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“How have you been handling the big move?”

Dr. Nadia Rahi sat before him, with her warm brown eyes and nearly omnipresent kind and unflappable expression, her fingers steepled under her chin in a manner that made it look like her elbows were floating. He would often fixate on those elbows during their conversations. Would it not be more comfortable for her to rest them on the arms of her chair?

“It’s been good,” Bradley said. “I’ve unpacked most of my stuff.” A slight exaggeration, given he still had boxes covering most of his living room floor, but the important things, like the Christmas decorations, were all unboxed and set up.

“That’s good to hear. The change hasn’t upset your routine in any way?”

“Nope. Still sticking to our program.”

“The cravings?”

“They flared up, as you warned. But still manageable.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Dr. Rahi tapped her fingers together a few times. “So then what’s the problem?”

Nadia Rahi’s office was as cozy as a family room, with warm lighting, two comfortable recliners, light-blue walls, a tall fern in the corner, and a pleasant breeze emanating from the furnace grates. Still, Bradley felt as if he were sitting under the intense beam of a spotlight. Sometimes he thought Dr. Rahi could read his mind—although she’d told him, many times, it was only his body language she was reading.

“My neighbour hates me,” he blurted out.

“I see.”

“Like, she really hates me.”

“Does she?”

“Yes.”

“Can you explain to me why you believe that?”

“She yelled at me for petting her cat.”

“That must have been uncomfortable.”

“It was. Oh, and she told me to move my Christmas decorations off her side of the front lawn.”

“I see. And did you?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And…that’s about it.”

“All right.” Dr. Rahi brought her hands down onto her lap, finally giving those hovering elbows a rest. “Have you tried apologizing for—and please correct me if I don’t have the full story—crossing her lawn and petting her cat?”

It sounded really silly when said out loud. Bradley’s tense muscles began to relax, and he allowed himself to sink back into the seat cushions. Maybe his father was right, maybe he did have a tendency to overreact. How many mornings had he called up a buddy after a night out, certain he must have done something terrible, only to have them laugh it off, saying “What are you worried about? You were hilarious. Let’s do it again next weekend, yeah?” Except Bradley could never wait for the next weekend.

“I think so.” Although Bradley wasn’t entirely sure, their interactions a blur of emotions.

“Remember, all we can do is offer to make amends. It’s up to the other person to decide if they want to accept what we’re offering. As we’ve talked about regarding your father. And Melissa.”

Bradley squirmed internally at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. His vanishing ex. They’d been together for eight months when he worked at the restaurant. The longest job he’d had after he was forced to drop out of university due to his low GPA. Although he’d hid that full truth from his family, telling them he was simply taking time off to find out what he really wanted to do with his life. Engineering had seemed like a good choice at the time, given how much he enjoyed building things, and he hoped he might have some predisposition for the profession given that was what his father did. He’d been wrong. Bradley struggled with the academic requirements, the math and physics and material sciences. The harder the coursework became, the more Bradley felt the urge to drink, which, of course, fed back into his struggles in a devastating loop.

He’d floundered after that, hopping from one job to another, never able to hold one down for very long. Until he found an industry that not only tolerated his drinking but celebrated it. Shots with his boss during his serving shifts. Drinks after at the bar. Parties long after the bars were closed. That was when he’d met her. This bubbly, smart, outgoing waitress who seemed to adore him.

Melissa. The ex-girlfriend who had left him for reasons unknown.

“What’s important is that we change our behaviours regardless of whether the people we’ve hurt in the past will notice.”