Counting On You

by J. C. Reed

Which is not at all.

  “Hey, Vicky. Over here.”

  I turn in the direction of the voice calling my name and spy Sylvie waving from a corner booth on the east side. She’s wearing a short dress and cowboy boots that draw attention to her long, tanned legs.

  I make my way toward her.

  “Coffee?” Without waiting for my answer, she pushes her cup toward me.

  “No, thanks.” I grimace at the strong smell.

  “Not a fan?”

  “It’s not that.” I press my fingers against my temples in a futile attempt at easing the tension inside my skull. “I’m kind of sick.”

  Which is an understatement.

  I feel like I’m being squeezed into a can of sardines where even talking requires Herculean effort.

  “How’s the coffee?” I ask.

  “Worth trying, I guess. But it’s nothing like my usual blend back home. Or a good bottle of wine.” She leans over and pats my arm conspiratorially. “You’re coming straight from your counselor’s office, right?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “How do you know?”

  “I can tell from the way you look.” She grimaces. “I had my meeting yesterday and it wasn’t pleasant. I locked myself up inside my room and had a whole bottle of wine. I’m surprised you didn’t have the same idea.”

  “They serve wine here?”

  She grins. “Of course they do. We’re not exactly alcoholics, are we?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that counselor of mine could turn me into one in no time.”

  I laugh, feeling the tension slowly lifting off my shoulders. “God, I wish someone had told me about this place yesterday. I would have claimed the whole bar.”

  “There goes my plan of keeping this little secret all to myself. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut.” She joins in my laughter. “I’ll get you some tea. Wait here. Don’t move from the spot.”

  Before I can protest, Sylvie’s gone. I lean back in my seat and close my eyes for a few moments. When I open them again, I take in the surroundings. The walls are painted in yellow and green tones. Pictures of early settlements adorn the walls, and there’s a large grandfather clock in the far corner, its unnerving noise carrying over.

  Sylvie takes her sweet time, during which more patients arrive. I scan their faces, but there’s no sight of Kade.

  I realize I haven’t seen him since yesterday. A wave of disappointment washes over me, even though I don’t understand my reaction one bit. I close my eyes again, waiting for Bruce’s familiar face to flash before me. Instead, I find myself smiling as I remember my conversation with Kade.

  He’s so different from Bruce.

  In some strange way, he reminds me of my little brother and his inability to stay serious, which can be both irritating and endearing.

  “I bet they’re not rated PG-13.” Sylvie’s voice draws me back.

  I open my eyes in time to see her sliding back into her seat. On the table are two cups of tea and a bowl of fries.

  “What?”

  “Your thoughts. You looked all flushed and were miles away,” she clarifies and pushes a cup of tea toward me. “Try this. It will make you feel better.”

  Judging from the color and strong smell, it’s an herbal blend. I wrap my hands around the cup, warming my hands because it’s too hot to drink. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “I wanted to. You’re my only friend here, and there will come a day when I’ll hit rock bottom and need you.” She pushes the bowl with fries toward me.

  “Fries at ten in the morning?”

  She shrugs and pops a fry into her mouth. “They’re one of a kind.” She motions to the bowl again. Hesitantly, I grab one and take a bite, expecting my nausea to hit me with full force. The flavor is strong, oily with the slightest hint of chili. I swallow and realize I feel better.

  “You’re right. They’re good,” I say.

  “They’re the best,” Sylvie agrees. “They probably serve good food so we don’t want to leave.”

  I snort. “Like that would ever happen.”

  Sylvie shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not that bad here, you’ll see. Not when they serve fries like these.

  I cock my head. “That little statement might apply to you because you’re here of your own free will. Me, on the other hand—” I grimace “—not so much. I bet your counselor serves you coffee—the delicious, creamy kind.”

  “He actually does,” she says slowly. “Why? How’s yours?”

