Who said we’re hanging out?
Cooper
Pretty sure you did.
Must’ve been a different Sutton.
Cooper
Interesting…there’s only one in my life.
I’ll be outside the building.
This is the second time in the past two hours that I’ve lifted my head and found Dr. Manning smiling at me.
“Someone special?” she asks teasingly.
I swallow. Yeah, someone.
“Just a friend.”
“Same friend as the one in this?” She spins my laptop around, tapping the corner of the screen. “This is…wonderful, Sutton. Some of your best work. You speak through experience and compassion. There’s a sincerity that I haven’t seen in this line of work in years. If you read between the lines”—a knowing look pulls on her face—“you can see how much you care for your patient.”
“I’m not supposed to care about him.” It comes out of me with a bite. Defensive as if she can see through the weakening walls I erected as a fortress when it comes to Cooper.
“Is that so?” she challenges.
“Unbiased. I should be unbiased and neutral as a psychologist.”
“Why?” Why? That’s not the response I expected.
“I-I-I.” I lick my lips, a dryness coating my throat. I don’t know if we are talking about school and my future career anymore. “I can’t…I can’t care for him.”
“Caring is at the core of who we are. Caring is different from being unbiased. We work on being non-judgmental and strive for objectivity, but that doesn’t mean we can’t care. Is wanting the best for someone not caring about them?”
“I guess.”
“Do you think having compassion for the athletes you’ll work with is a weakness?”
“No.” It comes out as a whisper.
She asks me several more questions. Each one expanding the guardrails I’ve put up. Not around what I’m doing, but who I’m doing this with.
“Mr. Carmichael is lucky to have you on his team,” she says. “I’m excited to see how this wraps up.”
After we talk through the second half of my case study, I exit her office. Tense. Excited. Relieved. Confused—contradicting emotions mix inside of me.
Spring air rushes my exposed skin when I push open the door. My chin tips up and warm rays of sun heat my cheeks. I close my eyes and take a languid inhale, relishing in my favorite time of year.
I open my eyes, and Cooper is standing there. Plastic cups in each hand.
“Hi, Dave.”
I exhale all of the feelings worming their way through me. Exhale the nerves and hurt I’ve held on to.
“Hi, Carmichael.”
“Ooooh. She’s last naming me.” He smiles, and it’s like an eraser. Erasing the years I’ve kept him at arm’s length. Erasing the animosity.
