When his smile breaks wide and unguarded, pure joy lighting up his face, I hum softly. “Yeah. You’re stuck with me.”
35
Ihadn’t realized I’d find such comfort in therapy.
They say stigma is a powerful weapon when wielded correctly. Michael was excellent at using it to keep me under his control—making getting help feel counterintuitive, as if the only thing wrong with me was that I didn’t trust him, that I didn’tlovehim, that he wasn’t my everything like he swore I was to him.
Brittany recommended her group sessions but also suggested I speak with one of her colleagues one-on-one. She said it wasn’t good for her to be my direct psychologist, considering she was Keo’s. I agreed wholeheartedly.
The therapist I just finished with is incredible. We share a lot of the same interests, which makes talking to him incredibly easy.
“See you next week, Ayden,” Don says as I step into the lobby of the small psychology section of the hospital. I feel like I’ve been here too often this past month, but at least this time it’s for my own benefit.
Today was Keoni’s first day back at work, and I had aligned myschedule so he could drop me off before heading in. These next three days are going to suck—royally. I haven’t been without him twenty-four-seven in four weeks, and to say I’m anxious is a massive understatement.
This first session was meant to tackle what I wanted to get out of seeing my therapist. Instead, it was him easing my nerves about something happening to Keo while on the job.
Pulling out my phone, I open my messages. I’ve only got two; one from Alysa wishing me luck with therapy, and the other from Keo.
Keo
I know I said it when I dropped you off, but I hope your session goes as you hope. You’ll feel lighter afterward, and if you need to talk, just call me. I’ll always answer.
I have to physicallystopmyself from showing my giddiness.
A few email notifications had popped up alongside the texts. I normally wouldn’t check them immediately, but one is from Dr. Yadav. Before responding to my sister, I decide to see what it says.
Hi, Ayden,
This is Dr. Yadav. Can you please contact me? I’ve tried to call you, but it seems as though your phone has been turned off. My number is below.
Signed,
Dr. Markus Yadav
San Francisco General Hospital
ER/OR
I step between the two sliding doors to the outside, staying within the warmth but out of earshot of anyone passing by. Tapping the number at the bottom of the email, I press my phone to my ear and listen as it rings.
I’ve been sort of waiting for this call, so even with my heart thundering in my chest, I feel ready.
“This is Dr. Yadav.”
“Hey, it’s Ayden Pierce.”
A sigh of relief filters through the speaker. “Ayden, it’s so good to hear your voice. How’re you doing?”
I lean against the wall, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Good… things have been a bit hectic, but I feel like I’m doing better. How’re you? How’re things?”
“I’m doing alright, busy as ever. Things here are… interesting.”
“Suppose that’s San Fran for you.”
He lets out a short, pitched chuckle. “Yeah.” As he takes a deep breath, I brace myself. “Did you put in your letter of resignation?”
There it is.
