All of my conversations with Elise felt surface-level, about material things, or about work, or... Sophie.
But, besides those things, we had little to nothing in common.
Elise was materialistic. Elise was snobby. Elise could wear a polite smile with one side of her mouth and talk badly about someone on the other side. She was beautiful, definitely, but it was all veneer, artificial and easily cracked.
She didn't want me for who I was. She wanted what I could provide: the job, the lifestyle, the city connections. She liked what I could give and gave me nothing in return besides emptywords and a willing body. Disgustingly enough, I took advantage of that.
Elise didn't mean anything to me, not like Sophie.
Sophie cared for me. She loved me, but even more than that, Sophie heard me, respected me, desired me, and trusted me. She went the extra mile in everything she did for me.
I tossed away a woman like Sophie for Elise.
"When did it really start?"
The question pulls me out of my thoughts, and I blink, confused, almost dazed.
"When did what start?"
"I assume you're marking the day you cheated on Sophie as the day you made it physical," Dr. Forseti says, her voice low but firm. She shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward enough to signal that she's about to dig deeper. I tense. "But I think we should look back to when you really started the affair. When you first crossed that emotional line."
She shrugs almost casually, but her eyes stay sharp. "So, Paul, tell me when it really started. The truth, no matter how ugly it is..."
I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to locate the exact moment in time when Elise stopped being a coworker and became... something else.
In my head, I tell myself I'd always kept a line between us, a firm boundary. She was a coworker, a friend. I had always seen her as an attractive woman. I checked her out and admired her, but that was that.
I rationalized it as admiring a piece of art. I already had a Masterpiece at home, but it's also nice to look at other pieces, right? However, as we began working together more closely, I maintained a professional relationship until...
Until Sophie approached me, held her robe open, and said, "Paul, can you come look at this?"
"When Sophie found a lump in her breast," the words escape from my throat in a ragged gasp, and I'm briefly worried I'm going to vomit. "That's when it shifted. That's when... everything became real. Scary."
Dr. Forseti nods, her tone neutral. "How did it proceed from there?"
"We made appointments for Sophie. I talked to my friends, to my family, and... to Elise about it. She was one of the first people I told. At work the next day."
"And how did each of the people you talked to respond?"
I swallow hard. "I told them about the lump—and I knew what it was. I mean, we didn't know, but... I just knew it was cancer. I couldfeelit, and I was terrified. My friends told me to be there for Sophie. My family said things would be okay, that we'd figure it out together. All of us. We would figure it out."
My throat tightens on the next words. "And Elise..."
Dr. Forseti tilts her head, her expression still open and disarming.
"What did Elise tell you?"
I close my eyes, thinking back to my shameful actions, playing in my mind like a horror movie. The venting lunches, the after-work conversations while lingering by my car, the meetups at Haunts. The way I was able to just crack open my skull and unspool all of my fears, my concerns, my desires.Me, me, me...
"That I was valid to be scared, that this was going to change everything, and that I needed to prioritize myself..." My voice breaks as the truth threatens to strangle me. I take a deep, uneven breath, the tears spilling down my cheeks with no resistance. Surrender. "She validated every ugly, selfish thought I had in my head. And I wanted—craved—that validation more than anything."
Dr. Forseti nods, lifting her pen to write something down.
"You were spending a lot of time with Elise? How often wouldyou have these types of conversations?"
"Almost every day," I admit, wiping my wet eyes. Dr. Forseti motions to the box of tissues on the table in front of me, and I grab one roughly. "We had doctor's appointment after doctor's appointment and all these terrifying words liketumorandbiopsyandcancerandmastectomyandchemotherapyandradiation... I felt like the floor was being torn out from underneath me..."
"And Elise threw you a rope?" she asks quietly.