  “My counselor went right for the jugular without even thinking about offering me anything first. No sign of coffee whatsoever.” I stir sugar into the tea and take a tentative sip, realizing it’s still too hot to drink without burning my tongue. “This new therapy plan sucks. They should set up a vote whether we want to work together with a guy, because as far as I’m aware, I should still be allowed to voice my opinion.”

  “I don’t think this place works that way.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But one can hope.”

  “Your first session was really bad, huh?” Sylvie says after a pause.

  “It was. It was worse than bad,” I say. “I didn’t take kindly to her words, and she didn’t take kindly to mine. I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself kicked out.”

  “What happened?” Flicking her long hair back, Sylvie leans forward until I’m sure no one can hear us.

  Under different circumstances, her inquisitiveness would have annoyed me, but those aren’t usual circumstances. I feel lonely. Stuck in a place that scares me. I need a friend.

  And if I’m to be absolutely honest, I’m happy to have someone to talk to. Someone to conspire with, especially when said new friend will assist me with my plan of getting in touch with Bruce.

  “She said my feelings weren’t real,” I say.

  “Wow. Those were her exact words?”

  “No, but I’m sure that’s what she meant to say.” Pausing, I take a deep breath and release it slowly, considering my words. “She said my love for my boyfriend wasn’t healthy. I’m ashamed to say that I overreacted. I actually blew a gasket.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up, her incredulous expression inviting me to go on.

  “I might have screamed a little,” I say. “Actually, make that a lot. And I’m not even the screaming type.”

  Sylvie eyes me as I stuff another fry into my mouth. “How did she take it?”

  “To be honest, she was quite composed. As if she expected such a reaction from me.” I shrug my shoulders. “Her reply was that I’m in denial, which was the point where I stormed out, slamming the door behind me, and skipped my first mandatory lesson. Like I said, I wouldn’t be surprised if they kicked me out.”

  “They won’t do that because of a little disagreement,” Sylvie says.

  “It was a little more than that.” My words come out so low for a moment I’m not even sure I spoke them. “Things were…heated. I told her that her therapy plan sucked and that she could shove it. I also might have told her that I didn’t need therapy and that she might need it more than I do, among other things.” My hands close around the cup. I bite my lip hard to stifle the growing sense of helplessness inside me. “I don’t feel like we got along. At this point, I think I’d be better off switching counselors. Do you think they’d let me do that?”

  Sylvie remains silent for a moment. “I don’t think so. But hey, it’s her job to help you. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

  “Maybe,” I mumble. “That is, if they let me stay after my fight with her.”

  Which I don’t even want to. But if it’s the only way Bruce and I will be together again, then so be it.

  “I don’t think anyone’s ever been kicked out.” She grabs my hand over the table and squeezes it. “At this point, you need to stay positive and have faith. Just keep your head up and see what happens. Trust that everything happens for your own good and you’ll be surprised with the outcome.”

  “I’m t
rying.” I look up, my eyes burning. There’s a tight sensation in my chest, but the tears don’t come because underneath it all I still feel angry.

  Angry that nobody’s getting me.

  Angry that hurdle after hurdle keeps stopping me from being with Bruce.

  “How come you’re here of your own will?” I ask.

  “That’s pure coincidence.” She waves her hand good-humoredly, as if she saw the question coming. “When my best friend broke up with her boyfriend, I bought her a therapy plan as a gift to help her move on from him. But they worked things out. She had no need for it, so I thought why not use it for myself?”

  I laugh, my worries almost forgotten. “Why would you do that?”

  “What? Getting her a therapy gift card or using it for myself?” She shrugs her shoulders. “I meant well. Obviously I was happy for them to reconcile, but it wasn’t exactly cheap. Besides, I heard nothing but great things about this place. Maybe it was just curiosity. Or the fact that my love life’s a mess. The truth is, I think everyone needs therapy in some way or another.”

  That’s a strange statement.

  “How so?” I lean forward, eager to hear more.

