Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MIA
“I know, I’ll be fine, Demitri,” I say into the phone. “Seriously, I’ll be home in a little over an hour, okay?”
“Will you let me know when you leave?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Fine, sorry. Just worried.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I’ll let you know when I leave, okay?”
We disconnect the call, and I sit in my car, shaking my head and laughing to myself. Sometimes I’m not sure who the worrywart of this, whatever we’re calling it, is. I stare up at my therapist’s office, not wanting to go in, but knowing I need to. There are things we need to talk about, things I’m ready to talk about, but that doesn’t mean I don’t dread it.
“Get your shit together, Mia. Pull up your big girl panties and go tell the professional that you want to know how to have a fucking orgasm,” I say to myself in the mirror.
I take a breath and open the car door, stepping out into the warm fall day. Walking into Dr. Malcome’s office every week is like a homecoming in a way. When I found the courage and strength to get away from Brett, this was my first stop. I knew I couldn’t go back home, and as much as I loved the little town of Briar Mountain, there was no way I could continue to live there with him , knowing at any time he could pull me over or knock on my door. The Briar Mountain PD is smaller than Rock Hill’s, and he would have no reason to be on this side of the mountain. I found Dr. Malcome my first week here.
“Mia,” Sally, the lady who is really in charge, smiles as I walk through the door. “She’s ready for you.”
“Thanks,” I reply, walking through the lobby and into the inner office.
“Mia,” Dr. Malcome nods.
“Doc.”
I take my seat in the big, oversized chair and bring my legs up. Putting the pillow in front of me and holding it, I look at the doctor. “Okay, ready.”
She chuckles. This is our way. We don’t talk until I’m situated, and this has been my situation for over ten years.
“What’s going on?” she asks, eyeing me with that head shrinker look I think all therapists have.
I inhale and blow out the air in my lungs before speaking. “I want to know if I’ll ever be able to have an orgasm.”
She does a double take, her eyes blinking rapidly. “You want to orgasm?”
“I know, right?”
“Well, I guess that’s going to be up to you. I know we’ve worked on your feelings surrounding your past, but not the physicality of it. Bottom line is, having an orgasm during sex when you didn’t want to doesn’t mean you enjoyed the act going on. It means you had a physical response to what was happening, Not being able to have an orgasm now is an emotional response to the trauma you faced. It’s why finding a partner you trust is just as important as how good he might look.”
That’s right, folks, I, Mia Alexander, had an orgasm while Brett did what he did to me. I understand that it wasn’t in my control, and that I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, I understand it now. Took a few years.
“I don’t understand if I could do it during that why I can’t do it when I want to.”
“It’s all a mental game, Mia. Because of what you went through, sex in and of itself is hard. Intimacy, which most women and some men need to orgasm, is a whole other level that you have to be ready for.”
“I am ready,” I assure her.
“What’s changed?”
“I think I’m in lo—serious like with someone.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He’s put up with me for four years? He was a one-night stand who didn’t freak out and run away like the ones before him did. He came back. He became my friend. He’s been fighting for me and with me since day one, and down in his soul, he’s a good man.”
“You trust him?”
“I do.”
“You feel safe with him?”
“Yes.”
“You feel like your foundation is strong enough that you can put your mind and body in his hands and he will take care of you?”
I hesitate before answering, searching both my mind and body for the answer. “I have some anxiety over it,” I tell her. “But not fear.”
“Being anxious and stumbling into an anxiety attack because you feel threatened are two different things.”
I know what she’s saying, we’ve had this discussion before. When I opened the bar and threw up because of my nerves, it wasn’t panic induced anxiety. She’s helped me see the difference when my heart rate increases because I feel a threat and when I feel excited about something. I nod for her to continue.
“I have homework for both of us.” She grins at me while I groan. “You are going to talk to this fella. If you truly trust him and feel safe, you have to be able to talk about things, good and bad.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?” I curl my lip in mock disgust.
“Because you’re a smart, capable, logical human.”
“What’s your homework?”
“I’m going to call a colleague of mine and talk to her about ways to help you. We went to school together and her focus was on sexual health and post trauma healing. I think she might be the expert. She’s close, just over in Briar Mountain.”
“Oh?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice.
“You might know her? Dr. Thorpe?”
“Thorpe?” I gasp as recognition hits. “The Prof?”
“So you do know who she is. I think she might be willing to help us. It might be worth going and seeing her—as long as you don’t forget about me and my plain old general psych degree.”
“I don’t think you have much to worry about, Doc.”
“Shew.” She wipes her brow. “I’ll let you know when I talk to her, and we can figure out our best approach going forward.”
“Thanks.”
“And Mia, I want you to know that I’ve seen the work you’ve put in. I know you get frustrated that you aren’t where you’d like to be on all fronts, but after what you went through, the fact that we’re even having this conversation means you’re healing. Be proud of yourself.”
I stare at the woman who I credit with basically saving my life all those years ago, the tears welling up and falling. “Damnit, Doc. I was almost all the way through without tears today.”
“If you don’t cry, were you really even here?” She smiles at me and winks.
“I’m going to tell Sally on you,” I warn her.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Get on out of here. I have a call to make and you’ve got a man to talk to.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I roll my eyes.
“Mia,” she calls my name when I get to the door. “You know if you ever want him to come along, he’s welcome, right? He might have his own questions. If he’s that great, those questions will be about how to best support you.”
“Thanks, Dr. Malcome. I’ll let him know.”
I leave the office and say goodbye to Sally before escaping back to my car. Emotionally drained, I send Demitri a text letting him know I’m finished and will be home shortly. Then I call Grace.
“Mia? Everything alright?” she asks on the first ring.
“Yeah, fine. Just left Dr. Malcome’s office.”
“Ahh.”
This isn’t new. All four of us attend her practice and usually need to debrief after with someone we can really unload on. Someone who can understand because they lived through it, too.
“I asked her how to have an orgasm.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I want to know how to have an orgasm. I know it’s mental. Tied to my anxiety and fear, and I want to know how to move beyond it.”
“Did she give you any advice?”
“She’s going to call and talk to another therapist. She wants me to talk to Demitri.”
“And how do you feel about that?” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Well, doctor, I feel a little fucked up in the head about it all.”
“So… normal.”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “Basically.”
“I agree with her on this one. That man is in love with you and just wants to protect you and ensure your happiness. If anyone is going to bring your orgasm back, it’s him.”
“I know,” I whisper. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Nothing worth it is ever easy. You need to talk to him.”
“You need to talk to your boss.”
“Ahh, yes, the deflection part of the conversation.”
“Doesn’t make it untrue.”
“I know, Mia. I know. But you also know I can’t. You’re out here trying to have an orgasm because you want more sex, and the thought of having it at all freaks me out. Could you imagine James in that situation? Not only would I lose any chance I might ever have with him. I’d lose my job, and I can’t do that.”
“You’re right. God, I hope one day you find the thing you need to help you.”
“I hope you aren’t pinning all of your hopes on a man, Mia. You know as well as I do how that works out.”
“I know. And I promise you, I’m not. I want this. But I choose him to explore the option with.”
“Then you have to talk to him.”
“I have to talk to him.”
“Yes. Now get off the phone with me and go tell that man you want him to help you find your orgasm. And Mia, I hope you’re a multiple orgasm squirter.”
“Oh, my God,” I yelp, laughing “Gracie!”
“What?” She softly laughs with me. “I read about them.”
“One day, we’ll both be recipients of multiple orgasms.”
“If only. Now stop stalling and go talk to the man.”
“Yes, Mom .”
I guess it’s time to ask Demitri to help me find my missing orgasm.