Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
“Nope,” Seth says after I show him the profile of another therapist. We’re nearing the end of my list, and the fact that not one of the people on it has given him the “I know about monsters” vibe is starting to make me sweat.
There’s got to be someone on the list of therapists who were vocally against recovered memory therapy who knows… right?
I groan, pulling up another, which he also rejects. “What do we do if there isn’t anyone?”
He squeezes my foot from the other end of the couch.
After we decorated the tree last night, he insisted on sleeping out here, saying I needed my rest. Maybe the lack of cuddles is contributing to my annoyance.
I’ve been cuddle deprived and touch starved for years, and whatever misguided attempt he’s making at being a gentleman is riling me right the fuck up.
“If none of them have, we’ll just widen the net. You said this sort of therapy has been out of use for a while, so maybe people don’t even feel the need to speak about it. We can make sure it’s the first thing you ask when you reach out.”
“True,” I grumble, pursing my lips. I click the link for the next one and wait for it to load. Amanda Smith, a brunette with kind eyes, smiles blithely back at me. She lists Clinical Trauma as a specialty, and she did her thesis on the harmful effects of RMT.
Before I even flip the phone, Seth cocks his head and scoots closer. He looks over my shoulder and nods. “Her.”
“You think?” It would be really lucky, maybe even too lucky, to be honest.
“Nope, I know. I was starting to worry it wouldn’t work, but I got a feeling a few seconds ago. She knows.”
Hope bubbles inside of me, and I lean over and kiss Seth’s cheek. “Okay.”
Heart racing, I nod my head and take a deep breath. I feel like I am about to vomit, and my finger shakes as I click the “contact me” button and type out a short message. “Now… I guess we wait.”
“I’m proud of you,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
“You know what? I am too.” A part of me is still rebelling at the idea, but I’m also so, so tired of letting this rule my life.
A notification from Fae pops up at the top of my screen.
F: It’s done. Please tell me I am a champion.
I click it and type back.
A: The championest! First place, queen of authors and subduer of unruly manuscripts!
F: Just in time, too.
F: I deserve a treat, tbh.
A: 1000%
F: Movie night?
I look up to check in with Seth about if we had plans, and see he’s moved back to his side of the couch, a small smile on his face.
“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling embarrassed. I smooth my hair, because maybe he mussed it when he kissed me, and now he’s chuckling because I look ridiculous.
“I never got to see this side of you before. I like it. You’re a good friend.”
It’s such a simple compliment, a heartfelt observation, but it hits me square in the chest. Because while I try to be a good friend, I want to be a good friend, I don’t know that it’s true. It could be, though.
“She wants to have a movie night to celebrate being done with her manuscript… I think she’s who I want to tell. What do you think?”
“If she’s who you choose, then I support you. Does this mean I’m invited to movie night?”
Henry clambers up onto the couch, squishing his massive form between us. I guess he wants an invite as well.
“You know, seeing you might help her not think I’m lying… so if you want to come, I’d love that.”
A: Absolutely. Plus, I have someone I want you to meet.
F: Okay, I’m intrigued…
Afew hours later, I’ve connected my iPad to my TV and set it so Fae can see us on the couch.
Seth and I decided that it’s probably best if he starts the call off-screen, so he’s sitting off to the side in the chair with Henry curled up on his lap, like the two of them aren’t entirely too big for it.
Poor Seth is having to wrap his arms around my massive dog to keep him on his lap, but he seems happy as he gives me a thumbs up.
I start the call, my forehead damp with sweat as I wait for Fae to answer. She’s still walking through her house when she answers.
“Just got the munchkins to sleep, it’s celebration time!” she says, nodding her head like there’s a really good beat on.
“Heck yeah!” I say, hoping she doesn’t hear how my voice wavers.
“Okay, bitch, fess up. Who am I meeting? Did you get another dog? Was it some hot guy decorating your house?”
I can’t contain the belly laugh that bursts out of me. “Actually, you’re sort of right… my secret Santa was a hot guy. And he helped me with the whole Tom situation.”
Fae squeals so loud the mic cuts out. “That’s awesome! Tell me everything! Did he punch Tom? Do we like him?”
“Yeah,” I say, pointedly avoiding looking at Seth. “We like him… and he did punch Tom.”
“My MAN!” She fist pumps the air and flops down onto her own couch, picking up a glass of red wine. “So, where is he?”
