“That’s a big step, Iggy.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “It is.”
Dr Williams leaned back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other, her maroon gaucho pants swishing with the movement. I looked down at her trainers, fighting a smile. She still wore her favourite Converse, sky blue and covered in ducks.
“Let’s talk about the difference,” she said. “Between this time and last time.”
I didn’t need to think long.
“Last time I was angry,” I admitted. “At my parents, mybody, myself.” I swallowed. “And I was lonely, even when people were around.”
She cocked her head and fiddled with the end of her long braid. “And this time?”
I thought about the nights alone, when I didn’t have Bodhi to speak to whenever I wanted. The cravings that came and went like the weather. The mornings I woke up and decided to stay. Chose to see the programme through to the end.
“I learned how to sit with myself,” I said, turning my attention to the window.
To the gardens two floors below that sat just beyond the glass panes. To the paths I’d once walked with Bodhi, the fields filled with wildflowers, the bench we used to share when we vaped.
“I learned not to run when things get uncomfortable.” I inhaled steadily. “That I won’t disappear just because I’m alone.”
Dr Williams’s expression softened. “You didn’t have Bodhi here.”
“No, and that was hard,” I agreed. “But also... necessary.”
We’d discussed my evolving friendship with Bodhi during my first stay, when she’d warned me not to put weight on relying on others to get me through recovery. Of course, this time I’d told her how completely our relationship had changed, and she’d told me honestly that she’d expected it would happen if we ever bumped into each other in the outside world.
“Tell me why.”
I turned away from the window, directing my attention back to Dr Williams.
“Because if I hadn’t learned to stand on my own two feet, I would’ve continued to lean on him instead. Turned him into a crutch, or a distraction.” I swallowed. “That wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”
She nodded. “Love can’t be the foundation of recovery. But it can be part of the structure.”
I smiled faintly. “Bodhi understood that better than I did,” I whispered. “But now, so do I.”
Dr Williams wrapped her mint-green cardigan tighter around her middle. She studied me for a moment longer than usual, her gaze thoughtful.
“We haven’t discussed your family much during our sessions this time. Is that intentional?”
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I think it is.”
She nodded, inviting me to continue without pressing.
“I spent a long time believing that if I was someone better, if I was the person they wanted me to be rather the gay son who was a complete fuckup, then maybe they’d actually want me.” I chewed on my lower lip. “That they’d love me properly.”
She didn’t interrupt.
“But this time, I stopped asking that question.” I shrugged. “I stopped wondering why they couldn’t show up for me and started asking what it was costing me to keep hoping they would.”
My fingers curled into the sleeve of my hoodie. Bodhi’s hoodie. One of his baggy Noctis jumpers that he’d snuck into my bag. I’d cried when I pulled it out, and had spent the afternoon burying my face in the material. Sniffing the cologne he’d purposely sprayed.
“And?” Dr Williams asked.
“It was costing me everything,” I said simply. “My self-worth. My progress. My peace.”
She tilted her head. “So, what have you decided?”
