by Ws Greer
“You’re in your head a lot today,” Dr. Colson says, speaking first. Usually he opens with questions. Even the way we begin the session is different without Brandon.
After he speaks, he pauses to wait for a response from me. He’s right, I am in my head right now, but I don’t know where to begin. This week has been like being under the foot of a giant. All the weight is crushing me, and I can barely breathe. First Brandon, then my mother and all her judgmental shit, now I’m sitting in this room and realizing how different everything is without Brandon at my side. My world has flipped upside down. By the time I finish collecting my thoughts to actually speak to Dr. Colson, I have tears streaking down my face.
Dr. Colson slides over a box of tissue that he keeps on the table between us, and I quickly grab for one and grip it like a security blanket. After another silent pause for me to gather myself, Dr. Colson leans forward, drops his yellow pad on the table and speaks to me without breaking eye contact.
“It’s okay, Tessa,” he says in a hushed tone. “I can tell you’ve been through it since the last time we talked. Brandon obviously isn’t here. There have been some changes, and that’s fine. Things can happen fast like that. When you're ready, why don’t you tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you.”
I swallow hard, because there’s just something about trying to talk whenever you're emotional. The second you go to speak, tears just push their way forward like bouncers in a crowded club.
“Okay,” I mutter, before taking a steadying breath. “I’m sorry for crying.”
“Don’t be,” Dr. Colson interrupts. “We all have emotions, and you don’t have to be sorry for displaying them.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before going on. “Things have just been crazy since the last time we spoke. Brandon isn’t here because he broke up with me after our last session. Him and his stupid band went to a gig this past weekend, and we both said a bunch of things to each other, and it’s really over. Then my stupid mom, who has no idea how to be supportive, did nothing but berate, criticize, and blame me for how things ended with Brandon. She made it seem like I was wrong for not chasing after him, and begging him to love me like some sad little puppy who can't be alone. She actually told me that the older I get, the less time I have for someone to marry me, as if that’s what my whole life is dependent upon. As if the whole point of my existence is to be somebody’s wife.
“She got married when she was really young, so she feels like I should do the same thing. It’s so fucking annoying. I don’t know why she can't see that I don’t have to be like her, and that it’s stupid to chase after a man who doesn’t want to be with me. She acts like Brandon is her son, and I’m just some chick he was dating. She doesn’t even care that he broke my heart. She acts like it’s my fault. I just… I just fucking hate everything right now.”
Dr. Colson waits for a moment, letting me get out everything I need to say before he chimes in.
“Is all of that true?” I go on without even knowing I wanted to. “Am I stupid for not fighting for Brandon? Do I have to be on the arm of a man at all fucking times? Is something wrong with me because I’m twenty-eight and single? Am I supposed to have been married with two kids by now?”
“Tessa, none of that is true,” Dr. Colson answers the second I’m done talking. “First off, you're absolutely not stupid when it comes to Brandon. He ended it, and once one person in the relationship doesn’t want to be a part of that relationship anymore, then it's over. That’s the obvious part, but the most important part is knowing that you never have to chase anyone. If I’m being honest, Brandon made things much more difficult than they had to be. I don’t know if he’ll ever be as successful as he expects himself to be, but I do know that he didn’t seem to appreciate you, Tessa, and that should be a minimum in a relationship. It’s not asking too much to be appreciated and respected, regardless of what your career choices are, or even if you haven’t figured that out yet. You don’t have to be doing the same thing as your partner for them to acknowledge and be grateful for you. Brandon made it seem like being with you was his favor to you, when it’s him who should’ve been thankful that you allowed him to be with you.”
Dr. Colson sits back in his chair again and watches me for a second, but I don’t have a response other than tears. I've never heard a man speak so sincerely about how a woman should be treated. Dr. Colson is amazing. I bet he’s making some woman very happy.
“There’s something I need you to understand, Tessa,” Dr. Colson goes on as I dab my eyes with the tissue. “I don’t mean to disrespect your mother, so please don’t take this that way, but you don’t ever need a man to validate you. You don’t need anybody for that. The only person you need to validate you is you. You’re incredible as long as you believe you are. It doesn’t matter what I say, or what your mother says, or what your father says, or what Brandon says. You’re not supposed to dedicate your life to being some guy’s arm candy. You are much more than that, and anybody who doesn’t see that, isn’t worth your time. You’re a queen. You have to always remember that, because half the guys who are running around believing they are kings, are the court jesters of the world. They’re just too dumb and full of themselves to realize it.
“You are a powerful woman, and you don’t need anybody to substantiate you. All you need, Tessa, is to figure out what you want, and to go for it. You don’t have to follow someone else’s rules. So, forget about Brandon. Forget about your mother. The only person you have to please is you. The only person you have to impress is you. The only person who can legitimize you is you. The only person you have to answer to is yourself. You just need to go for what you want.”
“What if I don’t know what I want?” I ask. The tears have finally dried up, and I hope with everything in me that I’m able to keep them at bay from now on. “I’ve gone my entire life doing what other people have told me I needed to do in order to be loved, and the end result has always been heartbreak and dissatisfaction. I don’t even know what I like. I’m twenty-eight years old. How am I supposed to fix that now?”
