“I don’t think I feel tall yet.”
“You will.” Her nose scrunches sympathetically, and when she leans forward in her chair, she feels so much closer even though she’s miles away. “So, spill. What made you call? I gave you a list of therapists that practice in Toronto so you could do some of that important, in-person work you’ve been expertly avoiding.”
I do laugh a bit this time, dragging a knuckle under each eye before straightening my shoulders. “I think I need someone who knows me. It was recently brought to my attention that you’re my third-longest relationship. And seeing as one of those doesn’t really exist anymore, at least, not the same way ... I’d guess that makes you number two.” I flash her two fingers in a sad attempt at deflection before blinking up at the intricate moulding carving along the ceiling and the slow, steady turn of the fan. “You remember Talon?”
Her smile pulls tight, but the tugging at the corners looks a bit like fondness. “How could I forget? He used to pick you up after sessions when you were in college and he’d ask to go through your file together because he thought he had some sage wisdom he could offer.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” I whisper. My smileisfond—and it doesn’t hurt as much as it did before the cruise, to look back at the people we used to be.
“You have good friends, Sloan. People that love you.” Lu nods before she sits back, picks up her clipboard and waits.
I tell her the whole thing in excruciating detail. And it is excruciating. It cuts me back open, my heart breaks and my ribs that used to be Bohdan’s hands crack, and I think all of me spills onto the floor of this new apartment.
“What was that like?” Lu asks gently, blinking dark eyes at me. “Being with Bohdan again?”
“Wonderful.” I don’t bother to wipe away the tears. “But a bit like a reassurance, I think. When he left ... it wasn’t just about me as a person anymore.” I gesture vaguely to my forehead, like Lu can see my brain sitting there on display. “It was all about my worthiness of being loved by him.”
“Themes can switch.” She nods thoughtfully, and she sees it on my face—the horror that he might become something I’ll never, ever have again. “And they can switch back, and they can go away entirely. It’s not forever, Sloan.”
“Okay.”
She keeps going. “What was that like, having your worst fear come true?”
“Horrible.” I sniff a laugh.
“But you didn’t run away. You didn’t beg for reassurance or facts from Bohdan. Why?”
“I guess I just thought ... wow, you’ve been right all along.” I tap my forehead again. “For real this time, here’s the evidence—he’s on his knees on the balcony of this stupid suite and I just got so, so tired. I didn’t really feel like fighting it anymore.”
Lu nods, looking a bit proud. “That’s not how I would describe it. It takes quite a bit of fortitude to sit with your discomfort. Itsounds a bit like you practiced some ERP techniques all on your own. How’d that feel?”
“Awful, I don’t want to do it again.”
She laughs this time, head tipped back before she gives me a look that suggests I’ll actually be sitting with my discomfort more often than not, and she asks me a question that seems obvious, but I’ve never really thought of it that way. “Before Bohdan loved you, did you love you?”
“Oh.” I laugh, batting away the tears trailing down my cheeks. “No, not at all.” Lu leans forward, dark hair obscuring her face when she scribbles along her clipboard, and my eyes go wide when this horrible new fear wakes up. “Do you think that means we can never be together again?”
Her nostrils flare and her lips purse. An expertly drawn brow rises on her forehead like she’s not going to answer because she can see my brain, ready and waiting. But she does, and I know it’s going to be the last time I hear her say it. “No. I don’t think living with or experiencing any form of mental health challenges precludes two people from having a very happy—very healthy—relationship.” Her pen hits the edge of her clipboard. “But I think we’ve got a lot of work to do before you can be, and so does he. Okay?”
I imagine a me gathering up all the contents of my chest spilled out there on the floor. I imagine that me kissing the broken hands that used to be ribs and whispering thank you. I imagine a me that leaves them there and gets to work repairing all the cartilage and things that live in her own chest.
I nod. “Okay.”
Bohdan
When the doorbell rings and I notice it’s 11:13 p.m., I have a fleeting, dumb—painful—thought that it might be Sloan.
That she flew here from Toronto and found herself outside the door of my apartment in Brooklyn.
That she’s ready and still loves me and still wants me.
I’ll have to explore that one in therapy tomorrow, because it’s only been a few months since the cruise, and I just abandoned packing halfway through so I could look at old pictures of us.
Even if she was ready, I’m certainly fucking not, and she deserves the best version of me.
That thought lives with every single step I take down the hall though, because hope is a powerful thing, but it dies a quick death and I flatten my hair down over my scar to stop the phantom twinge when I open the door and see Tia Valdez standing there.
“What are you doing here? It’s late.” I glance over my shoulder as she follows me into the apartment, arms crossed and eyes wandering around, appraising everything.
