He makes the universal movement of sealing his lips shut and raising his hands.
“Like I was saying…we’ve kind of just gotten…closer? I think…at least it feels that way, but yeah, ethics and rules and all that fun stuff have always been there, so nothing has happened. But we also have a Psych class together…and it just feels like all these things keep throwing her back in my path and in my life, and I think…I think I really like her, Erik.”
“Okay, so…“ Erik says. “You like her.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
“Mm, Iknewyou smelled love-sick lately.”
I roll my eyes, and he continues. “Okay, so she’s also in the group you’re co-facilitating.”
I shake my head. “Was.”
His eyebrows raise up. “Was?”
“Yeah, Dr. Alvarez offered me the slot in the suicide loss group. Starts next week.”
Erik leans back, mouth making that “oh” that’s half congratulation, halfplot thickens. “First of all, congrats. Second of all…yeah, that changes the whole game here, huh?”
“It loosens it,” I say. “Doesn’t make it free. She’s still in recovery. I’m still…me.”
“Still a human with a pulse, yeah. And? What’s the question you’re actually asking?”
I rub my hands over my face. “Am I an idiot if I even…consider this? Like, would it be a bad idea for both of us? Would we just be walking each other into a slow-motion car crash? Or…”
Erik studies me for a beat. “Okay. First diagnosis here…you’re not asking ‘how do I get her,’ you’re asking ‘how do I not hurt her.’ That’s a good sign, right?”
“I’m asking both,” I admit. “But yeah.”
“Second diagnosis,” he says, holding up two fingers. “What are you drawn to? Her, or the role you get to play around her?”
I wince. “That’s rude,” then I give him an annoyed look. “I’m the Psych major here…why areyoutherapistingme? I mean…I need you to, but like, what’s going on here?” I let out a small laugh.
He shrugs with a smile on his face. “Learned from the best, I guess.”
I let out a slow breath. “This doesn’t feel like a rescue,” I say. “It’s not…me trying to be her sponsor or savior. It just—” I search for it. “Feels right. When I’m around her, everything in me gets quieter. And I like who I am when I’m talking to her. I don’t need her to need me. I just…want to be near her. To know her. And I don’t think there’s anything she could tell me that would make me bolt.”
Erik’s face softens. “Okay. That sounds less like trauma cosplay and more like a crush.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t call it that.”
“I willabsolutelycall it that,” he says. “Now ethics.”
“I know,” I groan. “I know.”
“Here’s the layup,” he says, counting on his fingers. “One, you’re out of her facilitation circle, that’s good. Two, she’s early in recovery. New relationships can be hard to navigate, and early recovery is a whole mess of emotions in itself. Three, the power dynamics don’t just disappear because your title changes. You still have a ‘helper’ aura on campus. Four, you have your own grief stuff that gets loud around her story. Not really a deal-breaker, just all things to be aware of.”
I nod. “So the answer is don’t.”
“The answer is don’t rush,” he says. “And maybe bring your supervisor into your head about it. Bring Ms. Ricks into your head about it. Bring your therapist into your head about it.”
I laugh. “My therapist is going to love this. ‘So, Imaybelike someone I’ve met in a lot of messy ways’…”
“She’ll ask what you want,” Erik says. “So I’ll ask it first. What do you want? Not whatshouldyou want. Whatdoyou want?”
I look down at the ground. “I wanna tell her I’m switching groups so she doesn’t think I ghosted the group she was in. I wanna keep being around her in ways that are safe for both of us. I wanna ask her to get coffee sometime in the middle of the day in a public place. No agenda. No trauma swapping. I wanna see if it still feels…like it feels when we accidentally end up walking in the same direction, or when we fall into easy conversation in class, or when I feel like I see her in new, deeper, raw ways every time she opens up more.”
Erik grins.