“It’s never too late to get started,” Dr. Colson says with a smile. “Maybe it’s time you get to know yourself. Figure out what makes you happy, what you like and don’t like, and what you want out of life. Once you do that, it’ll be a lot easier to figure out what you want out of a relationship.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “That sounds a lot easier said than done.”
“It definitely is, but it’s possible. There’s no rush when it comes to learning about yourself. You go at your own pace.”
“Okay. Is that something you can help me with? I’m just not sure I can do it on my own right now. It’s kind of a foreign concept for me.”
Dr. Colson smiles again, his face shifting into something sneakier than normal, before softening and looking more familiar.
“I absolutely can help you with that,” he says, his voice overflowing with confidence.
I don’t know what this alternate version of myself would look like. I’ve always given consideration to what my mother might think before I did anything. If it wasn’t her, it was my father. If not him, it was Brandon for the last two years. I’ve never stopped to ask myself what it is I want. What do I like? What makes me happy? Now that the idea has been planted in my head, I’m dying to know the answers.
Chapter Eleven
~ Tessa ~
“I can't believe you left me at that place to fend for myself.”
“I’m sorry,” my friend Melissa screeches, throwing her hands over her face. “What did you want me to do? Emma is sick and throwing up, and Daniel had to go to work. I’m so sorry, Tessa. I’m sorry I took care of my sick daughter. Next time, I’ll leave her to fend for herself so I can be there for you in your time of need. After all, Emma is four now. She should be able to take care of herself like a big girl. I shouldn’t spoil her like I did when she was three.”
Both of us break into giggles, and I have to put my hand over my
mouth to keep from spitting out the swig of vodka cranberry I just sipped.
“Oh shut up,” I manage to say after I swallow. “I know you had to stay home because that child care center on the Air Force base will give you shit if you send your sick kid there, but now I’m giving you shit for making me face Judy alone. It’s like she knew you weren’t there, so she went extra hard on me. Next time, Danny is the one who has to stay home.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him,” Melissa says behind a giggle. Daniel works on Dover Air Force Base as a civilian engineer, while Melissa works with me at Milton Animal Clinic. So, if one of them has to stay home from work, it’s going to be Missy.
Melissa Backer has become my absolute best friend over the past eight years when she started working at my father’s clinic. She’s only a year older than me, and her sense of humor is off the charts. Missy is just the kind of person who always seems to have it figured out. She married Daniel when she was only nineteen years old, and while a normal person would’ve freaked out about being pregnant at the age of nineteen, Melissa gathered her thoughts and figured out how to make it work. She married her high school sweetheart, got an Associate’s degree, and settled down in a life I could only dream of. Now she’s twenty-nine with two kids, has been married for a decade, and seems genuinely happy with her life—minus a few sexual miscues from Danny every now and then, but there’s no surprise there.
Missy and I hit it off from the day she walked into MAC, and we haven’t slowed down since. I know all about what she goes through at home with Danny and the kids, and she knows everything about my life of drama with boyfriends and parents. She’s my secret-keeper, and I’m hers. I love her to death, because her presence always makes things easier. She lightens the mood, no matter how dark the room may be, and after a long day of my bitching mother and going to therapy, I was beyond excited when she agreed to meet me at the bar in Applebee's for a drink to blow off some steam. Missy is my relief valve.
“All right, kid. Tell me what happened with Judy,” Missy says, as she reaches for her sweating glass of Red Bull and vodka.
“Okay, so remember how I told you what went down between Brandon and me?” I begin. I turn my body in the seat to face my beautiful redheaded friend, whose hair is loose and cascading down her back like a bloody waterfall. “Well, when I got to work, expecting to have to explain everything to Judy myself, she comes at me the second I get through the door. Apparently, Brandon called her and told her everything. He even tried to make me the asshole by saying I kicked him out of my house. Of course, my mother believed what he said and got mad at me like Brandon is her favorite child. She told me I was running out of time to get married because I’m twenty-eight.”
“Ooh, the fucking audacity!” Missy barks.
“Right! She’s horrible with that shit. God, I just feel so stressed out right now.”
“Maybe you should go talk to that gorgeous therapist of yours.”
“First of all, I did go see him today,” I explain. “Second of all, don’t even start.”
“What? It’s not my fault he’s gorgeous,” Missy says behind a giggle. “I remember after we looked him up online, then I saw him leaving his office downtown one day. I was like, ‘Well hello Mr. Therapist! I think I’m due for some one-on-one time. How about we go back in there and close the door. Maybe we lay down on the couch. Maybe you show me your therapeutic cock and balls!’”
“Oh my god, Missy.”
“Shove those beautiful balls right in my face.”
“Missy!” I bellow, before diving into a laughing fit. “Something tells me Danny would have a problem with that.”
