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More sessions. “I barely made it to this one.”
“Was it as terrible as you were expecting?”
“No,” I admitted. “But…is this really going to help? I can try to talk to the guys more.”
“You can absolutely talk to them. Having people you trust, a strong support network who will listen, that’s vital. At the same time, therapy isn’t a cure-all, it’s a treatment plan. It’s a way to help you focus on the issues, and tackle them. I’m here to help you find the answers that work bestforyou.”
I swallowed. “So you can’t just say like, take these two pills a day for the next few days and it will clear it all up?”
“No,” Erin told me kindly. “It doesn’t work like that. How comfortable would you be coming in three times a week?”
Three times a week?
“Um…maybe two?” The guys were seeing Diane two or three times a week. “I’m not driving yet. I mean, I did drive yesterday. But it’s still challenging.” But the guys said they’d bring me, too.
“Well, let’s start with two. You came today, I would normally suggest Friday at lunch, but I already have an appointment then.” And it was Archie’s date night, and his birthday was this weekend with us racing toward Halloween.
“How about next Wednesday? Then we can do that Friday at lunch? Is this a good time for you? We can do it later in the day if you want.”
“No, this is fine.” I was really going to see a therapist.
“All right, I have you down, and it will email you a confirmation.”
I nodded and rose along with her.
“Frankie, do you journal?”
“I’m supposed to be keeping one for class, but I’m pretty behind on it.” I held up my right wrist. “The guys are doing a lot of my handwriting, and we kind of skipped over the journaling thing.”
“I can understand that, but you can still type with your left hand, yes?”
I could, so I nodded.
“Good, I want you to work on a couple of things for me between now and Wednesday. Also, if you have any questions, email me. You can call and leave a message, but it’s not always easy to get me on the phone. I check email between every session.”
After she explained my homework, she told me she was looking forward to working with me, and then it was done. I was out of the door and leaving the office building through the glass doors. Rachel was parked right where I’d left her, and she was busily typing away on her phone when I opened the passenger door and let out a waft of burgers, fries, and spotted the drinks in the cup holders.
“Hey,” she said with a grin. “I got a vicious case of the munchies after I bitch-slapped some asses on Snapchat. I doubled the order so you could eat, too.”
Before I went into the appointment, the thought of food made me want to puke, but my stomach was growling like hell as I unwrapped the cheeseburger. “Thank you.”
“Got to take care of my girl,” she told me, then clicked her phone off and glanced over at me. “So…do you want me to ask how it went, or just give you your space on that and we talk about the rest of the world?”
I took a bite of the burger and damn near groaned. While it wasn’t super hot or anything, it was really tasty. My stomach growled happily as I swallowed that first mouthful. “It went okay. I’m…I’m not sure what to do with it all. But I think I’d rather talk about other things for now, if that’s all right. She does want to see me again next week.”
“Tell me when, I’ll make sure you get here.”
“Rach, I’m really glad you’re my friend.”
“Right back atcha.” There was a moment of silence, then she said, “Now, moving on to other things—Sharon is a cunt and she must be destroyed.”
“What?”
“She decided to post more of her fun little videos.”
I groaned. I needed to add Sharon to the list of people I hated. But I just didn’t have the energy for her right now. “Of the guys?”
“No, of you and Mitch. She cut together this lovely piece of trash to suggest you led Mitch on, but phrased it like, well what was he supposed to think since everyone else is tapping you.”
