The Choice: Embrace the Possible

Edie shares the story of Carlos, who struggled with anxiety and self-acceptance in his high school years. Carlos calls Edie his sophomore year at college distressed by the racist hazing he experiences as a fraternity pledge. Carlos dreamed of joining a fraternity for years, and Greek life is an important social aspect of the university he attends. However, the pledge master crosses lines, forcing Carlos to scrub toilets wearing a sombrero. The only words Carlos can say are, “Sí, señor.” Edie helps Carlos realize that he still has choices, even if the consequences for each are undesirable. Carlos brainstorms a final option: He confronts the fraternity president, who finds the blatant racism unacceptable. The cruel hazing stops, and Carlos remains in the fraternity.

Edie then describes a patient named Beatrice, a victim of rape and childhood molestation. Beatrice approaches Edie after hearing her talk about forgiveness at a local community event. Beatrice doesn’t believe she can ever forgive her neglectful parents or rapists, but Edie assures her that forgiveness is “you forgiving the part of yourself that was victimized and letting go of all blame” (257). Edie walks Beatrice through revisiting her trauma, giving her permission to release her rage. Later in her healing process, Beatrice experiences a setback when she has a severe panic attack. Edie encourages her to take a risk, so Beatrice—with much delay and reluctance—registers for a self-defense class. Beatrice can only watch from the sidelines during the first classes, but when the instructor offers to help one-on-one, Beatrice’s confidence grows. She eventually pursues new interests with her newfound self-assurance. Beatrice later choreographs a dance to a Brothers Grimm fairy tale she read as a child called the “The Girl Without Hands,” in which the devil cuts off a girl’s hands out of revenge. The girl later marries a king, who makes her a pair of silver hands. One day, she saves their son from drowning, and her hands becomes real. Beatrice’s hands, she says, are “real again,” but she saved herself, not someone else.

Renée and Greg lost their son Jeremy when he took his own life at age 16. The couple slowly begins to attend fewer therapy sessions, but an incident prompts Greg to call Edie. The couple attended a graduation party for a student in Jeremy’s class. Greg found himself enjoying the party, fondly remembering his son. Greg asked Renée to dance, and she rejected, retorting, “Jeremy doesn’t get to dance. Why should you? I can’t turn my back on him so easily” (265). Edie reminds Renée that she is still alive, and by refusing to evolve from the mourning phase, she is using grieving rituals to shield herself from the present. Edie encourages Renée to move her grief forward by hanging Jeremy’s picture on the living room mantle and taking a few moments to speak with him every day. Years later, Edie receives a Christmas card featuring the whole family with Jeremy’s beaming photograph behind Renée’s shoulder.

The Elefánt sisters can’t reunite often, but when the opportunity arises, all their old family dynamics resurface, as though no time has passed. Magda and Edie fly to Australia for Klara’s daughter’s wedding. Edie reflects how maintaining their childhood roles is a coping mechanism: “We become the person we think we need to be to please others” (268). One night, they see Klara in her daughter’s childhood bedroom playing with dolls. Edie understands that her playfulness isn’t nostalgia—rather, it’s making up for the childhood she never enjoyed. When Klara realizes she’s caught, she lashes out in defense, but Edie now has better tools for understanding Klara’s anger and her own sphere of control.

By 2010, Edie has addressed numerous audiences of military personnel. She begins her speech, as she always does, with her mother’s wisdom: “No one can take away from you what you put in your own mind” (271). On this specific occasion, something triggers old memories of muddy grass and M&M’s. Edie realizes the Seventy-first Infantry—the same American unit that liberated her camp—fills the seats before her. Edie used to wonder why she lived when so many others died, but now she rephrases the question: “Why not me?” (272). The present is sacred, and Edie encourages everyone she meets—and, no less, herself—that regardless of the past, everyone can choose freedom right now.