65. Bash #2
He waves me off. “Fine, fine, go on. Wait—who are we talking about? Are we talking about—”
I stare up at the ceiling. “Yes…her.”
“Hmm, so this has turned into romantic feelings?”
His expression is shocked for a moment, and then he starts smiling.
I nod.
He mirrors my nod, waiting for more, and trying to put the puzzle together in his head before I’ve given him any of the other pieces.
“Well, at the beginning of this school year, she showed up at the recovery group I’m facilitating for my clinicals—”
“Whoa, time out,” he interrupts. “Why didn’t you tell me she was in your group? And we’re talking about a girl in the ‘maybe romantic sense’, and you’re talking about the recovery group? Isn’t there like big ethical no-nos around that kind of thing?”
“Well…I was getting there if you’d stop interrupting.”
He makes the universal movement of sealing his lips shut and raising his hands.
“Like I was saying…we’ve kind of just gotten…
closer? I think…at least it feels that way, but yeah, ethics and rules and all that fun stuff have always been there, so nothing has happened.
But we also have a Psych class together…
and it just feels like all these things keep throwing her back in my path and in my life, and I think… I think I really like her, Erik.”
“Okay, so…“ Erik says. “You like her.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
“Mm, I knew you smelled love-sick lately.”
I roll my eyes, and he continues. “Okay, so she’s also in the group you’re co-facilitating.”
I shake my head. “Was.”
His eyebrows raise up. “Was?”
“Yeah, Dr. Alvarez offered me the slot in the suicide loss group. Starts next week.”
Erik leans back, mouth making that “oh” that’s half congratulation, half plot thickens. “First of all, congrats. Second of all…yeah, that changes the whole game here, huh?”
“It loosens it,” I say. “Doesn’t make it free. She’s still in recovery. I’m still…me.”
“Still a human with a pulse, yeah. And? What’s the question you’re actually asking?”
I rub my hands over my face. “Am I an idiot if I even…consider this? Like, would it be a bad idea for both of us? Would we just be walking each other into a slow-motion car crash? Or…”
Erik studies me for a beat. “Okay. First diagnosis here…you’re not asking ‘how do I get her,’ you’re asking ‘how do I not hurt her.’ That’s a good sign, right?”
“I’m asking both,” I admit. “But yeah.”
“Second diagnosis,” he says, holding up two fingers. “What are you drawn to? Her, or the role you get to play around her?”
I wince. “That’s rude,” then I give him an annoyed look. “I’m the Psych major here…why are you therapisting me? I mean…I need you to, but like, what’s going on here?” I let out a small laugh.
He shrugs with a smile on his face. “Learned from the best, I guess.”
I let out a slow breath. “This doesn’t feel like a rescue,” I say.
“It’s not…me trying to be her sponsor or savior.
It just—” I search for it. “Feels right. When I’m around her, everything in me gets quieter.
And I like who I am when I’m talking to her.
I don’t need her to need me. I just…want to be near her.
To know her. And I don’t think there’s anything she could tell me that would make me bolt. ”
Erik’s face softens. “Okay. That sounds less like trauma cosplay and more like a crush.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t call it that.”
“I will absolutely call it that,” he says. “Now ethics.”
“I know,” I groan. “I know.”
“Here’s the layup,” he says, counting on his fingers.
“One, you’re out of her facilitation circle, that’s good.
Two, she’s early in recovery. New relationships can be hard to navigate, and early recovery is a whole mess of emotions in itself.
Three, the power dynamics don’t just disappear because your title changes.
You still have a ‘helper’ aura on campus.
Four, you have your own grief stuff that gets loud around her story.
Not really a deal-breaker, just all things to be aware of. ”
I nod. “So the answer is don’t.”
“The answer is don’t rush,” he says. “And maybe bring your supervisor into your head about it. Bring Ms. Ricks into your head about it. Bring your therapist into your head about it.”
I laugh. “My therapist is going to love this. ‘So, I maybe like someone I’ve met in a lot of messy ways’…”
“She’ll ask what you want,” Erik says. “So I’ll ask it first. What do you want? Not what should you want. What do you want?”
I look down at the ground. “I wanna tell her I’m switching groups so she doesn’t think I ghosted the group she was in.
I wanna keep being around her in ways that are safe for both of us.
I wanna ask her to get coffee sometime in the middle of the day in a public place.
No agenda. No trauma swapping. I wanna see if it still feels…
like it feels when we accidentally end up walking in the same direction, or when we fall into easy conversation in class, or when I feel like I see her in new, deeper, raw ways every time she opens up more. ”
Erik grins.
“I wanna be allowed to like her,” I say. “And if she says no, I wanna be okay with that. I don’t wanna make the ‘no’ into a mark on my worth or treat her differently.”
“Okay,” he says, still assessing me. “I think that sounds possible, right?”
I lean back and stare at the ceiling. “There’s also a part of me that’s…scared we’d be bad for each other,” I say finally. “Like two people with matchbooks and no water to put out an accidental fire.”
“Or,” he says, gentle now, “two people who have both learned where the fire is sitting and are self-aware of that. It’s not about not having fire around.
It’s about what you do with it. Are you both doing your work?
Are you both willing to put the brakes on if one of you hits something you’re not ready for?
You don’t get burned if you’re just watching the fire from a distance, if you don’t forget it’s there, and accidentally fall into it.
It can be there and keep you warm without one of you pushing the other into it. ”
“That’s a little violent of a metaphor,” I tell him, smirking.
He shrugs. “Working off the dome here.”
I forget to speak for a second, thinking about all of it, what I want, if she could want the same thing, if I could be what she needs, or if I’d just be exactly what she doesn’t need.
I guess all I can do is shoot the ball and let it land in her court.
See if she even wants to play the game with me.