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I shake my head. “I feel like those conversations would undo all of the progress I’ve made.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Naomi says. “But I can’t tell you what you’re feeling is wrong.”
“I’ll answer them eventually.”
She nods, “That’s okay.”
We talk for a little while more, come up with goals for and plans on what to focus on for next week. When I’m leaving her building and walking into the parking lot, my phone rings. When I look down to check my screen, I smile.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey,” David greets me.
“Hey,” I say back.
“How are you feeling? After your session?” he asks.
“Tonight was hard,” I admit whispering, shutting my eyes tight.
“I’m in the neighborhood. Do you want to grab dinner?”
I smile again, “Yes.”
SIXTY
NOW, SUMMER
For the past week, since we had dinner together after my difficult therapy session, I’ve spent every evening at David’s place. I never stay the night. But I go there after work and we eat together. We talk, watch TV or movies, and we just spend time together.
Talking with him has become effortless, easy as breathing. Which is funny because breathing wasn’t easy for me for a long time. He’s slowly become someone I look forward to seeing. He never pressures me into talking about anything I’m not ready for. He takes all of my cues when it comes to any kind of physical intimacy, which hasn’t happened since that last kiss.
“So do you have any crazy ex-girlfriends I should be prepared for?” I ask and he laughs. We haven’t put a label on whatever this is between us, but we both know where we stand. That’s enough for me now.
“No.” He sighs, “Honestly I never dated seriously after my high school girlfriend. I messed around in college a bit, but nothing serious.” He looks at me and I listen without a single ounce of judgment. “I was honestly a little bit scared to put myself out there again.”
“I completely understand that.”
“Part of me is embarrassed to be so vulnerable and open about my feelings to say that out loud, but screw toxic masculinity stereotypes.”
I laugh and cheer, “Yes! Screw them to hell!”
He laughs now. “Hayden was your only serious boyfriend?” I nod. Feeling a bit of that weight come back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper with a real smile. “I don’t want to be afraid to talk about him forever.” I take a deep breath. “It’s gotten so much easier to remember the good moments, the beautiful times. But it’s hard to think about the end. And Naomi is gently pushing me to start getting more comfortable talking about the most difficult parts too.”
“Only when you’re ready,” he says, “No matter what she says. You’ll know when you’re ready.”
“I don’t want to be afraid of that night anymore,” I whisper in admission. He nods, understandingly. “I don’t want to be—” Afraid of answering his family’s phone calls, of music, of going to see his… I hear these words in my head, but cut myself off.
“Do you want to talk about it now?” he asks gently.
I shake my head, “No. But yes.” I look up at his ceiling, tucking my legs further under me and grabbing my wine glass as a distraction, giving me something to do with my hands. “Honestly, several months ago I would have been happy to admit that holding on to all of this was the only way I was surviving. But now I think it’s been slowly eating away at me. I didn’t realize it until I started to let myself live again, to try and be happy again. I don’t have to live in the past. I can spend time with him in my memories, but making myself stay in that grief of the past was killing me too.”
David looks at me, eyes warm and kind, open and understanding.
“And as I get more comfortable in the good memories I have of him, I’m realizing that I have to come to terms with the bad ones too,” I admit. “Holding on to them is keeping me from healing.”
We look at each other for several moments, comfortable in each other's presence. “Do you want to try to talk about it? Just see what comes out?” David offers carefully.
