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“No, why do you say you aren’t good at loving anymore?” Dr. Robinson says. He adds before I can answer, “Dean knows you love him. It’s something that’s clear to him. And to me,.”
It soothes me like a balm on my aching chest, calming the anxiety and nerves that keep me up at night. “Why do you think you’re not good at loving?”
“I haven’t done it before. Not like this. And I’m scared,” I say, the confession coming out in a single breath.
“Scared of what?” he asks me.
“That one day he’ll leave me, and I won’t survive it.” I sniff, reaching for the tissues on the coffee table and keep talking without looking him in the eyes.
“I don’t know how he can forgive me so easily. He says it’s love, but I still don’t quite feel like I deserve it.”
“Because you were protecting yourself.”
“If I had trusted him sooner,” I start to say the same thing I’ve been saying for weeks. I stop myself and pick under my nails, staring blindly ahead. “I can’t change the past.”
“And your past is where it belongs, behind you. What you have now is someone who loves you and who you love in return. Someone who wants to grow with you. Someone who knows the shadow side of yourself and you know his. There isn’t much that could be more ideal than that. To love and be loved for every part of you.”
“I feel like I can never show Dean how much I love him.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. I want that to be your homework.”
“What?”
“I want you to write down ways you show Dean how you love him and how he loves you.”
I nod my head easily, feeling relieved slightly. Even if I could write it all down, Dean will never know exactly what he means to me. He knows everything, my darkest secrets, and he still loves me, without judgment. He gave me a new life and it’s complete with him in it.
I don’t think it’s possible to feel more love for that man than I do.
“Do you believe in fate, Dr. Robinson?” I speak without thinking.
“Why do you ask?” he answers my question with a question of his own and a small laugh bubbles up as I trace the edge of the coffee table with my fingers. It’s hard and unforgiving as I let my thoughts surface without fear of his judgment.
“Dean was supposed to be at that party.” It takes a moment for the good doctor to realize what I’m saying and when he does, his brow raises with surprise.
“If he hadn’t gotten suspended and in that fight with his stepdad, he would have been there.”
“And what do you think about that?” Dr. Robinson asks me.
“I think he would have hit it off with Sam.” My answer comes out choked.
“Do you think he would have ended up with her and not you?”
“I think none of it would have happened.” The words pour from me. “I don’t think any of that night would have happened.” The thought of that night being erased eases a pain inside of me, but then it comes back full force knowing that wish will never come true.
“Maybe we were supposed to be together, like fate.”
“Or soulmates,” he says.
“Whatever you want to call it.” I shrug and then add, “Maybe that’s why we felt the way we did toward each other when I first came here. Like somewhere deep down inside we knew, and Dean knew it long before me because he wasn’t as broken.”
“Do you still feel broken?” Dr. Robinson asks me and it’s such a ridiculous question.
“Of course I am.” Once you’re shattered, you can be mended but the cracks are still there. “Both of us were flawed, but together we make sense, don’t we?” I ask Dr. Robinson, and never in my life has someone’s judgment meant more to me. He simply nods as his timer goes off.
It’s time to go.
Time for a fresh start.
