Dania sat up a little higher. “There’s no way, Stu. Ells hates that guy.”
Stu grabbed another beer and popped the top, taking a drink. “I don’t think she does. I think our Ellie is a pathetic freak lover. Maybe she’s a freak too. What do you think, D?”
Dania was looking at me like I had killed her cat. “What the fuck, Ellie?” she hissed.
“You’re on something,” I blustered. But they were looking at me like they knew.
“I don’t think I want to hang out with a fucking freak lover,” Stu said blandly, his eyes cold.
“Me either!” Dania exclaimed, the fucking traitor.
“I’m not a freak lover!” I shouted defensively. Stu kept drinking his beer and Dania glared at me like she hated me.
And then I got mad.
They didn’t want to be around me because of Flynn. And Flynn didn’t want to talk to me either. He had given me his friendship and then had taken it away. It didn’t matter that I had pulled away first. It was his fault I felt this way.
I hated him.
I grabbed the box of fireworks.
“You know, Freaky hates loud noises,” I mused, looking down at the colorful explosives.
“Yeah, so?” Stu asked.
I held up the box. “Wanna go make him wet himself?” I asked, grinning maliciously.
Stu laughed and Dania whooped. “Hell yeah!” she shouted.
We finished our beers before heading over to the Hendrick’s house.
It was time to prove that I wasn’t a freak lover.
That I hated him as much as everyone else did.
So why didn’t my heart believe me?
**
I did not want to go with Flynn to his therapy appointment.
I felt like stomping my foot and refusing to go.
When I was a kid, Julie would take me to counselor after counselor, hoping one of them would provide the magic fix to make me a happy and healthy little girl. I would be forced to sit in an office with a stranger staring at me as though I were under glass.
Some of them tried to play with me. Some of them asked tons of questions that I refused to answer.
Some of them had tried the tough love approach and went straight for the subject of my mother.
None of it had been successful.
I had come out of each and every session the same I had been before going in. Julie tried everything from play therapy to support groups. She had me evaluated and put on a meds. She was convinced I just needed the right combination of drugs and therapy to be all better.
But I would never allow my guard to drop long enough for any of it to work. Therapists and doctors had tried to get past my impenetrable wall but with no luck.
After a while Julie stopped making counseling a requirement on my service plan. And I swore I’d never walk into another shrink’s office ever again.
Yet here I was, getting ready to walk into the lion’s den all over again. Love made you do things you’d never consider doing on your own.
Fucking love.
I knew Flynn relied on his counselor for a lot. He used to talk about Kevin, his therapist in North Carolina, who he saw while he went to college. I knew that both Kevin and now Leonard worked with him on his social skills and how to react to stressors without losing his shit all over unsuspecting bystanders.
I saw firsthand that their efforts were working. Flynn, while still brutally honest, was learning that sometimes what he thought didn’t necessarily need to be said.
He was less likely to melt down over seemingly trivial things. His OCD was still obviously present but he was trying to be more flexible. Letting wash the clothes and sheets was a huge step for him.
But that didn’t mean that I was ready to sign up for my own head examination.
However, Flynn had asked me to come. I knew that being together required that I incorporate all facets of his life into mine. Otherwise we’d never work. I had just really hoped that wouldn’t include his therapy.
But we were too complicated. On our own, we were too problematic. And if Flynn was willing to go to New York, the least I could do was see his therapist and help him feel more comfortable with the plan.
Standing outside the brick office building I wanted to stomp my foot and cross my arms over my chest. Suddenly, I was ten years old again and I knew exactly what was coming. Lots of questions, lots of bullshit suggestions. I wanted none of it.
Flynn stood, not so patiently, just outside the door, frowning at me.
“My meeting is in ten minutes. I like to go inside and have a glass of water and read the new magazines. I always do that,” Flynn said, his hands jammed in his pockets and I knew it was so he wouldn’t rub them together. My attitude was clearly bugging him.
My feet wouldn’t budge. I wasn’t moving.
I think I very well may be on the brink of a panic attack. I had therapyphobia. Was that a thing? Because I thought it definitely should be.
Flynn let out a grunt of frustrated annoyance and then left me outside. He literally slammed the screen door in my face.
I took a deep breath and finally went inside. Flynn was standing at the water cooler, filling a plastic cup. The receptionist looked up at me as I entered.
I jerked my thumb in Flynn’s direction. “I’m with him,” I muttered, ducking my head and sitting down quickly. I wanted to blend into the upholstery and not be noticed. The waiting room was uncomfortably full.
Was it talk to a shrink day and I hadn’t realized it?
I had never been to Wheeling before. I had lived my entire life less than thirty minutes away and this was my first time here. Too bad it was too see a freaking therapist. I was feeling grumbly and cantankerous.
Flynn came over and sat down beside me. He sipped on his water and picked up a magazine that lay on the small table in front of him. He skimmed through the pages before dropping it and picking up another one. He never said anything. He was completely engrossed in his routine.
“Maybe I would have liked some water,” I remarked, embracing my surliness.
Flynn handed me his full cup. “We can share,” he offered but I shook my head.
“I thought you were thirsty,” he replied.
