Chapter 34 #2
‘How very rewarding for you,’ she muttered, feeling slightly irritated that he obviously still saw her as a client, and was oblivious to her as a woman.
He laughed. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘I’ve lost masses of weight,’ she pointed out, deciding to give him a helping hand on the old perception front.
‘I’d noticed,’ he said equably, and SJ found herself wondering when exactly he’d noticed.
She’d never once caught him looking at any part of her except her face, which was exasperating because she spent a lot of time on her appearance when she came to see him – as she did when she went to meetings.
It was something she’d noticed the other women did too. There were some beautiful girls in AA.
She’d suspected she might see Kit differently without the aid of alcohol-tinted glasses.
She’d also thought that splitting up with Tom might be sad enough to bring her back to reality where men were concerned, but if anything she liked Kit more than she had before.
It still touched her that he’d come to visit her in hospital, but it went deeper than that.
She liked the warmth in his eyes and the tiny lines around them that crinkled up when he smiled.
She liked the way his short brown hair spiked now he’d had it cut.
She wondered if he used gel or if it was natural.
She liked his hands, with their strong stubby fingers and short nails – she’d spent many a night in bed at Dorothy’s imagining what it would be like to feel his hands moving over her skin.
Now and then she’d allowed herself a brief fantasy about what it would be like to kiss him.
‘SJ…’ His voice broke into her thoughts and she jumped guiltily. ‘Talk to me – tell me what you’re thinking?’
No way was she telling him that. If she confessed to one tenth of what was in her head, he’d suggest she see another counsellor – and then she’d never set eyes on him again. And he was the only bright spot in these days of abstinence.
‘Why?’ she asked, playing for time as she tried to conjure up a suitable answer – one that wouldn’t have him marching her out of the door.
‘Because that’s what we’re here for – and because – well – you looked happy for a moment there – so it’s not all bad, is it?’
His voice was unusually hesitant. He never sounded hesitant.
Maybe he felt the same. After all, it happened, didn’t it?
Counsellors fell in love with their clients all the time – well, they did in dramas.
There’d been a plotline about it once on Sex and the City.
She couldn’t remember the outcome – bugger, she wished she’d paid more attention.
SJ smiled. For a brief moment she visualised herself telling him he was the reason she was happy.
That actually she was in love with him – well, a little bit in lust with him at the very least. But she knew if she told him that she wouldn’t be able to retract the words.
He’d be morally obliged to insist she didn’t see him again.
And she couldn’t bear not to see him again.
Life would be a great deal emptier without him in it.
No, it was far better to keep everything on a nice safe fantasy level.
‘How’s it going with Tom?’ he asked. Maybe he had picked up on her thoughts, after all.
‘I don’t think there’s going to be any happy reconciliation. Tom’s not in a hurry to divorce me, but he doesn’t want me to move back in either. And I really don’t blame him.’
‘But you haven’t been tempted to drink on that?’
‘I get tempted occasionally, but I’m not going to do it. I only have to remember what happened last time.’
He raised his eyebrows, and she said quietly, ‘When Dad gave me that first glass of gin and tonic at the party – complete with ice and a slice – I had no idea what it would lead to…’
‘Congratulations,’ Kit interrupted, and she looked at him in surprise.
‘What?’
‘You got the right drink,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’s the first drink that does the damage. It takes ages for most alcoholics to get their head around that. They think it’s the fourth or the fifth – or the final bottle they can’t even remember guzzling.’
She blushed. ‘Yeah, thanks very much for reminding me of that!’
‘You’re welcome,’ he said, unrepentant. ‘You’ve got a very good sponsor too, haven’t you?’
‘Dorothy’s amazing. I don’t think I could have done it without her.
And I’ve made a few friends at meetings.
’ That had surprised her. How normal people were – and yet also how diverse.
She’d met nurses, teachers, waitresses and CEOs; not a tramp on a park bench in sight.
The only thing they all had in common was they couldn’t drink like other people. They couldn’t stop at one.
‘So you’ve got plenty of support then?’ Kit said. ‘Plenty of people around you who’ll help you stay sober?’
Suddenly realising what he was getting at, SJ nodded. ‘I should stop coming here, shouldn’t I? Free up the appointment for someone who needs it more than me?’
‘I’ve told you before – you can come as long as you need.’ Kit’s face was serious.
‘But it’s true, isn’t it? I can’t keep coming forever. I have to stand on my own two feet sooner or later.’
The thought of not seeing him any more left her feeling impossibly bleak. Ironically it was this that decided her.
Deep down, she knew she only kept coming because she was a little bit in love with him. And while the old SJ would have found this a perfectly good reason to continue, the new, more mature, SJ knew it wasn’t.
When they stood up at the end of the session, she looked at Kit and said softly, ‘Don’t book me in next week. I think I can probably cope from now on.’
‘Are you sure?’ He stood a few feet away from her, his dark eyes solemn.
The prospect of never seeing him again filled her with grief. A massive ache had started in her heart and was rising up into her throat. She couldn’t swallow.
Clinging to her self-control, she forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘I can phone if I change my mind, can’t I?’
‘Of course you can. We’ll still be here.’
She had to get out before she lost it completely. The ache was increasing. In a minute it would spill over and she would cry. And that would be crazy – she should be thrilled she no longer needed to come to an addiction counsellor, not devastated.
‘Stay safe, SJ,’ Kit said softly, and she nodded again. Bloody emotions – they’d been far easier to deal with when she’d been able to bury them. There was so much she wanted to say, but she knew she would never get the words out.
In the end, all she could manage was a mumbled, ‘Thanks,’ before she fled. But when she was outside once more on the familiar street, it struck her that Kit didn’t need her to go into long thank you speeches anyway. He probably knew exactly how she felt. He always had.