  “I always seem to attract the wrong man,” Sylvie says. “Every guy I go for either doesn’t want to enter any sort of commitment or just not with me. There must be something wrong with me.”

  I stare at her. Sylvie’s beautiful. With her perfect teeth and her symmetrical features, she could easily pass as a model. Her skin is tanned and glowing—the kind of complexion I’ve always wanted rather than my pale, freckled skin. In addition, she’s tall and slender, with the kind of body you only ever see on a Victoria’s Secret runway. And then there’s the straight, glossy, blonde hair of hers that looks so natural it can’t possibly be.

  “I’m twenty-four and I can’t keep a guy committed to me for long,” she continues. “Last year I had a relationship with my married boss, and then I found out he lied to me. I thought he and his wife were separated, but obviously, that wasn’t the case. Long story short, he fired me when she found out about the affair.” She draws a long breath and shakes her head grimly. “Just so you know, I’m not a cheater. I really didn’t know. Now, I’m with someone I love, but he keeps telling me he isn’t ready for commitment.”

  Leave out the married guy account, and her story sounds so much like mine. I don’t know what to tell her, so I keep quiet and wait for her to continue.

  Sylvie grabs her cup, her hands clasping it. “It seems my life’s dominated by patterns that keep repeating themselves over and over again. No matter what I do, I can’t make it stop. So here I am with the hope of getting the bad luck that’s been following me out of my system and finally settle down with someone who takes me seriously and wants the same thing.” Her gaze shoots up to me, and her gloomy expression instantly lifts. “What about you? Why are you here?”

  “Pretty much the same. I’ve been single most of my life, not because I hate dating. It’s just hard to find the right guy.”

  Sylvie giggles as she raises her cup to her lips and takes a sip. “Come on. What’s the real reason? I know you’re not in for being single. No one gets therapy for that.”

  She doesn’t look like she’s going to drop the topic, and I’m not sure I want her to. Taking my sweet time, I take a sip of my tea and grimace at the bitter aftertaste it leaves in my mouth. “Well, there’s this guy.”

  “I knew it,” she shouts with a little too much enthusiasm.

  “It’s not really a secret.” I avert my gaze from Sylvie and peer out of the window. But instead of seeing the water and the beautiful backdrop of woods, it’s Bruce I see. “I think I was about five years old when I first realized that all I wanted was to get married. I want the white-picket-fence type of life. Have two kids. Grow old with someone who loves me. I know I’m not old enough to think that it’ll never happen, but recently all my friends from college seem to have started to settle down. Every day I go through my mail, I seem to see a wedding invitation popping up. And did I mention that my younger sister got engaged? I feel like such a failure.”

  “Why?”

  I bite my lip hard.

  Why indeed?

  “I don’t know,” I say slowly. “Maybe because my sister has it all. A kid, a house, a great boyfriend who will soon be her husband. For a while, I couldn’t stop the feeling that I was running out of time; that I’d never find someone to fall in love with. That’s when I met Bruce, and everything changed. We started to date, but then his family found out about us and he broke it off with me.” I turn my head back to Sylvie and meet her questioning frown. “His mother doesn’t like me.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me at all. Protective moms can be like that.”

  “Yeah. Except, she wants him to get back with his ex. His ex, who I’ll have to stress is rich. Her parents are friends with his, so it’s all perfect.”

  “Well, she can’t force him, can she?”

  I take a breath, pausing to calm the sudden tightness in my chest. “No, she can’t. But his mom is influential and has a real shot at being the next mayor.”

  “So?”

  “So, compared to her, and his family, in general, I’m ordinary. You need to understand that his family has a long family history of politicians that spans generations. It’s the reason we used to meet in secret in the first place. She wasn’t supposed to find out.”

  “I still don’t see how that landed you in here.”

  I nod slowly, understanding her confusion. “He never told anyone that we were dating, and I didn’t know. If I had, I wouldn’t have turned up at his parents’ house for a surprise visit on Valentine’s Day. His mom arrived early and thought I was an intruder. I tried to explain. I told her that we were dating. She called him, but he denied it.” I clear my throat to get rid of the lump that seems to have cut off my air supply. “She thinks I’m someone he met in college who’s still crushing on him and has been following him around.”