“Never mind,” I huffed.
I started tapping my fingers on my leg nervously. Flynn glanced at me, obviously irritated. “Can you stop that?” he asked sharply.
I curled my fingers into my palm and bit down on my lip. Why was I so worried? What did I think was going to happen? That Leonard, super shrink, was going to cut open my head and pull out all of my horrible, ugly secrets?
I was being ridiculous. But something about being there triggered an instantaneous fight or flight response. It reminded me too much of being a little girl, sitting in waiting rooms just like this, with a frazzled social worker beside me, hoping one day I’d be all better.
“Flynn,” a male voice said from across the room. Flynn didn’t get to his feet right away. He continued to look through the magazine in his hand.
“Flynn, I think you’re being called,” I whispered. Flynn ignored me, thumbing through the rest of the pages.
Only when he was finished did he put the magazine back on the pile on the table and got to his feet. He looked at me and nodded his head towards the man waiting for him. “That’s Leonard,” he said and I was surprised. Leonard looked nothing like I expected.
The therapist was much younger than I had imagined him being. I remembered the counselors I had seen as a child looking positively ancient. But Leonard appeared to be in his mid-thirties with thick, brown hair and kind eyes that matched his blue shirt. He sported a hipster beard, groomed and immaculate. He was good looking in a totally non-threatening way and when Flynn and I approached him, he moved aside, waving us into the office behind him with a smile.
“Flynn, good to see you,” he greeted, his voice deep and pleasant.
Flynn didn’t respond. He simply walked into Leonard’s office, and I followed, wondering how f
ar I’d get if I made a run for it. Leonard closed the door behind us and went to have a seat on a comfortable looking armchair.
“You must be Ellie. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Leonard said and I actually thought he meant it. He didn’t put out his hand for me to shake and he didn’t seem to expect me to respond. He was completely casual and laid back. Like the kind of guy you’d go have a beer with.
That is if you wanted to have a beer with a therapist who was waiting to pick you a part.
I didn’t smile. My face felt frozen. I joined Flynn on the small love seat that was pushed against the far wall. Flynn immediately repositioned the cushions and then proceeded to take his shoes off, tucking his feet under the couch.
What in the world? Was there some sort of rule about taking off your shoes? Should I take mine off? I didn’t like the thought of sitting around in my socks.
“You don’t need to take your shoes off, Ellie. Flynn likes to because it makes him feel more comfortable when he’s here. It’s not a requirement.” Leonard explained. His voice, smooth and low made me want to curl up and take a nap. How in the hell did Flynn stay conscious talking to him for an hour?
“Why do you take your shoes off?” I asked Flynn. He was sitting up, perfectly straight, his hands folded in his lap and his sock covered feet flat on the floor.
Leonard watched us closely and my initial ease dissipated a bit.
“I like to be comfortable when I come here. I used to do the same thing in Kevin’s office. I like the feel of the wood floor under my feet,” Flynn explained.
“Flynn has certain routines that he adheres to in order to feel balanced. Like how he has to listen to a specific type of music when he drives or how he can only wear a particular brand of shirt,” Leonard said and I found myself bristling at his comment.
“I know all this about him. This isn’t new to me,” I stated sharply, annoyed that he felt he knew more about Flynn’s inner workings than I did.
Leonard only smiled, as though I weren’t being completely rude. “Of course you know this about him. You live together. You’ve been in each other’s lives for years. His habits must be very familiar to you.”
I glanced at Flynn to find him watching me just as closely as Leonard was. My cheeks became hot under their scrutiny.
“Look, I came today because Flynn asked me to. It was a big deal for him. I’m not sure what your expectations are for this session, but I want to be clear on something right from the start. I’m not here to address my issues. Whatever you think they are. I want to support Flynn and help make things easier for him but this is not about me.”
Flynn frowned, clearly not happy with my announcement. “Why are you being so disrespectful, Ellie?”
“It’s okay, Flynn. Ellie is just telling me how she feels which is a good thing, right?” Leonard said, addressing Flynn.
Flynn’s eyes met mine and he nodded slowly. “Yes. I want to know how you’re feeling. It’s important to me.”
I wished more than anything that we weren’t in Leonard’s office because I wanted to hold him desperately. I made do with lacing my fingers through his and pressing the back of his hand against the side of my leg.
“You don’t seem very comfortable. You don’t like being here,” Leonard deduced, noticing my death grip on Flynn’s hand.
I grunted in response, having degenerating to caveman modes of communication.
Leonard’s eyes seemed to see way too much, and I squirmed. “So, Flynn, you seemed pretty insistent that you bring Ellie with you today. Is there a particular reason?” the therapist asked, thankfully not looking at me anymore.
Flynn wiggled his fingers from grasp and sat up straighter, if that was possible.
“Ellie wants me to go to New York City with her. She wants to visit her friend. I’m nervous and I don’t want to go. I want to stay here and go to work and come home and not be around so many people. But Ellie wants to go and I want to be with her,” Flynn looked at me, his eyes inexplicably sad. “I know she wishes I could be different. That I could do things like go away to new places and not get upset about it. I want that too.”
