Chapter Twenty-One
Mia
“Oh my God,” I squeal. “I haven’t spoken to you in weeks, how the hell are you?”
Lana’s face fills my screen, and even though her face keeps freezing, it’s the happiest I’ve felt in the last few days.
“Hey, girl. I’m good, I’m good. How’s things at home?” She smiles, but it’s a little flat, her pink hair dull and growing out.
“Umm, yeah, okay here. I miss you. My Saturday coffees aren’t the same without you. I’ve resorted to eating twice as many pastries as normal.”
“A sensible coping mechanism.”
“It could be drugs.”
“You’re right. Or an expensive book-buying habit.”
We laugh, given that Lana loves reading and even though she uses her e-reader, she ends up buying the physical copy most of the time for her bookshelf. It’s a reward for finishing a book. Utterly unmanageable, but as previously noted, it could be drugs.
We both sigh audibly, our faces dropping before realizing the other had done the exact same thing. Giggling, we both yell at the same time.
“YOU FIRST!”
“You’re the one that’s away, you should go first. I can assure you it’s way more interesting than what’s going on here,” I lie, knowing that Lana will flip out when I tell her about me and Alfie after I’ve had a crush on him for three years.
“I won’t lie to you, Mia. It’s much harder than I had anticipated.
There’s been a lasting impact of Hurricane Maria in 2017.
Despite it being years later, the death toll was just so high, not everyone was accounted for.
And then COVID happened. The country just didn’t have enough time to recover.
The mental toll has been perpetuated by the physical toll.
On top of that, you have your run-of-the-mill problems and traumas that everyone endures.
It’s been a steep learning curve and a total eye-opener, but truthfully—” She pauses for a moment, lowering her voice.
“I don’t think this is what I’m able to do long term. ”
She bites her lip, looking away from the camera, her head dipping low. She’s always wanted to be a save-the-world kind of therapist, so I’m surprised but try to mask it so she doesn’t think I’m judging her.
“That’s fine, Lana. You’re allowed to change your mind about what you want to do in life.”
“I know, I just…my dad got me an interview, but it’s doing something I never thought I’d do.”
“Okay…you’re making it sound a little scary. What is it?”
“I never told you this because people get a little weird about it. But he’s the team doctor for the Seattle Grizzlies.”
“The ice hockey team that Alfie’s brother, Teddy, plays on?” I ask dumbly. How the hell did I not know that her dad is the team doctor for the Grizzlies? He would know Alfie’s brother well, and he may have even met Alfie a few times.
“The very one,” she murmurs like it’s not something she’s overly excited to share.
“Okay, but you’re not a doctor-doctor. You’re a psychologist.”
“He wants me to be the team psychologist.”
“Do they even have one of those?”
“Yeah, it’s a big thing now to improve cohesiveness in the team collectively and then also working with individuals.
People don’t realize how much mental stamina goes into sports until they’re playing at such a high level.
But these guys—they’re just guys. Goofballs with the added damage that they’ve been told they’re shit-hot their whole lives because they’re good at sports.
My job would be to work with them on their individual issues once a week and do some team bonding exercises, or pair work for those that work closely together. ”
I grin. “Lana, that sounds amazing. Are you going to go for it?”
She breathes out a puff of relief. “Yeah, I mean, I actually kind of want to. It’s not changing the world or anything, but I’ll get to spend more time with my dad and make a difference to the team.”
“It makes sense given you’re such a big hockey fan.”
“Yeah, kind of. You know I love it when they get in fights.”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, I could see you being a little prone to violence. You did date that British guy that played rugby.”
“Oh yeah, he was hot, man, the thighs on that guy.” She smiles wistfully.
“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants. I can’t wait to see you when you get back. At least this means you’ll be staying in the city for the foreseeable future.”
“If I get the job, yeah. But promise me that you’re only looking for a job in Seattle?”
“I promise.” And I mean it. Lana is my oldest friend here.
We were both psych majors in our undergraduate degrees, and we both knew we wanted to become psychologists one day.
Pairing up with someone who can hold you accountable and understands the work you’re doing was a game changer for me.
When one of us struggled, the other supported.
