Chapter 23
On Friday morning, Ian found himself hard-pressed to say anything to his therapist. Janet’s pleasant expression wore thin on the edges as he stalled. “Is this the use you want to be making of your time with me?” she asked him after a particularly long silence.
Ian slumped. “Not really.”
“Is there something you don’t want to talk about?”
“Yes,” he muttered, crossing his arms on his chest.
“I’m not going to make you talk about it, but we might want to talk about something.” Her knuckles were going white where she clasped her hands in her lap.
That was satisfying. He smirked, just the corners of his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about anything.”
“That’s your choice, Ian.”
“I saw that guy again.”
Janet raised an interested eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I told him I just wanted sex.”
“Ah.”
“What does that mean?” Ian snapped.
“It means, ‘I see.’” He studied her suspiciously. Was she biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling? He wouldn’t put it above her. “I’m not judging you.”
Strangely, he believed her. His shoulders relaxed. “I’m not supposed to do that anymore,” he said. “Just hook up with guys.”
Janet looked completely serious for once. “You said you didn’t want to anymore, yes. Is this helping you to develop a personal connection to someone?”
“No.” Damn, he sounded like a sulky teenager.
“Have you thought about giving up on this man and looking—”
“I want him,” Ian interrupted. Hell. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair.
“Okay . . . I got in the car with my buddy from college, Tierney. He’s got this fucking car, you know what I mean?
” How could she possibly know what he meant?
“It’s all about him being a chick magnet.
He’s fostering the image of himself as a player. ”
“And he’s not?” Janet asked. She would let him go on in this nonsensical direction only so long, he knew from experience.
Ian opened his eyes. “I don’t know if he is anymore. He used to be, you know? It’s why we were friends in the first place, because I was just like him. But I had something to prove.” He lifted his head slightly, to see if she got it.
“You wanted to prove you weren’t gay?”
Ian didn’t know if that was all there had been to it, but for now he shrugged. “I guess. So, I was watching Tierney pull this shit on Sunday, looking like a fucking idiot. He just looked old, you know?”
Janet opened her mouth, then paused. “No, I don’t know what you mean.”
Ian sat up and planted his elbows on his knees. “He looked like a lonely, thirty-something jackass trying to prove he’s still young and hot and all he needs out of life is sex.”
Janet nodded, although Ian had no clue if she got what he said.
He didn’t get it. “I used to be that guy, and I’m looking at him and wondering if I’m still that guy.
I mean, what the fuck do I know about personal relationships?
My mom died when I was barely a teenager, and after that, my dad was a neglectful asshole, and I’ve just told the guy I was supposed to be connecting with that all I want is more sex. ”
“Is that really all you want?”
“No!” Ian shot out of his chair and turned to the window. “But I don’t know if I know how to do anything else.” Shit, he’d said that out loud. He could feel the blood drain from his head.
Janet was silent until he got his breathing under control and turned to her, barely able to meet her eyes.
“Ian, what you were before doesn’t have to define what you are now, or what you will be in the future.”
He fisted one hand on his hip. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Janet watched him calmly. “It means you aren’t that guy now, but you have to continue to choose not to be him again.”
Ian dropped back into his chair and sighed. “Hell,” he muttered.
“That’ll be one hundred fifty dollars, please.”
“Ha. Ha.” But then he ruined his mad-on by laughing.