But that will take time. And I don’t have time.
Or do I? It’s not like he’s called me or anything.
I squash the feeling of disappointment and glance at the clock, ever mindful of the time. That’s something that I find weird about therapy. It’s like I can hear the clock ticking away the minutes inside my head. And now I’m down to the wire. 11:58.
Where has the time gone?
I feel like I’ve gotten nowhere really. Or have I? Has she just answered my question in a round-about way?
(LauraDrake): So you’re thinking that I might be trying to justify doing something that I suspect will be harmful. Is that about it?
I hope that didn’t come out as snippy as it felt.
(Buraquinho_Dr): I didn’t say that. That’s just a hunch. It sounds to me like you want to explore this person because of his resemblance to Mason, but you’re afraid things will end badly. And rather than avoiding the pain, you’re more comfortable justifying it with the thought that it might be worth it as a therapeutic tool.
Before I can answer, she goes on.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Truthfully, without knowing all the details, which we don’t have time to get into today, I can’t truly advise you or help you come to a conclusion that’s healthiest for you. The best guidance I can give you is to say that you should try to avoid an intimate relationship until we can further discuss your mother’s role in your childhood and any sexual development you achieved during your time with her. I’m guessing some of your present dilemmas stem from that period.
She’s perceptive, just as I would expect any therapist worth their salt to be. And she’s right. As much as I wanted her to agree with Chris, I already knew the wise choice. She just reiterated it.
That doesn’t keep me from wanting to kick something in a fit of temper, though. I really wanted her to give me the green light to explore my real-life Mason. But I’m smart enough to realize that would end in disaster.
(LauraDrake): Thank you, Dr. B. Sorry I wasted our whole session with this.
She’s gracious, of course.
(Buraquinho_Dr): If it’s important to you, it’s something that needed to be addressed. We’ll get into more next time.
That reminds me of my new schedule for next week—Oregon. I might as well tell her so that she doesn’t find out some other way and think I’m avoiding her. Which I actually am. Her office is in Portland.
(LauraDrake): I’ll be in Portland next week, but I’ll still be able to log on for our sessions.
Another pause.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Thank you for telling me. I’d really like for you to consider coming into the office. I know you think you’re not ready, but you really don’t have to hide from me. I’m here to help you.
I sigh.
(LauraDrake): I know. And I’ll think about it.
Just before I log off, I see her response.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Fair enough. See you on Tuesday.
The notice pops up that Dr. B has logged off. She got the last word, one that says she fully expects me to come to her office on Tuesday.
We’ll see, I think, not having any real intention of going in for a visit.
I try, ineffectively I might add, to push all thoughts of therapists and mysterious men from my mind as I plunk down on my bed to do my nails. The doorbell rings. I know exactly who it is and she won’t be happy when she sees I’m not ready.
I walk to the door and check the peephole just to be sure. I see my sister standing in the hall, holding two cups of my favorite coffee.
I open the door.
“I’m almost ready.”
“What’s this almost crap? I told you wha—”
“I had a therapy session today, remember? Therapy I didn’t even want. Therapy someone aggravated me into taking.”
She rolls her eyes, knowing she can’t say a word about it now. “Fine. I’ll gloat until you’re dressed then.”
“Gloat?” I shut the door behind her and take a coffee cup from her hand. I remove the little stopper and take a sip. “At least you came bearing gifts. I need this after the sleepless night I had.”
Chris gasps and I glance up at her shocked yet hopeful expression. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep because you were stuck between a mattress and a hard man.”
Shaking my head, I turn back toward my bedroom. “Not everyone wants their bones jumped on the first date, Chris.”
“Yes, they do. They just won’t admit it,” she says from behind me. “Besides, I’ve never seen two people more ready for the bedroom than you and Alec.”
I’m glad she can’t see my frown. I sit down on the bed, gathering supplies to my side. I glance at all the assorted tools and accoutrements. Sadly, my mani/pedi will just have to be a fresh coat of paint. I won’t have time for anything else now.
I pick up a bottle of red polish and shake it vigorously.
“Well?” Chris says.
“Well what?”
“No comment?”
I shrug. “We might both want the same thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s good for me.”
I draw my knee up to my chest.
“Here, give me that,” Chris says, taking the bottle from me. “You do your nails. I’ll do your toes.” She pulls my foot into her lap and unscrews the cap on the polish. After she paints a few streaks of ruby lacquer on my big toenail, she blows gently on it before speaking. “I’m not gonna pry. I figure you’ll talk to me about whatever happened when you’re ready. But, Sam, you need this. You need to get back out there. And this guy is into you. What’s the problem?”
“Getting back out there is different than jumping into a sexual relationship, Chris.” I try to remain casual as I paint clear polish on my fingernails in slow, even strokes.
“Let me tell you something, Sammy,” she says, pausing in her painting to look up at me. “I’ve never seen two people with more chemistry. It’s not a matter of if you’ll have sex, but when you’ll have sex. I know it’s been a while, but it’s like riding a bike. Trust me, it’s not something you forget how to do.”
“I’m not afraid I’ve forgotten. I think that’s more the problem. That I can’t forget.”
Chris says nothing for a minute as she concentrates on getting a smear of red off my skin.
“Whatever it is that you refuse to talk about won’t be fixed by avoiding it. Even if you never tell me about it, tell someone. That’s why I wanted you to see that sex therapist. Even women who were raped—”