Inadvertently, I turn on my TV smile.“Did you see our movie?”
“Queer Girl Summer?”Dr.Nic’s eyes are firmly back on my face now.“Of course.More than once.”
“Did you like it that much?”Why does it not feel like this when some random hot girl flirts with me in a bar or on set?
“I genuinely loved it.It’s one of those movies that start with a light, easy vibe and then the deeper meaning hits and you end up sobbing through the credits.”
Wow.“Thank you,” is all I can mumble.
“What’s your next project?”Dr.Nic asks.
“I have a movie coming out in a few weeks, so promo for that is what’s next for me.”I could do without the marketing side of my job, but it’s an inextricable part of being an actor.
“What made you want to be become an actor?”Nic asks.
I chuckle, because I’ve talked about this at length with Stella and Sienna and, as it turns out, we all grew up believing the same thing: doesn’t everyone want to be a famous actor?
“I never really wanted to be anything else,” I say.
“Famous or an actor?”
“When I was a teenager, I fantasized about being famous, but now… to do a movie likeQueer Girl Summeris no longer about fame anymore.Artistically, it was extremely fulfilling.”Oh god.I sound like the second coming of Meryl Streep.“Scratch that,” I’m quick to say.“I just sounded so fucking full of myself.”
“I didn’t think so.”She shoots me a small smile.“Acting is an art.A damn difficult and vulnerable one at that.You can be proud of that.”
“I think I might have some issues with feeling proud.”
“You’re in the right place, then,” Dr.Nic says and—god fucking damn it—the warmth in her words touches something inside me.Something that I’ve buried deep and has not seen daylight in too long, if ever.
My throat grows thick, and my eyes sting.You’ve got to be kidding me.I will alsonotbe the cliché client who bursts into inadvertent tears on her therapist’s couch—at least I’m in a chair as opposed to dramatically stretched out on the proverbial couch.
I shake my head and discreetly try to wipe my eyes, which is simply impossible when someone’s sitting across from you with all their attention focused only on you.Next, she will push that goddamned tissue box in my direction and the picture of utterly obnoxious cliché will be complete.
“I have some homework for you,” Dr.Nic says, surprising me again.She doesn’t even reference my tears, although one is sliding down my cheek right now.“This coming week, whenever you think poorly of yourself, whether it be that you can’t control your temper or you think you’re a bad lesbian, just try to notice and push against it a bit.Don’t simply let yourself believe it.”
“Seriously?”I wipe my cheek dry with my palm.
“Give it a try.See what happens.”
“How, though?How would I do that?”
“Just by noticing.”
“Easier said than fucking done.”
“At least I’m not asking you to swear less,” she quips.“That would be impossible.”
Way to defuse the tension.“Sure.I’ll give it a try.”
“Thank you.”She nods at the tissue box.“They’re free of charge,” she says, delighting—and confusing me—a little bit more.
Chapter6
Nic
That night, instead of rewatchingQueer Girl Summer, I text Derek to set up a dinner with the firefighter instead.Because I’m well aware that in my session with Avery Hall earlier, I skirted far too close to several professional lines.
I’m only human and like any other human, I’m not infallible, but I have thirty years of experience in this profession that I love more than anything, and the least I can do for myself, and my professional pride, is admit that I came too close.
