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Nodding, I cling to Kingston, scared to lose his heat. Giving me a tight squeeze, he reassures me that he’s here, and we take a second to clean each other up, wiping each other’s tears. “Okay.”
“Why do you feel you bring the past into your present? That was obviously a very traumatic experience. Why is it affecting the present relationship with you and Kingston?”
That is often a question I ask myself, seeing as Kingston may be a lot of things, like obsessive, compulsive, demanding, and smug, but if I were to tell him no or walk out this door, he would let me leave. He would never hurt me or threaten to make me stay. Kingston might beg, but he would never force.
“I told my mother this one time, but I don’t fear Kingston or think he will ever physically cause me harm. It’s the emotion. I was so vulnerable when I was with Joel, constantly caught in this state where I feared him yet needed him. I feel sick for saying that, but something made me depend on him, scared that, without him, I would be nothing.” I’m embarrassed to admit this, to admit at one point I felt like I needed my abuser.
“Would Joel say things about you not being good enough or even capable enough to be on your own without him? That he was the only one who would ever want you?”
I nod, conceding the answer.
“That is where that fear comes from. Are you saying you are afraid you will be so emotionally attached and dependent on Kingston that you will fall into that state again?”
“Yes, I’m terrified to need him like I do, and vice versa.”
“Why, baby? Why are you scared of that?” Kingston interrupts, my body still tangled in him, but my face is dropped to my chest.
“I just—”
“Look at me when you tell me, L. Don’t be ashamed.” Grasping my chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he brings my eyes to his worried gaze, making my heart skip a beat.
“Because if I thought I needed him, then what will it do to me if you ever leave for good? Because I need you way more than I ever needed anyone before, Kingston. This separation has made me more depressed and lost than anything.”
He exhales with a soft ‘oh,’ his brows drawing in, his heart rate thundering under my palm resting against his chest.
“I made a mistake by leaving you. I made a huge fucking mistake, and for that I’m sorry. But, Lana, we’ve been together through hell and high water, riptides and fucking monsoons. If that didn’t tear us apart, then nothing in this world will. Losing me isn’t an option, baby. Need me, Lana. Fucking need me, baby.” He leans in to kiss me, completely careless that we’re in a room with Dr. Moore. I take his kiss. The way his tongue begs for entrance, the way his heart plays a steady tempo under my fragile hands, grips my heart in an ironclad vice.
Words like his hold so much more meaning than any words that have ever been spoken. More meaning than the wisest words of a poet, more meaning than romantic words from Shakespeare and Hemingway. They move through my body like heat from whiskey. They boil the blood in my veins like lava, and they make my heart beat at the speed of light.
Dr. Moore coughs. Love-struck, we pull apart, and I still feel him there on my lips, my heart rate now beating in sync with his.
“Lana, I know holding onto those mem
ories can be hard, but try to remember it’s the past and you’re safe now. Don’t let them control you as much as they have. How about we end here for the day?”
I absorb everything I felt today—the release, the sadness, the anxiety, the pain...the relief.
“I think that’s good,” Kingston answers for us.
She has a point. Letting him control this much of me isn’t healthy. I’m safe now. Kingston and I are no longer tied to my past. Joel gave up, and for six months, nothing has been done. No notes, no visits, no calls, no attempt at contacting me at all.
Maybe I’m the one who needs to let him go, because he has finally let go of me. Holding on to him has never been his fault or where I should lay the blame. The blame should be laid on me, because I’m the one who has let him in my life more than he should’ve ever been.
We broke through today, made the biggest reveal in therapy yet. While it was needed, it was singlehandedly one of the hardest things I have ever had to listen to. At one point, I realized that maybe Lana isn’t the only one afraid to reopen her wounds and reveal more of her past. Maybe I’m not ready either.
“You did good in there. How do you feel?” I ask Lana, walking her to her car in the underground parking garage. Today was a day for great stepping-stones. Lana is finally opening herself up to healing.
“I feel weird, a good weird. Different, I guess,” She admits, turning to lean against her Jeep, leaving me to stand just a few inches in front of her. I’m so close that I could touch her if I extend my arm. But I resist touching her just yet.
“How so?”
“Well, I feel like the burden isn’t mine anymore. You know now, the therapist knows, and it feels like I can breathe, because after I confessed all that, people believed me, and for the first time, I’m safe.”
“Wait, baby, you thought no one would believe you? We all believed you, Lana.” This confuses me, shocks me enough to have me stepping back a few steps, my face contorted in confusion.
“Not you guys. Just the world. What kind of woman stays with an abuser? People think you’re crying wolf, because no one believes a victim would stay. That and Joel made me believe he would flip this all on me. He had the power to manipulate me, Kings. He hurt me whenever he thought I would tell my parents about it all. So I guess it’s a natural reaction.”
I shake my head, completely perplexed, but fighting after the session we just had is impossible. Lana shared so much and she still is, right here in this underground parking lot, without a therapist. That has to mean something.