When we weren’t understanding something, the other would explain.
We’re a little yin and yang that way. Perfectly gelled together, we’d be the ultimate therapist.
But it’s been nice; our career aspirations have been very different.
I’ve always wanted to support people in their day-to-day lives, improving things for those who have experienced trauma and hardship.
Not necessarily those headline-grabbing experiences, but helping someone build a better life like Alfie does.
That would fill me with a sense of job satisfaction no other profession could give me.
Lana has always chased the experience. She wants to see and do everything possible in this life.
Hence volunteering in Puerto Rico and taking on assignments that are going to push her far past her comfort zone.
I’ve always thought that one day it would catch up with her.
The constant push to help the most downtrodden, the people that have experienced the worst that life can throw at you.
They need help, of course. But it almost felt like Lana needed to experience the worst so she could make up for her privileged life.
I had no doubt that growing up the way she did contrasted massively with her family in Mexico.
She lived in the suburbs; her dad is a doctor who I’ve now discovered works for the Grizzlies.
He’d be on a lot of money. I know they had staff when she was growing up—cleaners and nannies.
Maybe she was trying to make up for the fact that she hadn’t experienced any real trauma. Not since I’ve known her, at least.
“Okay, girl. Time to spill the tea, please.”
I take a deep breath. “I slept with Alfie.”
“I fucking knew it!” she screams before turning away from the screen. “Ay, perdona senora, discúlpeme.” She pulls an awkward face and begins to whisper.
“Tell me everything immediately.”
So I did. I explained the chemistry between us, the fake dating, Dinner Club, everything. I even told her about Alfie going down on me in the backroom of a bar in Texas. To say she was squealing like a pig in shit hearing that would be an understatement.
“Okay, so he banged your brains out, what’s the problem? Does he have a tiny dick? Does he whinny when he comes? Ooh, ooh, does he call you Mommy?” She cackles.
“No, he does not call me Mommy, Christ, Lana. And he doesn’t fucking whinny; he’s not a horse.”
“Okay, so it’s his dick then.”
“No, his dick is…sizeable.”
“What are we talking here?”
“Lana, I’m not going to tell you the size of his appendage.”
She laughs, her head throwing back, and I screenshot when it freezes, sending her the image in revenge. “The fact that you said appendage just means the guy is packing. Don’t worry, I can picture it.”
“Please don’t picture it.”
“He’s swinging it round like a baseball bat stepping up to the plate.”
“Please stop.” I grin.
“Okay, so what’s the real problem?”
“He’s my boss, Lana. I’ve been in this situation before, and I’m nervous to lean into it. He works in the industry I’m trying to get a job in. He has sway, influence. It’s a lot of trust to put in someone. If we keep it to a one-night thing, then maybe this won’t massively backfire on me.”
She nods, her voice softening as she hums an acknowledgement.
“You’re totally valid for having those concerns.
What happened with Mr. Dick Cheese in your hometown was awful.
I can’t even imagine the trust issues you must have because of it.
But the truth is, Alfie is what, six years older than you?
That’s not that much. Also, you’re a grown adult now.
You’re not a gullible kid that doesn’t know better.
Alfie has never given you a reason not to trust him, right? ”
I think back to anything where I thought Alfie’s behavior concerned me.
Even when we were not in a good place, it wasn’t controlling; he was just an idiot.
And even him following patients around seems to stem from some feeling of responsibility over them.
He worries about people he cares about. He worries about me.
My chest dips like I’ve just missed the last step on the stairs.
I’ve made a serious error in judgment here.
I thought with all the therapy I’d had that I’d moved on from what Carter did.
But in reality, he’s still controlling me after all this time.
I need to find Alfie and talk to him. I need to tell him how I really feel.
Alfie
After Mia left for her Wednesday afternoon classes, I kicked myself for not confirming our usual dinner plans.
I’ve been trying to give her space since our conversation on Sunday, but I’m finding it nearly impossible to stay away from her.
I’d fought these feelings for so long, closing myself off to the idea of a relationship just as my father told me to do after my patient hurt themselves.
But now it’s like eight years of pent-up emotion is spilling to the surface.