Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
MAX
“You sold your engagement ring,” Ben says, like more of a statement despite the question in his voice.
“Well, it wasn’t mine. I sold that years ago, but hers, yes.” I shrug. Not that Chelsea ever bothered to ask me, but I had gotten a matching set for her engagement ring and wore mine religiously.
“And you don’t have any feelings about that?” Ben asks.
“I’m glad it’s gone, and I’m happy to have gotten some cash from it.”
“But no feelings about the door closing on that chapter of your life with her?” he asks.
“As far as I’m concerned, we closed that chapter years ago. This was just a ring, not like it was giving me hope we’d somehow get back together.”
“Understandable. And how did you leave things with Chelsea?” he asks.
I explain our interaction, telling him how she tried to be nice and joke with me, but I shut it down.
I wasn’t interested in being friends with my ex-fiancée.
I know some lesbians can be friends with their exes and that’s cool for them, but that definitely isn’t me.
I like to cut ties completely with my exes, not have them hanging around like old furniture.
I tell him about how I finally got to say my piece and tell her all the things I’ve left unsaid all this time.
I am a bit proud of how I was able to tell her how I feel without first talking it over in therapy.
“You didn’t want to hear her out?” Ben asks, scribbling something down.
“No. All I’ve ever done is hear her out, have her leave me at the altar, and see her move on. I got the ring back; there’s nothing else she could say that is going to affect my life in any way,” I say sharply.
“What did you feel seeing her? Any residual feelings resurfacing?” he asks.
“The only feeling I have when I think about her is anger. For so long she made me feel like shit. Like I did something wrong, but the truth is I didn’t do anything.
She just didn’t love me, and we never would’ve made it work.
We were like two puzzle pieces being forced together, but belonging to the wrong puzzle,” I say.
“I love the metaphor. You felt forced together?” Ben asks.
“Yeah, like, even the things that I didn’t love about her I liked. But she seemed to always want to change me. I thought maybe over time, marriage or life would fix it, but she just didn’t love me the way I loved her. She saved us an expensive divorce.” I sigh.
“Do you think there’s any relation from Chelsea to another one of your relationships?” he asks.
“No,” I answer too quickly. He pauses, looking at me again, as if to say think about it for real. “Do you mean Cari?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to revisit your past relationships in a safe space, especially when discussing the closure of another.”
“Fine, so what similarity does Cari have to Chelsea? They were nothing alike, except for being blonde.” It’s not like I’ve had any other relationships outside of Cari since Chelsea.
“Okay, I usually let you figure these things out, but you might need a little help here. Is it possible that your relationship with Cari failed because of your residual worries from Chelsea?” Ben asks.
“What?” I can’t hold back my response; I am baffled.
“Is it possible because of Chelsea, you weren’t able to hold a proper relationship with Cari?”
“What? No. Cari was the issue; she was too wild and always pushing for more with us.” What is he saying? Ben knows this.
“I’d like to remind you of something you once said about Cari, ‘she’s like a breath of fresh air’. You said that shortly after meeting her and spending, I believe, an entire weekend with her?”
“So?” What the hell is he hinting at? I’m getting increasingly pissed off with him today.
“So, then what happened there? How did we get to the place of you ending things?” he asks.
I think about it for a moment. Cari and I were good in the beginning; it was simple and easy.
I actually thought things were going to last long-term.
Then one night, months later, Chelsea popped up as a recommended friend, and I thought I was healed enough to look.
She was someone I loved once, but it was weird not being her friend; surely I could see what she was up to without me.
Finding out she was married stung, but the icing on the cake was learning she had married just six months after our almost-wedding.
It completely ruined me. I broke things off with Cari before they had the chance to get fucked up like they did with Chelsea.
I figured that if I was the one to end things, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much to have her out of my life.
The same thing I tried doing this time, of course, didn’t actually work either.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks: Cari wasn’t the problem; I was.
“I ended things with Cari before she could end things. Because I didn’t want to be left again.” I sigh.
“Which could be connected to…”
“Chelsea, and the way she left me. Which probably wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t know she got remarried so soon after me. Making me feel easily replaced and rejected.”
“Now, what do you think are the long-term effects of leaving people before they leave you?”
I frown. “Being alone?”
“Yes. And if that’s your goal, then that’s fine. But I know you, Max, I don’t think that’s what you actually want out of life. Someone who wants to be alone usually doesn’t ask someone to marry them and plan to be with them forever. No matter the outcome.”
“You sound like Aspen.” I roll my eyes.
