Of course she did. “I’m fine. As you can see. Now leave me alone.”
“Sloane, please.” He grabs my arm.
I yank it away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I miss you. Is that so fucking wrong? We were together for nine years,” he argues.
“We’ve had this conversation before. I’m bored of it.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Blah. Blah. Blah. So, you’ve said a million times. Stop calling it a mistake.” People are staring now. I don’t care. “You made a choice. Multiple choices. And I’m done talking about it.”
“Is this because of that redneck? His face twists. “Are you two seriously together? Because you can do better than someone like him.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“So, you are. Jesus, Sloane. You couldn’t even wait a month before …”
“Before what? Before moving on from the man who destroyed my trust. Before finding someone who treats me with respect?” I’m shaking now. “You don’t get to judge me. You don’t get to have an opinion on my life. You lost that right.”
“I love you.”
“You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. The version of me that did everything you wanted, who never questioned you, and made herself smaller so you could feel bigger.” My voice breaks. “But that person is gone. And she’s not coming back.”
I walk away before he can respond, my hands shaking so hard I can barely pull out my phone. I don’t know who to call. Riley is at work. Maggie is probably dealing with her own crisis. My thumb hovers over Jax’s number. But I can’t. I can’t keep running to him every time things get hard. I need to figure this out myself. So, I just keep walking, past the decorations and the happy couples and the Christmas music, feeling more alone than I have in my entire life.
Dr. Chen listens to the whole story in our next session. “So, you ran into your ex, had a confrontation, and instead of reaching out to your support system, you just walked home alone.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to be able to handle things on my own. I can’t just call Jax every time something goes wrong.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s ... that’s codependent. Seems unhealthy,” I tell her.
“Or,” Dr. Chen says gently, “that’s having a support system. That’s letting people who care about you be there for you. There’s a difference between being codependent and being supported.”
“How do I know which is which?” I ask her.
“Are you calling him because you can’t function without him? Or because you trust him and want his support?” she asks.
I think about that. “The second one.”
“Then it’s not codependence. It’s connection.” She leans forward. “Sloane, you’ve spent the last month working so hard to be independent that you’ve swung to the opposite extreme. You’re isolating yourself. Keeping everyone at arm’s length. Even the people who want to help you.”
“I just don’t want to make the same mistakes,” I tell her.
“What mistakes?”
“Losing myself in a relationship. Becoming dependent on someone else for my happiness.”
“But you’re not happy now. You’re miserable. You’re surrounded by a holiday you love, and you can’t enjoy it because you’re so busy trying to prove you don’t need anyone.” She pauses. “What if the answer isn’t choosing between needing someone and not needing anyone? What if it’s finding balance?”
Fuck.
