38. This is hard
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
this is hard
AIDEN
It’s nicer than I expected. I assumed it’d be all white and minimalistic. It’s more like a regular office, but bigger. More books. All browns and blues.
I’m in a chair across from the therapist I booked in the second I woke up this morning. But now I regret it. He’s staring at me, his notebook on his knee. Scratching his thick, brown beard with the back of his pen. I wait for him to start because I’m lost in my messy mind.
“You wrote in your booking note that you struggle to talk about things that are painful and that you don’t want to be like your dad.”
“Yes, although I’m not sure, now that I’m here. I can’t…” I wave a hand, fighting the swirling discomfort in my gut at the idea of Dr Carter digging through my worries, “…think of what to say.”
“Why did you book the session? What prompted this?”
“I fucked up with my girlfriend. And now I’m not sure she wants to be my girlfriend.”
I clear my throat and shift in my seat, moving my ankle to rest on my opposite knee.
“What makes you sure you messed it up?”
“She left, crying, that’s one thing. I… Uh… I disappointed her, I guess, and then I told her to calm down and not make a big deal of it, and it’s something that triggers her. I behaved like her ex.”
“What was happening for you in that moment?”
I think back on last night and it gives me heartburn to relive it.
My fears when faced with the prospect of being Linnea’s forever, the way I froze like a fucking coward when Linnea asked me about it.
I didn’t say any of the things I should have.
That I could never imagine being with anyone else.
She’s the only person I want. She’s my home.
I give the therapist a short version. Sex club, didn’t resign, Linnea was upset, didn’t share my thoughts, and fucked up instead.
“When you went to resign, what went through your mind as you made the decision?”
“The manager asked me whether I was Linnea’s forever, and I panicked. It’s a long story about my dad. We’ll probably need more than an hour for that.”
Dr Carter nods, considering me from under his bushy eyebrows.
“Well, uh,” I continue, “I’ve never talked about it with anyone. When I look at it more closely, it makes my heart race and I struggle to breathe.”
I drop my foot back onto the floor.
“Can you tell me more about this club? What was your favourite thing about it?”
I raise an eyebrow at him, he doesn’t want to ask about my dad?
“The no-strings sex, of course,” I say. “The privacy.”
“Why do you feel you need a club for that?”
“I told you, I didn’t want to just have sex with people and end up hurting them. And I like to have sex.”
“Why?”
A laugh escapes me, but the therapist inclines his head, urging me to answer.
“It’s good?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
“More than a physically?”
“Uh, hmm.” I put my ankle back across the other knee and adjust the edge of my sock. “I suppose. It’s like a quiet time but without leaving space for anything else. It’s all-consuming.”
“Quiet time from what?”
There’s a crumb on his trousers that’s bothering me.
I focus on it, willing it to disappear, trying to let the crumb be louder than the thoughts that flood me at his question.
Sex is the opposite of my shitty office space.
The office is silent in a loud kind of way, giving my mind too much space to frolic.
Work and sex let my brain be quiet from that noise.
Quiet from … the memories of Dad. Of him laughing.
Of him dying.
Lying there in his hospital bed.
Quiet from the idea that I didn’t know him fully. That I can never be sure if he was just acting with me and Mum or if he loved us as much as I believed him to. I’ll never have the assurance that he was as happy being my dad as he said.
“Bad memories. Good memories that wreck me.”
“Pain.”
I look up, right into his grey eyes.
“And the club allows you to redirect from that?” Dr Carter continues. “To put the painful memories somewhere.”
I trace a thumb over my lower lip, letting my vision blur.
“That makes sense.”
Dr Carter nods. “It might have been a subconscious reaction, adding to your panic. We can explore this further. But tell me more about what it is about your dad that makes you doubt you’re Linnea’s ‘forever’, as you called it.”
I sigh. “That’s a fucking long conversation, Dr Carter.”
He knits his thick brow at me. “Okay. We can come back to it. We’ll need to talk about your past so you can learn to understand yourself better. That’s how you’ll be able to put some things behind you and look to the future.”
“Okay.”
“Let’s first address what you wrote in your booking note, then.”
“Yes. What can I do to get better at talking? I know I do this thing.”
“Tell me more about that.”
I shrug.
“I guess I get the urge to move on to something else?”
He nods.
“And Linnea, she… She struggles to push, because her ex was an arse who made her feel shit about herself.”
I grit my teeth.
“Like I did yesterday,” I add.
“That’s not what you wanted to do.”
“Of course not.”
There’s a scratch on my leather watch strap. I need to get that fixed.
“What are you thinking right now?”
I tell him and show him the watch strap.
“Hmm, I see,” he says.
This conversation reminds me of what Linnea said when we walked through the park.
“Linnea said I deflect. She asked me a question and I started talking about pelicans.”
“That’s something we can work on. You can learn to notice your own patterns.”
“It sounds hard.”
“You want to fix your relationship, and you say you struggle to communicate when it turns uncomfortable, and you seek an outlet to silence painful thoughts. I commend you for being here in the first place.”
“Thank you?”
“You should thank yourself.”
“And my friend who put this into my head last night.”
“You’re the one who booked in the appointment and walked through that door.”
“Look, my mum’s getting married this weekend, and Linnea might be there. What do I do before then? I won’t have time to come back here before.”
“Addressing a potentially lifelong pattern isn’t an overnight change. But my approach is practical. We’ll talk some more today, and I’ll give you homework.”
“Homework.”
“Yes. I want you to take note of when something makes you uncomfortable. When you get the urge to joke or turn it around on something else, stop and reflect on it. Try to say the thing that is hard to say. Or just tell them you’re struggling to find your words.
You can say, ‘This is hard’, and that could be enough.
Especially if you’re talking to someone you love. They’ll understand.”
“Right. Okay.”
“And we need to talk more about the thoughts you want to silence. The feelings about your father. You can learn to sit with pain rather than push it down or redirect. It’ll help you heal. This is a process, Aiden. How does that sound to you?”
“Torturous.”
He just stares at me. Tough crowd.
“It sounds good, Dr Carter,” I add. “Thank you.”
Sitting in my office for the second time in a few days, I stare at the ugly couch. Somehow this is where I ended up after my therapy appointment. Perhaps I’m subconsciously punishing myself.
I send Linnea a text and scroll up through the last couple of days.
I miss you
Please talk to me
I want you. Only you. Forever.
Hey, me again. Saw a therapist today. I want to learn to talk about stuff. Not to deflect when things are hard. I want to tell you about my dad and why I freaked out. I hope you’ll give me another chance, Linnea. I can’t imagine life without you.
I stare at my screen when my phone buzzes.
I couldn’t either, until last night. Now all I imagine is a life I already lived and I struggle to see past it.
“FUCK!” I slam my phone down on the desk. I have some work to do.