“Why?”
My blood starts to boil at that. I haven’t been opening up to her for her to try to get me to look down on my friends. “They’re sisters. Of course it’s not gonna be easy for her to suddenly go no-contact. She may not even want to do that and that’s her choice.”
“And other victims of sexual abuse and sexual harassment, do you look down on them for not speaking up right away or at all?”
“Never.”
“So, why is it that you can extend grace to everyone but yourself?”
The question sits atop my chest like an anvil. “Well, my situation is not the same as Janelle’s.”
She tilts her head. “You’re willing to acknowledge that Janelle’s relationship with her sister is complicated and that her healing process may not be linear, but you think yours should be?”
I open and close my mouth three times before giving up completely.
Dr. Goode presses on. “You acknowledge that women who have been in your situation deserve grace and respect and the freedom to take whatever course of healing suits them best, but you’re not included in that?”
Tears burn my eyes and Dr. Goode passes me a tissue before the first one falls. “He doesn’t deserve my tears,” I cry.
She passes me another tissue. “He doesn’t. But you do.” A beat passes before she adds, “Dani. You can’t expect the panic attacks to just magically go away. That’s not realistic. Who knows, maybe the third time you see him, you won’t have a panic attack. And maybe the eighth time, you’ll have another one.”
I hope I never get to eight times of being in his vicinity again. Hell, I pray I never get to three.
“Regardless of whether they happen or not doesn’t mean you’re not progressing.”
I let her words sink in, truly sink in. Deep down, I know she’s right. I just have to get to a place where I’m okay with believing that.
“Okay, Goode doctor, I hear you.”
She laughs at the moniker I’ve given her. “Good. Remember, a few weeks ago you weren’t even willing to call them panic attacks. That’s progress in itself.”
She’s got me there.
We spend the rest of our session talking about ways to manage panic attacks. She’s very impressed with Micah for knowing the five-four-three-two-one method. I’m very impressed with him for a lot of reasons.
When our session is over, Micah is waiting for me in the parking lot. He greets me with a kiss that makes my toes curl.
“How’d it go?”
“She read me for filth, yet again. So, good,” I admit.
He squeezes my thigh with a smile. We’re headed to Victor’s office to pick up his item for the auction. With the gala getting closer, we’re sorting out the very last details.
When we get there, Victor doesn’t spend too much time on small talk, which he knows I appreciate. He turns to his bookshelf and grabs the glass-covered rose, placing it in front of us.
“Wait, you’re auctioning this away?” I say in disbelief.
“Yes. Tanya gave me this one month after we started working together. She said she couldn’t bear to sit in my office for another day without some color to remind her she wasn’t in a mental institution. And for years, this thing brought all the color and light to my office. I’m hoping it can do the same for someone else now.”
I’ve never seen Victor more clearly than I do in this moment.
“Did you ever tell her?” I ask.
He scrunches his nose. “Tell her what?”
“That you were in love with her.”
He doesn’t try to deny it. He closes his eyes with a serene smile. “No. No, I didn’t.”
