by M. Leighton
“Okay. What’s the catch?”
His pause tells me that this is the bad part. “It’s in Portland.”
“Portland? Portland, Oregon?”
“Yes.”
I sigh loudly. After giving it a few seconds of thought, however, I begin to think a short trip might not be such a bad idea. At the very least, it would be a distraction.
“Is that it?”
“Well…”
Oh, God! There’s more?
“A-ri,” I say warningly.
“Well, there is a huge book retailer out there that is holding a signing and would love for you to come.” I’m just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he adds, “On Friday.”
“What? That’s almost a week, Ari. You know I can’t do that.”
“You can. You just don’t want to.”
“I have responsibilities here. You know that.”
“You mean the cat.”
“Yes, the cat. Among other things.”
Vaguely, I hope he doesn’t ask for a list. Sadly, Jinx is the biggest reason. Really, there’s no one else in my life who would miss me if I left for a week. Other than Chris. And maybe my parents. Besides them, my life is sorely lacking in loved ones to fill it.
Alec’s face flashes through my mind. If I had plans with him, my answer would be a definitive no. But I don’t. Because he hasn’t called.
Maybe it would be good to get away for a while. Maybe that’s what I need. Maybe my judgment is compromised by all that has happened lately. By Alec. And Mason.
Impulsively, I agree. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
Judging by his response, Ari really didn’t think I would. It’s terrible that I give him such a hard time over things like this, but I really do hate leaving Jinx with Chris. And Chris hates it, too.
But this time, I think it’s needed.
“Yes. I will.”
“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He gives me the details of my itinerary, assuring me that all of it is with my assistant, Annabelle, who will be forwarding the information via email so I won’t forget.
“Thank you so much for doing this. Really. It will be great for us. For you.”
“Mmm hmm, I like how you added me second.”
“Hey, what’s good for you is good for all of us.”
I glance at the clock. Time to go log on for my session.
“Gotta run, Ari. Will we be flying together? Or am I meeting you there?”
“I’ll meet you there. I’ll find you at the baggage claim carousel.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I hang up and go to the secure site Dr. B uses for therapy. Although I’m still a couple of minutes early, I’m surprised to see that she hasn’t logged on yet. As I wait, my mind spins toward Alec once again, Alec and the dilemma I face with him. Seven minutes have passed by the time Dr. B logs on. It’s just enough time for me to talk myself into asking her opinion about Alec.
She should be good enough at her job to be able to give me sound advice without knowing every detail of my past yet, right?
I see the notice that she has logged on, and before she even has a chance to greet me with her usual brief-but-pleasant therapist “small talk”, I launch into my question.
(LauraDrake): I know you have lots of delving into my past to do, but I have a question. I need your advice about something, if you don’t mind.
There’s a short pause during which I wonder if she’s considering if she should agree or stick to her own methodical psychological dissection.
I’m pleasantly surprised and relieved when she agrees. Well, when she sort of agrees.
(Buraquinho_Dr): What’s the question?
It’s my turn to pause as I think of the best way to word it. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I won’t be able to get her best guidance if I don’t go ahead and tell her at least a little bit of what my problem with Alec is.
(LauraDrake): For reasons we have yet to discuss, I haven’t been able to have an orgasm. It has to do with some things that happened to me when I was younger. The problem is that it’s very problematic in any sexual relationship I attempt.
There’s only a short pause.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Go on.
So I do.
(LauraDrake): I’ve met someone. He reminds me of Mason Strait, my main male character. I know that’s probably a whole session right there, but I need more immediate help.
I frown when I read her response.
(Buraquinho_Dr): So what’s your question?
I don’t want to get into a discussion about Alec per se. I just want to know if engaging in a sexual relationship with him could possibly help me.
(LauraDrake): I’m considering a sexual relationship, but they always end badly. Devastatingly, actually. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve even attempted it. I’ve not really been interested until now.
Her question is a good one.
(Buraquinho_Dr): And why are you considering one now? With this man?
I have to take my time answering, simply because I know what she’ll probably say if I’m blunt and honest.
(LauraDrake): I’m very attracted to him.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Why?
And there’s the kicker. Is it because of Alec himself, of who and what and how he is? Or is it because he reminds me so much of a man that lives only inside my head?
