How did therapy go?
Really good, actually. I think I'm starting to understand some things.
Derek
Like what?
Like maybe I don't have to choose between who I was and who I am now. Maybe I can be both.
Derek
That's profound. I'm proud of you.
I'm proud of you too. How was your session with Dr. Morrison?
Derek
Hard. But good. We're working on exposure therapy for the PTSD. Facing the things that scare me instead of avoiding them.
That's brave.
Derek
That's terrifying. But you're right. Brave too.
Want to come over? We could watch a movie. Something mindless.
Derek
Bethere in 20.
I changed into comfortable clothes, tidied my side of the room, and was setting up my laptop when Derek arrived, carrying a bag from our favorite Thai place.
"Thought you might be hungry," he said, kissing me hello.
"You're perfect." I pulled him inside.
We ate on my bed, legs tangled together, laptop balanced between us. We'd picked a comedy, something light that didn't require much thought.
But halfway through, Derek paused the movie.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked.
"Always."
"I've been thinking about next year. After graduation." He took a breath, his eyes focusing on the wall behind me.
I sat up, giving him my full attention. This was huge.
"What do you want to do?"
"I'm not sure yet. But Dr. Morrison suggested maybe sports psychology. Working with athletes who are recovering from injuries, dealing with performance anxiety, that kind of thing." His eyes lit up as he talked, and a shy smile played on his lips. "I could help people the way he helped me."
"Derek, that's amazing."
"You think so? I mean, it would mean more school. Getting a master's degree. It's a long road."
"So is opening a Pilates studio," I said. "But I'm going to do it anyway."
