“Yeah.” He rubs at his nape. “Why don’t we call it a night. I’ll take you to your place to change and then drop you back at the university to meet the girls.”
“But we didn’t finish…” I gnaw on the corner of my mouth.
“Yeah… It’s fine. We can just call this one. I should clean my knee anyway.”
“O-kay. Yeah… Makes sense.” I look down at my feet and back up. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
The twist in my abdomen cautions that this is a big deal. At least, it may become one. If I can’t trust Garrett barely a mile into an unfamiliar path, how am I going to trust him for the 10K and half-marathon we’ll need to run together before I transition to train with Anker? If I can’t trust Garrett, can I trust Anker? For the first time, I worry that I can’t do this. Not because of my physical fitness ability, because I’m learning my body is stronger than I thought.
It’s my heart I worry about.
15
MILE FIFTEEN
TRUST
“Why can’t I trust him?” I whine, falling back against the cushy couch in Dr. Nor’s office.
It’s our last session of the year. Tomorrow, I head to Solvang with Anker and Garrett for Christmas before I head off with Kayla and Catherine for a ladies’ trip to the Bay Area. My sessions are on hiatus until after the new year.
“Why do you think you don’t trust him?” she says in her always calm tone.
Pouting, I cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t doctor me. Can you just tell me what the issue is?”
“Me telling you the answers isn’t how this works.”
“Can’t we make an exception? It could be my Christmas gift from you?” I grab one of the pillows from the couch and hug it to my chest.
“Too late. I already gave you homemade fig thumbprint cookies,” she quips. “You may think you want me to give you the answers, but you know that doesn’t help you in the long run. Therapy is about you using the tools we work on to figure your own shit out. I’m just your guide.”
Guide?I roll my lips together, taking in that word. I swirl it around inside me like newly-poured wine, debating on how it tastes.
She’s right, of course. Damn me for having a smart, capable therapist. Dr. Nor is my guide to figure things out. Just as Garrett is my guide to run a marathon. A marathon that I’m using to…Figure things out, I release a hard breath.
“Garrett’s my guide, too.”
“Mmhmm…” she says, a smug smile evident in her cheekiness. “And do you trust Garrett?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” I repeat, sitting up straight. “There’s no reason not to trust him. He’s never done anything that warrants distrust.”
“But yet your actions indicate that you don’t… Not really. You trusted him when you were in a familiar place. A place where you knew you didn’t truly need him. I’d imagine anywhere on campus, you could figure out how to keep yourself safe, correct?”
“Yes.” I pull at the pillow’s fringe.
“But the moment you were somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere you didn’t have a plan B for, you stopped trusting him.” She clicks her pen. “Or you stopped trusting yourself.”
It’s like a one-two punch to my heart. Trust. In Garrett. In myself. It knots inside me, making it difficult to pull apart. No matter how much I know I trust Garrett, it’s clear that I am not able to.
“What’s the first incident that comes to mind of the last time you were in an unfamiliar situation, and had to trust someone?” She tilts her head.
“Undergrad.” I shift in my seat.
