Page 138 of Pretender

“Uh, hmm.” I put my ankle back across the other knee and adjust the edge of my sock. “I suppose. It’s like a quiet time but without leaving space for anything else. It’s all-consuming.”

“Quiet time from what?”

There’s a crumb on his trousers that’s bothering me. I focus on it, willing it to disappear, trying to let the crumb be louder than the thoughts that flood me at his question. Sex is the opposite of my shitty office space. The office is silent in a loud kind of way, giving my mind too much space to frolic. Work and sex let my brain be quiet from that noise.

Quiet from … the memories of Dad. Of him laughing.

Of him dying.

Lying there in his hospital bed.

Quiet from the idea that I didn’t know him fully. That I can never be sure if he was just acting with me and Mum or if he loved us as much as I believed him to. I’ll never have the assurance that he was as happy being my dad as he said.

“Bad memories. Good memories that wreck me.”

“Pain.”

I look up, right into his grey eyes.

“And the club allows you to redirect from that?” Dr Carter continues. “To put the painful memories somewhere.”

I trace a thumb over my lower lip, letting my vision blur.

“That makes sense.”

Dr Carter nods. “It might have been a subconscious reaction, adding to your panic. We can explore this further. But tell me more about what it is about your dad that makes you doubt you’re Linnea’s ‘forever’, as you called it.”

I sigh. “That’s a fucking long conversation, Dr Carter.”

He knits his thick brow at me. “Okay. We can come back to it. We’ll need to talk about your past so you can learn to understand yourself better. That’s how you’ll be able to put some things behind you and look to the future.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s first address what you wrote in your booking note, then.”

“Yes. What can I do to get better at talking? I know I do this thing.”

“Tell me more about that.”

I shrug.

“I guess I get the urge to move on to something else?”

He nods.

“And Linnea, she… She struggles to push, because her ex was an arse who made her feel shit about herself.”

I grit my teeth.

“Like I did yesterday,” I add.

“That’s not what you wanted to do.”

“Of course not.”

There’s a scratch on my leather watch strap. I need to get that fixed.

“What are you thinking right now?”