"Well, you usually ask a thousand questions and now you aren’t."
"You took the initiative and started a conversation so that’s not necessary.”
"I’m not talking about anything important."
He looked up from his phone. "If it’s important to you, it’s important."
"So I’m not still totally failing therapy? Or maybe I’m only half failing now."
"You were never failing.” He focused on me with a warm smile. “John, there is no failing, and if there were, you still wouldn’t qualify. Even being here without saying a word wassomething,something big. It wasn’t easy for you, and you still chose to do it anyway.”
I scoffed, trying to escape all the heaviness in the room.
“You’re making great progress,” Aaron insisted. “More than just physically. You and I have had actual conversations without sarcasm these past few weeks. Sharing with Temple was a huge breakthrough for you. It’s perfectly okay and understandable to take a breather and regroup after that. Why do you think you need to do more?"
"I-I don’t know.” I found myself trying to find the answer out loud. “I guess I don’t want to stop. I need to keep going, building my life and filling it with things. The more space life out here takes, the less room there is for the basement.”
“No matter how much you build a life and move on…” he began gently, unsure if he should continue.
I filled in the rest. “Nothing changes the past? It still happened.” I knew that. Still. “Everything else gives it less weight, right? Life needs to be about more than what happened there. I need to move on.”
"There’s really only one successful method for moving on, there’s even a saying we mental health people have.The only way out is through.And I think you know that’s a difficult journey. So if you aren’t ready to go there yet, nobody’s gonna force you. Practice being kind to yourself and don’t force yourself."
I really doubted my abilities when it came to therapy and living a normal life. I wasn’t exactly an expert in being a regular person. Being kind to myself? Guess I could give that a try.
11.What a Difference a Name Makes
John
Nerves jumped uncomfortably in my stomach when Lysander and I went to meet the consultant. We usually focused on the here and now, but this appointment could fill in some of the other gaps. I walked in, stopping short and only moving again when Lysander cleared his throat behind me so that he could enter too.
Huh. Not sure what to expect, it still wasn’t this.Him.
A man waited for us in the half-empty office. Average build with pale skin, dark messy hair, and striking violet eyes. His stillness almost immediately set me on edge, reminding me of a coiled snake waiting to strike. As soon as I had the thought, his body loosened and became more natural, like he… did he read my mind?
“Your thoughts are obvious,” he said, apparently still reading my response to him. “Everybody’s always afraid I’m reading their mind.” He didn’t roll his eyes, though his tone implied it. “Why waste energy on telepathy or clairvoyance when people are so predictable?”
“Uh,” Lysander cleared his throat, stepping between us. “Sorry, his people skills are kinda—”
“What people skills?” he muttered.
“—but he’s absolutely our best bet for finding answers. John, this is Agent Frost. Frost, this is John.”
"Is this going to be difficult?" I wondered, nerves reappearing with a vengeance.
"Not for you.” The man’s keen gaze made me freeze in place. “I’ll stare into your soul and you won’t feel a thing."
"Then why did you remove all the furniture in here?"
"This office was free,” Lysander explained. “The person is changing jobs and in the middle of moving out their stuff."
"Okay…” I wrapped my arms around myself, self-conscious. “I guess we should get started."
"Should I leave?" Temple asked.
No. I shook my head. Someone looking at my soul didn’t sound entirely comfortable, no matter how badly I wanted answers. I welcomed the moral support.
“Did the Brokers reach any conclusions?" Frost asked.
