Well, when Dr. Jean put it that way, it sounded like I’d done a good thing this week. And yeah, Tink and I were getting along better. We spent a few nights working well together on our project, which was due next Tuesday, so that had something to do with it. There were still moments she earned her nameTinkwhen we weren’t study partners, but overall, there was improvement.
But what my doctor didn’t know was what I’d been fantasizing about.
My mind had become consumed with thoughts of Ava. The nicer she was to me, the more they increased.
When she smiled at me, I envisioned walking up and pulling her close, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist as her legs wrapped around mine. I’d place her on the kitchen island, stand between those toned legs clad in sleep shorts as her hands landed against my ass. I’d lean in close, my mouth against herneck, feeling her pulse beating faster as her breath hitched. My lips would work their way up her jaw, toward that lip ring that taunted me day and night. Her tongue would play with it as I approached. All signs she wanted this as much as I did.
Like I said, it was a fantasy.
Or when we walked upstairs after a night of working together, and I admired her amazing ass in those tight jeans, my mind dreamt of her taking my hand and leading me to her room. Of course it didn’t happen, and I wound up in my own bed. But once I did, that fantasy continued, and my hand wound up on my dick.
It frustrated the hell out of me that I felt this way.
“Um, yeah, I guess you could say that. We’ve been getting along better,” I told her through the screen.
If my therapist knew I was hoping for a relationship, she wouldn’t think I was doing as well as she thought. Although, I was hoping for a relationship with someone who only last week still showed signs of hating me, so I was getting ahead of myself.
Was it a relationship I wanted, or was it sex I was after?
“Well, that’s excellent, Logan,” Dr. Jean said, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re doing great. That combined with putting yourself in the setting of the party last week and coming out as well as you did, how does that make you feel?”
How did that make me feel?
Being around the alcohol at the party wasn’t the problem, Ava was. So I guess I was doing pretty well.
“I feel…proud. It also feels good to be kinda normal. I mean, I know I’m not partaking while at the parties, but it felt good to be at one. And socialize again.”
She nodded at my response, her smile wide.
“Also, I’ve decided that since I’m not going to be joining a fraternity, I’m joining a team.” Her eyes lit up through the screen. “They don’t have a club football team, and that was mysport in high school, but they have rugby. That’s pretty similar, so I’m heading to a meeting next week and plan on joining.”
I’d decided to do it after the party. I couldn’t spend all my weekends alone or trying to deal with parties; I needed something just for me. A rough team sport was the perfect outlet for dealing with my own brain.
“Great idea, Logan. And you know how I feel about adding physical activity to your life, so the more the better,” she said. But then her face morphed into a look I knew all too well as her lips thinned and her head tilted to the side: the warning was coming. She snickered at my knowing look.
“There is something else I need to bring up. I’m sure you think you’re prepared for what I’m going to say,” she said. “Usually this is when I tell you to be vigilant with your techniques if you’re having any panic attacks, or to call me if you need me more than what’s scheduled. But what you need to be prepared for is a relapse, Logan.”
I couldn’t even swallow my own spit past the lump in my throat. Did she not have faith in me to succeed? Did she see something in me that told her I would fail?
“What are you saying?”
“No one likes to hear it, but statistics show that it’s more prevalent than we’d like to admit. Especially in your age bracket. But the positive is you made it well past the ninety-day mark, which is the time frame most relapses occur.” She paused. “Of course, the concern now is you have access to your addictive substance.” Her smile returned. “Chin up, kiddo. I’m still rooting for you. This in no way means I think you’re going to relapse, it’s just something we need to talk about because of its prevalence combined with your new circumstances. I’d be remiss to not bring it up.”
It was shitty to hear the news, but I was well past the first window. I was nine months into my sobriety already. Reachinga full year was a major milestone. The one thing I hadn’t continued with once returning to school were my AA meetings. There just wasn’t enough time in the day, in my life, to fit them in. But with her explanation about relapses, maybe I needed to make time.
“Can I ask you one more question?” she asked.
I nodded slowly through the computer screen. My body was going numb at this point, not sure I could take much more of today’s session.
“It’s been a while since we’ve spoken about your father, your real father. I know it’s a topic you prefer to shy away from, but I’d like to add it to our ticket for next week, if that’s OK?”
My father. He wasn’t a man I wanted to talk about ever again. Unfortunately, he was a person who still infiltrated my thoughts, my head, more often than he should. And that probably meant I should talk it through.
My eyes looked around my room, bouncing from ceiling to floor, avoiding the screen at all costs. But she gave me the time I needed. Eventually, I found my way back to her.
Her look was calming as she sat in her worn leather office chair. An office I was all too familiar with, and at times longed for. I loved the sound machine she always had on, the sound of soothing ocean waves in the background. Sometimes I felt as though these video sessions weren’t quite getting the job done.
“Yeah, we can add it to next week’s session,” I told her. Though I wouldn’t be looking forward to it.
