A picture of him and his wife at their wedding, younger and glowing with happiness. A picture of them with their son at his college graduation, older and no less happy.
They just make me ache for my family.
As Dr. Wilson wasn't exactly what I expected of a therapist, his office sure as hell wasn't what I expected of a shrink's office. There wasn't a receptionist or stupid motivational posters on the walls.
It looked like a regular office, with dark-wood furniture and a dark-green sofa. The wall behind his desk was just shelves filled with various medical journals and books, along with a few small knick-knacks.
Dr. Wilson slides a pair of glasses on, and opens a notebookon his lap. His brown eyes are kind as he studies me.
Wendy. Liam. Noah.Their names have become a mantra—the whole reason I walked into this office.
Because my love for them needs to be greater than my fear of losing them.
It needs to.
"Start where you're comfortable," Dr. Wilson tells me.
I shift on the couch. It's soft and plush, and yet I still can't find a comfortable position. My skin feels too tight, my back and palms sweating. I feel too hot and too cold. My leg muscles keep tensing like they’re going to leap up and sprint out of the room.
"I'm not comfortable."
Dr. Wilson chuckles, and the gravelly sound loosens a knot in my throat.
"Would you prefer me to ask you questions, then?" I nod. "Okay. Why are you here, Atlas?"
"To... get help?" I say, and Dr. Wilson raises an eyebrow, challenging me. Taking a deep breath, I force the words. "I... I can't sleep. And... when I do sleep, I have nightmares..."
"Have you always had sleeping problems?"
"No. Never."
"When did this start?"
My hands curl into fists, and my heart rate abruptly picks up.
"About a year ago, I guess..."
"Was there a moment a year ago that was... traumatic?"
"My sister-in-law died..."
He nods. "Carrie."
"Yes."
"It was abrupt, wasn't it?" He asks, and I nod once more. "An abrupt death can be very traumatic to the family. It can shift our minds, make us really face mortality, make us scared to even leave our house."
I don't say anything, and Dr. Wilson tilts his head.
"Was there something going on with you and Carrie?"
I blink, confused. "Like...romantic?"
He nods. "There is confidentiality between us. There needs to be honesty to truly help you, so—"
"No!" I shout, shaking my head. Dr. Wilson doesn't react. "No, Carrie was... my sister. The love of my brother's life. I have Wendy. My wife. My...my Wendy,"I finish quietly.
Something shifts in Dr. Wilson's expression—understanding, like he knows just how I feel about my wife.
