Chapter 52 Sloan
Sloan
The first thing I do in my new apartment, tucked a few blocks away from the university—the converted main level of an old, creaky house with a front porch and features that add character at the cost of practicality—isn’t have one of those nights you see in the movies.
The girl who realizes she needs to love herself first dances around her apartment, listening to music, and drinks cheap wine because she can’t afford anything else.
I sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by stacks of boxes.
I tug down the sleeves of an ancient sweater I’m wearing—it was one of Bohdan’s in college, with a giant number seventeen painted on the back that started to peel over time—along with a pair of his socks that are almost worn through at the ankles, and I open my laptop to talk to my therapist for the first time in months.
“Hi.” I lift my hand in a half-hearted wave when Lu blinks at me through the screen, chin propped up by her hand, fingers drumming along her skin. “Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.”
Lu arches a brow before giving me a look. “I actually wished I hadn’t, Sloan.”
“Well.” I try to smile, but end up wiping away stray tears. “Here I am. Already crawling back to you.”
She considers, black hair swinging across her shoulders.
“You don’t look like you’re crawling. You look like you’re in a beautiful apartment about to start a new job teaching something you used to dream about.
You might be sitting on the floor, but I’d say you’re actually standing quite tall, Sloan. ”
“I don’t think I feel tall yet.”
“You will.” Her nose scrunches sympathetically, and when she leans forward in her chair, she feels so much closer even though she’s miles away.
“So, spill. What made you call? I gave you a list of therapists that practice in Toronto so you could do some of that important, in-person work you’ve been expertly avoiding. ”
I do laugh a bit this time, dragging a knuckle under each eye before straightening my shoulders.
“I think I need someone who knows me. It was recently brought to my attention that you’re my third-longest relationship.
And seeing as one of those doesn’t really exist anymore, at least, not the same way .
. . I’d guess that makes you number two.
” I flash her two fingers in a sad attempt at deflection before blinking up at the intricate moulding carving along the ceiling and the slow, steady turn of the fan. “You remember Talon?”
Her smile pulls tight, but the tugging at the corners looks a bit like fondness. “How could I forget? He used to pick you up after sessions when you were in college and he’d ask to go through your file together because he thought he had some sage wisdom he could offer.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” I whisper. My smile is fond—and it doesn’t hurt as much as it did before the cruise, to look back at the people we used to be.
“You have good friends, Sloan. People that love you.” Lu nods before she sits back, picks up her clipboard and waits.
I tell her the whole thing in excruciating detail. And it is excruciating. It cuts me back open, my heart breaks and my ribs that used to be Bohdan’s hands crack, and I think all of me spills onto the floor of this new apartment.
“What was that like?” Lu asks gently, blinking dark eyes at me. “Being with Bohdan again?”
“Wonderful.” I don’t bother to wipe away the tears. “But a bit like a reassurance, I think. When he left . . . it wasn’t just about me as a person anymore.” I gesture vaguely to my forehead, like Lu can see my brain sitting there on display. “It was all about my worthiness of being loved by him.”
“Themes can switch.” She nods thoughtfully, and she sees it on my face—the horror that he might become something I’ll never, ever have again. “And they can switch back, and they can go away entirely. It’s not forever, Sloan.”
“Okay.”
She keeps going. “What was that like, having your worst fear come true?”
“Horrible.” I sniff a laugh.
“But you didn’t run away. You didn’t beg for reassurance or facts from Bohdan. Why?”
“I guess I just thought . . . wow, you’ve been right all along.” I tap my forehead again. “For real this time, here’s the evidence—he’s on his knees on the balcony of this stupid suite and I just got so, so tired. I didn’t really feel like fighting it anymore.”
Lu nods, looking a bit proud. “That’s not how I would describe it. It takes quite a bit of fortitude to sit with your discomfort. It sounds a bit like you practiced some ERP techniques all on your own. How’d that feel?”
“Awful, I don’t want to do it again.”
She laughs this time, head tipped back before she gives me a look that suggests I’ll actually be sitting with my discomfort more often than not, and she asks me a question that seems obvious, but I’ve never really thought of it that way. “Before Bohdan loved you, did you love you?”
“Oh.” I laugh, batting away the tears trailing down my cheeks. “No, not at all.” Lu leans forward, dark hair obscuring her face when she scribbles along her clipboard, and my eyes go wide when this horrible new fear wakes up. “Do you think that means we can never be together again?”
Her nostrils flare and her lips purse. An expertly drawn brow rises on her forehead like she’s not going to answer because she can see my brain, ready and waiting.
But she does, and I know it’s going to be the last time I hear her say it.
“No. I don’t think living with or experiencing any form of mental health challenges precludes two people from having a very happy—very healthy—relationship.
” Her pen hits the edge of her clipboard.
“But I think we’ve got a lot of work to do before you can be, and so does he. Okay?”
I imagine a me gathering up all the contents of my chest spilled out there on the floor.
I imagine that me kissing the broken hands that used to be ribs and whispering thank you.
I imagine a me that leaves them there and gets to work repairing all the cartilage and things that live in her own chest.
I nod. “Okay.”