“He’s here…” I’ve got serious butterflies in my stomach now, because telling Fae about Seth feels monumental. “But there are a few things I need you to know about him.”
“Okay… color me intrigued.”
I shake my head and look at the ceiling. I’ve had hours to rehearse how to say this, but everything I planned has flown the coop in the face of pressure.
“He’s… uh… Fae, monsters are real.”
“Huh?” She squints and tilts her head.
Seth nods at me, motioning for me to keep going.
“So… this is going to sound crazy, but monsters are real, and I’ve met my dream monster. Not like, as in my perfect man—well okay, that too but—like literally the monster who was in charge of my dreams.”
Fae blinks at me, checks the level of her wine, and purses her lips. “Come again?”
“Monsters are real… and one is sitting in my living room… right now.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Prove it.”
Instead of pushing Henry off his lap, Seth tightens his arms more securely, standing up and walking over with him.
He settles down next to me, spreading Henry across both our laps.
Watching Fae’s face is hilarious. At first, when it’s just his legs on screen, her eyes stay squinted.
When he sits though, they widen, and her mouth drops open.
“And… you’re for real. He’s not some like, AI V-Tuber thing on the call?”
“Nope, I’m real.” Seth says, picking up one of Henry’s paws and waving to the camera.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Fae goes through some serious emotions in a few short seconds. Shaking her head and blinking, mouthing, “no way,” and cocking her head like the “well, maybe” girl.
“So yeah…” I say when she’s seemed to settle a bit. “He was decorating my house because I kept having nightmares, and he remembered Christmas was my favorite holiday.”
“Oh my god, that’s precious!” she says, though it’s obvious she is still not 100% with us yet. “I—I have a million questions.”
“I’ll bet,” Seth says. “But first, hi! I’m Seth… Ada’s boyfriend.”
Aweek passes, and Seth is still sleeping on the couch.
I think he’s trying to drive me insane. Fae has texted every twenty minutes with another question.
She’s honestly got so many more than I have; she’s curious that way.
But, I’m grateful, because I’ve been able to learn so much more about Seth’s world and his life from them.
Apparently, in the dream realm, there are lots of different sorts of dream monsters, but he’s the most “basic” kind.
Over time, it’s common for them to specialize in something, like his friend Rhys, who is now essentially a cupid, and his friend Gloria, who specializes in bringing luck.
Sometimes Seth is vague, but I get the feeling that it’s because things just work differently there, and he’s not always sure of the whys or hows of things.
We’ve settled into a rhythm. He seems to really enjoy cooking, and he’s started doodling on random sheets of paper. He’s really creative, and quite naturally talented with a pencil. While I work, he tries out recipes, draws, or surfs the internet to learn more about the human world.
I’ve met with Amanda twice now, she squeezed me in since things were sort of emergent.
I’m still nervous, but our first appointments went really well.
She didn’t bat an eye when Seth came on screen, just said, “Ah, I see, good to know.” She winked, then told him that therapy was private and kicked him out of my bedroom.
We haven’t done much yet, we’re still getting a baseline, but it feels like maybe… it might work.
Stretching, I shut my laptop with a resounding click, disconnecting from work for the day. It is Christmas Eve, after all. All of my clients are squared away, my presents are all wrapped, the tree is decorated, and the fire is crackling away.
As if he was summoned by the sound, Seth rounds the corner from the kitchen, holding a plate in each hand.
The smell has been driving me crazy for hours, but he wouldn’t tell me what he was making.
Now, I squeal as he sets it on the table, because he’s made homemade Chinese food… or at least Americanized Chinese food.
“Seth, that looks amazing!”
“I read that sometimes Jewish people get Chinese on Christmas, because neither community celebrates. Obviously we’re celebrating, but it made me wonder what Chinese tasted like.
” He sits down, his sweater stretched tight across his chest. We found a size that fits him, but just barely, though I’m not sad about how closely it hugs and highlights his form.
I squirm in my chair, because this protracted war he’s waging on my pussy has got to stop. Soon, I’ll be a puddle of need on the floor.
No. This man is mine tonight if I have anything to say about it.
Over his tasty dinner, he tells me about all the interesting things he learned that day. I love hearing where his research took him, because his brain follows paths so differently from mine.
“So, I figured you might have heard of that band.”
“I might have, yeah…” I hide my blush in my glass of water.