“What about Lo?” I ask, clearing my throat. I sweep the last of my tears away. “What should I do now that he’s coming back?”
She unlocks her cabinet drawer and I watch her pull out a small white envelope. “Before I give you this,” she says, “I want to congratulate you on your ninety days of celibacy.”
I think I hear her wrong. “I haven’t been celibate.”
Her smile is warm. “Have you had sex with another partner?”
“Lo and I had…Skype sex,” I say, flushing a little at the words.
“But he hasn’t actually penetrated you,” she reminds me. I turn even redder at the wordpenetrateand silently wonder how she didn’t even blink when she said it.
“So I’ve been celibate?” I say, a little unbelieving.
“For your personal treatment and what you needed to do,yesyou have completed your celibacy period. You should be proud of yourself.”
There’s really only one thought on my mind. “So I can have sex with Lo?” I want to jump up from the chair and do a jig or something silly. I also feel a little bipolar. A second ago I was crying and now I’m more excited than ever.
“Yes and no,” Dr. Banning says and crushes me yet again. This emotional rollercoaster is killing my stomach.
She slides the white envelope towards me. “Based on our sessions, I’ve listed your limits. Sexual acts that you should never participate in and acts that you should limit yourself. Think of these as guidelines or rules for sex.” I always thought the words sex and rules should never be synonymous. I guess things will definitely be changing for me.
I take it quickly and press my finger against the crease to rip the seam.
“Before you open it,” she cuts me off. “I’m going to advise younotto look at it.”
I frown. That doesn’t make any sense. “How will I know what not to do?”
“Have you ever heard of the saying ‘people want what they can’t have?’” she asks. I don’t like where this is going. “In my experience, every time someone chooses to read that envelope,it’s much more difficult to abide by it. They get scared and they usually never share the information with their sexual partner. You have a choice, Lily. You can either look inside the envelope now or you can give it to Lo and let him take care of it.”
That sounds like a huge decision, one that could change everything. Reading it now could seriously terrify me. I can just imagine the wordssex once a monthwritten in clean scrawl. I think I’d have a panic attack. With Lo around, abstaining from sex will be a thousand times more difficult, and I know how draining telling menowill be. But that’s exactly why I should give it to him, so I don’t punk out and toss the letter in the trash.
Let him decide my fate.
My nerves spike at the thought of being in that unbearable unknown. But maybe Dr. Banning was right.
Giving up something isn’t the same thing as losing control.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Dr. Banning says, “and when you and Lo feel ready, you both can see me together.”
Great. I’ve never had a one-hundred percent heart-to-heart about addiction with Lo. Not sure how therapywithhim will turn out. Another hurdle to look forward to.
I slip the envelope into my back pocket and give Dr. Banning a quick thanks and handshake before I leave. On the way out, my stomach overturns. I know how well choices can alter the future.
We started a fake relationship. We ended it. We dated. We loved. And then we separated. Pain, happiness, joy and hurt ricochet from each path taken and from each memory uncovered.
One decision can change my life forever.
3 1/2 YEARS AGO
I hold the strap to my Captain America plush backpack, which can easily alternate into a pillow if need be. Every time I’ve spent the night at Lo’s house, I stuff my toiletries and clothes into the little inside pocket. With my seventeenth birthday in a couple days, I should probably retire the backpack for a morematureoption. Like Batman. But Lo would kill me if I went DC on him.
I shift on his doorstep, not used to entering his place by the front door. I usually go through the window. Much cooler. Having to wait on the stoop of the enormous mansion just reminds me that tonight is a little different than most. I raise my knuckles to the door but decide to use the lion metal knocker instead. I slam it a couple times and twiddle with the strap to my backpack. Waiting.
After a solid minute, the door swings open, more lights streaming onto the stoop. And my mouth falls and my face scrunches. Lo stands before me, but he’s…
“What are you wearing?” we both say at the same time.
What am I wearing?!He has on black slacks and a white button-down, looking nearly twenty-two. His light brown hair is still a little messy, but it’s systematically disheveled. He’s clean-shaven, and his cheeks sharpen, pouting his lips as he stares from my toes to my head.
