"First of all, Brian, it's excellent that you considered the safety of not only yourself but your sexual partners. Secondly, establishing boundaries and outlining what you're both seekingto achieve in your arrangement is commendable and removes any miscommunication and pain from either party."
I gave a snort of disbelief at her words. "Commendable? I fucking betrayed my wife knowingly and willingly multiple times. I felt like shit afterward, yet I still continued."
Dr. Grant barely blinked an eye at my flare of anger. She was clearly used to passionate outbursts.
She tilted her head at me. "We'll get back to that, but first, I need to establish a few things. When things ended between yourself and your partner, did you already have a new one lined up?"
"No!" I exclaimed, shaking my head vehemently, mortified that she would think my behavior was premeditated. "No. It wasn't my plan to just jump from one bed to another."
Her pen tapped again in a slow pattern. "How long did time lapse between bed partners?"
I stared up at the ceiling, unsure why all this was important. "I dunno, maybe a month or two."
When the still quiet of my house started to shout loudly at me. When the loneliness of stewing in broken memories began to seep in before I couldn't take the itch anymore.
"Saying it out loud, recounting my actions...it all sounds so fucking terrible." I didn't blame Sarah for scolding me.
"Why do you say that, Brian?"
I leaned my head back on the couch, lacing my fingers together in my lap. A sheen filled my eyes, and I blinked the dampness away.
"I adored Hannah. Even before she and I got together, I never took multiple partners to bed like this. Yeah, every now and then, I'd have a one-night stand as a horny college kid, but I'd never just...run through women." I shook my head. "Fuck. Sar was right to go off at me."
I heard Dr. Grant's pad hit the circular table between us, and her chair creaked with her movements. "Brian, what Sarah said to you was not acceptable. Yes, she is entitled to feel a certain way, and she is free to communicate how she feels with you, but that does not mean that it's right or that you should feel any shame."
I slowly brought my head up at her words.
Her face was earnest as she implored me to listen. "Your personal and sexual relationships are nobody's business. You and only you get to decide how you conduct your sex life. Your desires are not wrong as long as it is safe, consensual, and no one is hurt. And from what you've told me, you've ticked all those boxes."
"But my actionsdidhurt people." I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my thighs. "They hurt Hannah's sister, and I'm pretty sure my relationship with Diane is gone to shit." Her look of disappointment was branded on my mind.
"We'll get to your relationship with your in-laws, but first, I want to concentrate on this one issue. Brian, walk me through your thought process when you decided to have sex after your wife died. Can you remember how you were feeling? What your state of mind was like?"
I didn't want to think, let alone talk about my state of mind. It sat like a weighted blanket at the back of my consciousness, ready to pin me under with its emotional heaviness.
"I was devastated," I croaked. "A complete wreck. I missed Hans like crazy. Everything was just...gone. The joy. The laughter. All the noise. I slept on the couch because I couldn't bear—" My voice broke, and I cleared my throat. "I couldn't bear to sleep in our bed again."
Dr. Grant's mouth turned down, and her eyes softened. "Did you get a lot of support?" she gently pressed.
"Yeah. Some. Diane and Sarah rallied around me; but at the end of the day, they were also grieving a daughter. A sister. And then, on top of that, they were still coming to terms with losing their dad and husband, who passed away not long before Hans. As you probably know." I knew Diane had started attending grief counseling when her husband died.
Dr. Grant skipped over my comment, not wanting to touch on Diane's private meetings. "Can you tell me how you felt when you were with someone else for the first time?"
I hung my head. "Guilty." The guilt sunk into my stomach, drowning it with the emotional toll.
"In the aftermath?"
I popped my head up, frowning at her line of questioning. "Well...yes."
"How did you feel in the moment? How did it feel talking to her and touching her intimately?"
What the fuck?I didn't want to remember any of that.
Dr. Grant met my incredulous stare unflinchingly. "I understand that this is an uncomfortable topic for you, but there is a point to my questions. Grief is a powerful emotion with ripple effects you may not consciously be aware of."
I still didn't see the relevance of any of this except to make me feel like a complete jackass.
"I–I felt relief. Not sexual relief," I made sure to clarify. "I mean, I felt relieved that I didn't have to go home. Back to a quiet, lonely, cold house. I felt—for a brief moment—comforted." I shook my head. "I know that sounds odd, that I found comfort in a stranger I never saw again, but that's what it felt like."