  “Wow.” Sylvie looks horrified. “What a coward.”

  “He had a good reason for lying,” I defend him quickly. “You don’t know his family. They’re crazy controlling. His mom and his ex demanded that he file a restraining order against me.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You both were dating, and yet he had a restraining order filed against you?” She sounds partly upset, which is understandable given that she doesn’t know Bruce.

  I know how this makes me sound. Like a weak woman.

  “They forced him.” My voice comes out low, choked.

  “How do you know?”

  “He told me.” I grab the spoon and start to stir the tea furiously until some of the liquid spills onto the table. “He’s apologized like a thousand times. He says he’s going to tell them when the time’s right.”

  “What’s wrong with now?”

  “Because, like I said, his mom is running for mayor and—” Breaking off, I turn my head away, hit by the same train of hurt, confusion, and turmoil I just can’t seem to get rid of ever since that fateful day. “Officially, like whenever he’s mentioned in the papers, he’s still dating his ex. He told me he’d get that sorted out so I agreed to continue to see him. We met in secret. Unfortunately, his ex saw us and went straight to his mom, weaving a story about how I was still stalking Bruce. They filed another report and before I could even realize what was happening, I was told that I had broken my restraining order. But Bruce continued to want to meet up.” I meet her frown. “He said he needed me and I told him I would always be there for him. It went on for a few weeks. Until...he stopped replying to my texts.”

  I fall silent.

  My heartbeat speeds up as I recall the events that changed my life.

  “I didn’t know what happened. Call it my gut feeling, something felt wrong. Days passed and no reply came. Finally, after about two weeks of not hearing from him, I couldn’t wait any longer, so I decided to pay him a visit, even if that meant sneaking into his parents’ house,
knowing that I would really be breaking my restraining order again.”

  “You…” Sylvie cuts me off, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, I know.” Grimacing, I peer down at my hand and realize I’ve been clutching at the cup so hard, my knuckles have turned white beneath my skin. “It was a stupid move. I don’t even know what I was thinking, sneaking in through the back door. But to be honest, I may have been a bit drunk that day.” I release the cup before it snaps into countless pieces and go on, ready to get the whole story out. “In my defense, it was my birthday; I was drunk, and like I said, I had this bad feeling. Besides, I didn’t break in. The door was open, so…anyway, as you can probably imagine, it all went wrong. He wasn’t even there that day, but his ex was, and his mom.” Catching Sylvie’s frown, I hurry to add, “They’re friends, and his mom really likes her. They’re like this huge, perfect family.”

  “What happened?” Sylvie asks impatiently.

  “The cops arrived, and they treated me like I was a criminal.” I groan inwardly, annoyed with myself for making such a bad decision when I should have known better. “It’s my fault, really. I should have insisted that Bruce make our relationship official and tell them the truth. Instead, I played along. I just couldn’t out him. I loved him that much. So, now I’m here, taking responsibility for my actions. Crazy, huh?”

  I don’t expect an answer. I don’t need anyone telling me that I was a fool in love. I know that damn well.

  Sylvie and I remain quiet for a few seconds. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable; it’s cleansing, lifting the fog that seems to have been clouding my mind for too long. She leans back, sucking in the air in a long, deep breath.

  “Wow,” she says. “Why would you want to be with someone who doesn’t tell their family about you?” A pang of anger flashes across her face. “Sorry. I don’t want to meddle in your affairs, but this…this makes me angry. You seem like a good person and he treats you like a toy he can play with. I mean, who does he think he is?”

  I shrug my shoulders, feeling oddly defensive of him. “He has a good reason, I’m sure. His parents are rich. His mom’s in the paper all the time. I just don’t fit in. So—” I shrug again, my words eluding me.