When I don’t answer, Dr. B prompts me.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Is it because he reminds you of Mason?
She reads me well. Even though it’s not only because he reminds me of Mason, it has a lot to do with it.
(LauraDrake): Yes. At least partly, I think.
I can almost hear Dr. B clearing her throat. At least that’s how I imagine the session going.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Do you think it’s healthy to begin a relationship, especially one that you already expect to have issues with, on grounds such as those?
Who’s the therapist here? I’m supposed to be asking the questions and she’s supposed to be answering them.
(LauraDrake): Probably not, but do you think there’s a possibility that this might help me in some way? Be cathartic somehow?
The cursor blinks as I wait.
(Buraquinho_Dr): Well, first of all, I think you’d like to think it will help you, but I believe you have your doubts that it will or you wouldn’t be asking me. In my opinion, you are seeking someone to agree with you, to justify you going forward in this relationship. Secondly, I can’t know if it might be cathartic if I don’t know the root of the problem. There is the possibility that it could worsen things. I can make deductions and assumptions, but those won’t really help. I’ll need more information.
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—”
“I wasn’t raped, Chris,” I interrupt. I don’t want her mind going in that direction, although I think it’s very curious that it did.
“Well, whatever happened, you can’t let it ruin your life.”
“It’s not ruining my life. I—”
“Sam, when you’re afraid to date because you’re afraid of sex, it’s ruining your life. I don’t want you to be alone.”
I look up and meet her eyes in a moment of bald honesty. “I don’t want to be alone either.”
“Then fix it. Take the leap.”
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“That’s what therapy’s for. And, hopefully, that’s what Alec is for.”
“I think we need to talk about something else, like how happy I am that your life’s ambition wasn’t to work in a nail salon. Did you get any polish on my actual toenail?”
“Oh, stop. They don’t look that bad,” she assures, tilting her head to one side as she considers her work.
“Well, they’ll have to do. I don’t have time to repaint them,” I say with finality, hoping she’ll take the hint and drop this conversation.
“Sam, promise me something.” Chris lays her hand on my knee, her expression serious. “Please don’t let yourself get in the way of happiness. Lots of people have less-than-ideal childhoods and—”
“Less than ideal? That makes it sound like my parents got divorced or I had to get a job at sixteen.”
“Okay, horrible. But still, you’re not the only one who has a lot to overcome.”
Chris is right. In fact, she’s one of those people. She has her own story from the school of hard knocks. Her issues are just a little more…typical than mine.
“Here, blow,” I say, sticking my foot in her face as I try to lighten the mood and change the subject.
“That’s what he said,” she says deadpan, easing the tension and causing us both to laugh.
“All right,” I say, scooting off the bed. “Now stop harassing me and get out of here. I need to figure out a way to get dressed without ruining my nails.”
“What kind of a sister would I be if I stopped harassing you?”
“Somebody else’s, I guess.”
“You know it,” she replies sassily, strutting to the door and swinging it closed behind her.
CHAPTER TWELVE- Alec
I stretch back in my black, padded-leather chair and look out the window. The view is one of the biggest benefits to working from home. The sky is blue, the sun is bright and that sand is calling.
I think a little horseback riding on the beach is in order.
After a vigorous workout and plowing through most of my morning task list, I’m feeling pretty good about myself. I know those a
ccomplishments aren’t responsible, though. I’m feeling proud and in control because not only did I not seduce Samantha Jansen last night, which would’ve been all too easy, but during my sleepless night, I made up my mind to stay away from her. For both our sakes. And today, I’m feeling much better about my progress and the level of common decency to which I’m capable of rising.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have been able to say no, when I wouldn’t have been able to exercise self-control. Well, that I just wouldn’t have, not that I necessarily couldn’t. It’s only been in recent years that I’ve really wanted to get out of such a destructive cycle. It’s hard to want to stop something that feels so good and that satisfies you on so many different levels.
It’s not really that the activities themselves are bad. It’s more the end result. Once I’ve had my fill of a woman, I lose interest. Completely. I seduce, I dominate, I control and I abandon. It’s why I try to be honest about it up front, about what I want and what she should expect. About what I’m capable of, emotionally.