“Well, she’s very insightful then. And if I recall correctly, your best friend. So maybe we’ve got a point?”
“I-I don’t want to be alone.” My voice cracks, and I clench my jaw to keep from crying. I hate fucking crying. It’s not me.
“Now this is not to persuade you one way or another, but is it possible if you were honest with Cari about how you felt and you didn’t leave her preemptively that things could’ve worked out?” Ben asks.
I pause to consider what he said. I’d never considered that before.
I was the type to leave and not think twice about it.
That’s why I had one-night stands, I didn’t have to think about them once I left.
I didn’t say I’d call the next day or promise to see them again.
When I met Cari, that’s all I thought she was and would ever be.
Even after spending more time with her, I still thought it might have been temporary.
It wasn’t until she’d already worked her way into my heart that I knew I wasn’t getting out unscathed.
She had taken the time to see me, the real me that I too often hid.
Sure, she loved fucking me, but she also loved seeing the person behind the strap.
Too many times, we’d text all night, talk on the phone, and spend time going to places late at night just to see each other.
I hadn’t wanted to admit what it was, and for a while, I think she knew that and was just happy being with me in any form.
It was too scary for me to admit that she could be anything more than my friend with benefits.
Despite the benefits becoming more and more intimate.
I had lied to myself about the sex being so good because it was intimate.
It was just us; it didn’t matter that she looked into my eyes or that I loved falling asleep in her arms. I was lying to myself until I no longer could.
Until I was falling in love with her, and I knew how horrible it would feel when she left me.
“What are you thinking about right now?” Ben asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
It’s then I feel the tears that have been pouring down my cheeks. I glance at the clock, noticing our time is up. “I-I have to go.” I mutter.
“I don’t have another client coming in for a bit. Why don’t we keep going?” Ben suggests softly.
I nod.
“Tell me where you went just now when you were quiet. What was your thought process?” he asks.
“I was thinking about how happy Cari made me in the beginning. How she made me feel seen and how that—how that scared the shit out of me,” I admit.
“Because it had been so long since someone had? Or because no one ever had?”
“Because no one ever had. Chelsea and I weren’t compatible in the same ways.
She didn’t know me the way Cari did, and she definitely didn’t try to see me in the same ways.
I couldn’t lie to Cari the way I could with Chelsea.
No matter what I did or said, I knew she saw through me,” I admit, wiping my eyes.
Ben hands me a box of tissues and I take it, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose.
“You seemed to have made a breakthrough. How are you feeling?”
“I fucking hate crying. Why did you do this to me?” I grumble. My cheeks are wet, and my eyelashes feel heavy. At least I don’t wear makeup or anything because that would be gone by now.
Ben laughs. “You know I didn’t do anything. Therapy is all about giving you the tools to do it yourself. I’m only the facilitator.”
“I didn’t think it was so deep.” I toss the tissues in the garbage by the end of the couch.
“How do you mean?” he asks.
“I thought it was simple, that I wasn’t looking for a relationship and Cari was, and it was over. But it was way more fucking complicated than that, apparently.”
“The subconscious plays a large role in things, but especially relationships. That’s why I asked if it was possible your closure with Chelsea had affected anything else,” Ben explains.
“But you’re not saying to go back to Cari?” That was the only part that confused me. Had I been wrong for ending things?
“I’m not saying anything. If you’re content with your life now, then I would advise leaving things as they are. But should in the future you meet someone, I’d ask you to consider staying with them even if it scares you.”
“What if it seems like they’re going to leave?” I ask.
“Let me ask you something. When Chelsea left you was that something you survived?”
“Well, yeah.” I furrow my brows at him.
“So why wouldn’t you survive someone else leaving you? Are they somehow the ones keeping you together?”
“Well, no.” I frown.
“So, leaving or being left. Either way is something you can get through. Maybe next time you’ll be able to be honest with your partner, or at least see how things can be without leaving anyone first?” he suggests.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll take it! Now I do have a client coming next, but I’m happy to pick this up next week.” Ben smiles.
“Thanks, Ben.” I gather my things and take a deep breath before leaving.
I skip my normal routine of grabbing coffee and breakfast. A little because I am worried I’ll run into Ava at the café, but a little because I feel like going home.
I just want to be alone with my thoughts for a bit, and I can make coffee at home for once.
Therapy has taken a lot out of me, and I just want to soak up what happened.
Sometimes it is easier to leave therapy at the office, on the couch with Ben.
But sometimes, like today, it is better to marinate in it.