My heart thudded in my chest and I instantly felt horrible. I had no idea that he thought that. That he believed I wanted him to be someone that he wasn’t. Then I thought of the dreams that had been plaguing me for weeks. Dreams of Flynn as he could have been if he had been born without his disability and I felt guilty. Maybe I had unconsciously been giving him that impression.
Was I making Flynn feel like he wasn’t good enough?”
“Flynn, I don’t want you to—“ I began but Flynn cut me off.
“I just want to go and be with Ellie,” Flynn finished, still looking at his counselor and not at me.
“Okay, well let’s start with the first part of what you just said Flynn. So you want to go to New York City with Ellie. I think it’s a great idea,” Leonard said firmly.
“You do?” I asked, not sure I heard him correctly.
Flynn’s frown deepened. “It will be noisy and busy. And there will be murderers and pick-pockets. And the smog will be bad—“
“And it could be the perfect opportunity for you to push those limits that we always talk about,” Leonard interrupted. “Ellie will be with you. She won’t let anyone murder you or take your wallet.”
“Well obviously,” I commented dryly, looking from Flynn, who was fidgeting in his seat, to Leonard who was calmly regarding both of us.
“Ellie will be with me,” Flynn repeated, nodding his head, squeezing his hands together in his lap.
“We can discuss strategies to help you cope with the trip. Planning is important. Isolating triggers is essential. And we’ll get to that. But I think we really need to discuss the other thing you said,” Leonard began, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees.
Oh shit, here we go. The shrinking had officially begun.
I felt my stomach twist painfully.
“Why do you think she wants you to be different? Ellie, have you ever said that to him?” Leonard asked and I felt my temper flare defensively.
“Of course not! I’d never say something like that!” I all but yelled.
Leonard lifted his hands, palms out in a placating gesture.
“I’m not accusing, Ellie. I just want to get to the root of why Flynn thinks that,” Leonard assured me. I was on high alert, not liking where this discussion was going…at all.
Flynn had reached out to grip my hand again and I held back just as tightly. I felt sick inside. He thought I wanted him to be different.
Did I want him to be different?
Of course I didn’t.
Did I?
Flynn wouldn’t look at me and his grip on my fingers was beginning to cut off circulation. I wondered if he even realized he was holding my hand.
“She gets angry a lot. She doesn’t smile or laugh like she used to. I painted the living room yellow and I built a shelf by the window for her favorite sculptures. I make sure there’s always peanut butter and jelly in the cabinets and I sleep on the right side of the bed because she likes to face the doorway.”
I tried to swallow around the thick lump in my throat. My mouth was dry and my eyes dangerously wet. He sounded hurt.
Betrayed.
Somehow, in the last month, a chasm had opened up between us that I hadn’t realized was there until that very moment.
“Flynn,” I said quietly, softly under my breath.
He either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore me. “Ellie wants to go places. She wants to go to New York because her friend lives there. I have to go because that’s what she wants. I want to be a good boyfriend.”
“You are a good boyfriend,” I stated emphatically. I hated that this conversation was happening without him looking at me and with a third party present. I had no idea that he felt this way. Had he been trying to tell me and I just didn’t hear him?
I had been so fixated on my own situation. Not being able to find a j
ob. Living in Wellston again. I had been oblivious to how my negativity was affecting him.
This proved that the selfish Ellie was never very far from the surface.
“Ellie, I can tell hearing this upsets you. Why is that?”
I wanted to roll my eyes. His clichéd observations made me want to hit something. I narrowed my eyes at Leonard and focused my ire directly at him. “I don’t feel this discussion requires an audience. I’d like to talk to Flynn alone,” I said through clenched teeth.
Flynn shook his head. “I want to say this with Leonard here.”
“Flynn, I really think—“ I began but Leonard interrupted me just as he had done to Flynn earlier.
“I know this is uncomfortable. It has to be strange talking about serious, intimate things with a complete stranger sitting here listening in. I know you think I’m sitting here analyzing you, Ellie. I’m not. I’m just trying to get a sense of what things are like between you and Flynn. Now he obviously thinks you want something from him that he can’t deliver. That’s going to create a lot of strain in your relationship. And I’m picking up on some, maybe resentment, with you. Some anger perhaps.”
“I’m not angry!” I fumed, stupidly confirming his remark.
“Okay, let’s take a minute here before things become even more tense.” Leonard folded sat back in his chair and wrote something on a pad of paper. Was he writing notes about me? What the hell?
“There are issues here. Big ones. Wouldn’t you agree?” Leonard asked, looking first at Flynn then at me.
I shrugged, refusing to answer him. Flynn shrugged too.
“Ellie, Flynn has told me about your history and I understand that you have a lot of things in your past that maybe you haven’t had a chance to really work through,” Leonard ventured carefully.
Ugh! Here we go! The millionth go around about my freaking past!
“And I don’t plan on doing that here, okay,” I warned. My fingers had gone numb and I tried to wiggle them free of Flynn’s constricting grasp. But I couldn’t budge him. I was trapped.
In more ways then one.
“I think you feel guilty,” he surmised.
“About what?” I demanded.
Chasing the Tide Page 19