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“What happened with the girl?”
I glance down at the menu even though I’m familiar with it. I probably should’ve chosen a different restaurant than Brittany’s favorite, but it was the first that came to mind.
“Trace,” Will pushes.
“Why the fuck do you care? I thought you didn’t want to hear anything about her.”
Will doesn’t seem bothered by my annoyance with him. “Just curious. Last time you mentioned her, it was to cuss me out for the meds she was on. Quite a big change from being so worried about her to not wanting to talk about her.”
Our waiter appears and he buys me some time as he takes our drink orders. But once he walks away, Will just stares me down. I absentmindedly grip my neck and then lean forward. Will is the only one who knows my history.
“Look, I’ve been having suicidal thoughts again and I couldn’t deal with both, okay? I can’t tell her that, and I can’t stand lying to her. I need to fix me again.”
I’ve caught Will’s full interest as he leans forward. “How bad?”
“Not as bad as before. All I’m doing is thinking about it here and there. No attempts have been made. You get why I broke up with her, right?”
Will shakes his head. “No, I don’t get why you are constantly pushing away your support. You did it when this shit first started, you did it before your mom died, after she died, when you were married, and now once again. You need to see a therapist, and if you laugh at me again, I’m going to punch you in the throat.”
I fold my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair as the waiter places our drinks in front of us. I order what I got the last time I was here. Once he walks away, Will starts in on me again.
“You’ve never seen one, and you desperately need to. Don’t feed me that bullshit about how since you are one you don’t need to see one, either. You got issues you need to deal with. Have you even told your father yet about the depression?” I stay silent and he shakes his head. “How long ago did you break up with her, and what have you been doing since?”
“Did it Friday and been in bed since.”
“I’m telling you this as your psychiatrist. You need a therapist.”
“Have you heard from her?” Okay, so maybe I will ask about her, just to get off this subject.
Will narrows his eyes. “You know I’m not discussing my clients with you unless—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Why do you care if you broke up with her?”
“Because I love her,” I mutter.
He laughs. “You definitely need therapy.”
He spends the rest of our lunch alternating between convincing me why I need therapy and filling me in on what’s new in his life. My mind keeps straying to Brittany, though. Eventually, I interrupt my friend.
“I broke up with her because I felt like we were feeding each other’s depression. Like we were hurting each other more than helping.”
Will eyes me for a moment. “It’s possible, especially since you like to keep stuff to yourself. Another reason why therapy would be good for you. You almost sound like you plan to get her back.”
I poke at what’s left on my plate. “I do, eventually.” Damn, I hate that word. “Once I get my shit together, I plan to try.”
“You’re insane.”
“You don’t think it’ll work?” Something else I’m already worrying about. I don’t want to let her go forever. Just long enough for me to get my head on straight.
“I think it sounds like it’ll be hard to do. Going to therapy might help you out once that time comes.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Will gets a phone call. “Dr. Gunner,” he answers and then listens. “Really? That’s great.” He pauses again. “Yeah. I’m on my way. Give them all the time they want. I’ll have a better chance if you leave them be. Thanks for letting me know.” He hangs up and waves the waiter over. “I need to go. That emergency business needs some attending. Keep in touch and go to therapy, all right?”
“Yeah, okay. Go ahead. I’ve got the bill.”