“You think?” Missy laughs again. “You know I love my Danny, but something tells me Danny isn’t packing what your therapist has dangling between his legs. That man is a god. Don’t worry, Tessa, you know I’d never lay a finger on anyone other than Danny... and myself. A girl needs orgasms, after all.”
Both of us laugh together again, and all the weight I felt on my shoulders before I made it to the bar feels like it has been lifted off. It probably has something to do with the tiny buzz I’m feeling now, but Missy is the biggest culprit. She just knows how to clear the clouds on a rainy day.
“So, can I ask what Mr. Sexy Ass said in therapy, or is that just between the two of you?” Missy asks as she adjusts the shoulder straps on her blue dress.
“Well, I don’t like to really get into it, but he does such a good job of telling me what I need to hear. I think he’s a super feminist or something, because he makes me feel empowered. Basically, he told me I don’t need anyone to validate me. He said I’m a queen.”
“Wait!” Missy puts a finger in the air. “That beautiful man told you you're a queen, and you managed to not ride him like a rollercoaster right there in the office? You’re literally the strongest woman I know.”
We both laugh. “I’m not going to try to fuck my therapist, Missy.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s my therapist!”
“Therapists still fuck! Especially this therapist. He’s a sex therapist for cryin’ out loud! I bet he’d fucking tear a girl from limb to limb with that dick. Ugh. I can only imagine.”
“He’s a relationship therapist first, sex therapist second, and why are you fantasizing about my therapist?”
“Because I can. Fantasizing isn’t cheating. I know I’m married, but you, on the other hand, can do whatever you want now that you're finally free of the world’s most annoying and talentless music producer. Or is it manager? Who fuckin’ cares. Anyway, you should be going crazy now.”
I release a loud sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re probably right, but I'm hesitant. Anytime I was single in the past, my mother was always in my ear about how I needed to meet someone. She made me feel like being single and having fun made me a whore, and when I met Brandon she was so thrilled. Now that I’m single again, I don’t know how I want to do it. I know Judy will be in my ear nonstop, reminding me over and over again that I can't be out there doing whatever with whoever, but I just feel different this time.”
“Good,” Missy chirps. “You should feel different, Tessa. You’re a grown woman. You can literally do whatever you want.”
“I know that’s true, but it’s more complicated than that,” I try to explain, but even when I say it, I’m not sure I understand or believe it.
“It doesn’t have to be, sweetie,” Missy says. “At the end of the day, it's your life, not Judy’s or Jack’s.”
Missy is right, just like Dr. Colson. It is my life and I can do what I want, and no matter how much thought I put into it, I can't shake this feeling that there’s something on me that I need to get off—some extra weight I need to put down so I can be free. I just don’t know what it is or how to get rid of it.
“Umm, excuse me.”
Our conversation is interrupted by a deep voice coming from behind me. Before I even turn around, I see the expression on Missy’s face. She looks shocked, so when I start to turn around, I don’t know what to expect. Is it Brandon coming to try to get me back?
When I lock eyes with the man standing next to the empty seat beside me, I quickly realize it is not Brandon. Brandon couldn’t look like this on his best day.
“Hi,” the man says, with a seductive smile accented by a five o’clock shadow. “Is this seat taken?”
Chapter Twelve
~ Tessa ~
“Umm,” I mutter, as I stare at a beautiful man with dark brown, and wavy hair. He’s at least six-one, with a thin frame and blue eyes. His lips are thin and he has a strong jaw paired with broad shoulders. For some reason, he’s wearing a suit in Applebee’s, but he makes it look so good I don’t even focus on why anyone would be here in a suit. Hands down, he’s the most handsome man in the restaurant, and it’s not even close.
“This seat right here,” he says with a smile that nearly knocks me from my seat. “Is it taken?”
“Uhh, no, it’s not,” I manage to force out. “It’
s all yours.”
“Thanks,” he says, and while my eyes are still bulging, I turn around to look at Missy, who mouths the words, “Oh my god.”
“So, what’s your drink?” the man says, pulling my attention back to him. “Is that a vodka cranberry?”
“Mm-hmm,” I answer between pinched lips.
“Can I get you another one?”
“Uhh…” I look over at Missy, who takes this opportunity to speak for me.
“Yes, you can. She’d love another drink,” Missy blurts, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“Great,” the unnamed man says, before waving to the bartender. “Hi. Let me get a Jack Daniel’s on the rocks, and a vodka cranberry, please.” The bartender steps away to make the drinks and returns to set them in front of my new companion. “Thank you. Here you go,” he says, sliding my new drink over to me, even though I haven’t finished my first one yet.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome. I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation, so I just wanted to make amends with a new drink. Enjoy,” he says, then he sits straight and focuses his attention on his drink and whatever is going through his mind.
I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t respond at all. Instead, I turn to face Missy and find that she looks furious.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“What?”
“Talk to him,” Missy whisper-screams, and I frown, hoping she’ll recognize my face as a signal to keep her embarrassing voice down. “Brandon couldn’t look that good if he traded faces with Jesus. You see my goofy face all the time, so quit bullshitting and talk to him.”