear while tears slowly descended from her olive eyes. For the first time in a long while, Sara felt fulfilled and satisfied.

The next morning, Sara attended her third session with Dr. Dionne.

“How did your homework assignment go?” Dr. Dionne asked.

“Well, I gave my coat to a homeless man last night. Does that count?”

“That was awfully nice of you, but won’t you be cold without a coat?”