Sabrina had sent me a list of five therapists. I’d interviewed three of them and Alice was the one I clicked with the most. She had kind eyes and a calm, unhurried way of speaking that didn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin. She’d agreed to meet with me bi-weekly via Zoom, which meant I didn’t have to deal with the added anxiety of navigating to a new office in an unfamiliar city.
Small mercies.
I had a modest amount saved from when I was competing—prize money and sponsorships that had accumulated before everything fell apart. My mom had also insisted I ask her for money if I needed it but the thought of doing so made my stomach churn. I was 21 years old. I should be able to take care of myself.
Derek was technically still paying me to watch Aspen, which felt a little weird now that we were sleeping together. But that was probably somewhere lower on the list of things we needed to discuss. Somewhere below “what are we” and “are you planning on coming out” and “how do we tell my brother.”
I tried not to think about it.
I set up in Derek’s living room with my iPad propped on the coffee table, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. Aspen was dozing in his bed next to the fireplace, exhausted from the extra long walk I’d taken him on this afternoon. A tired dog meant aquiet dog and I didn’t need him whining in the background while I excavated my trauma for a stranger.
Was it ironic that therapy gave me anxiety?
Probably something about spilling my deepest darkest secrets to someone I’d met once over a video call. My palms were sweating. I wiped them on my joggers.
The Zoom room opened promptly at 2 p.m. Alice appeared on screen, her greying hair pulled back in a loose bun, reading glasses perched on her nose. She smiled warmly.
“Théo. Good to see you again. How are you settling in?”
“Fine.” The word came out automatically. I caught myself. “I mean—it’s an adjustment. But I’m managing.”
“That’s good to hear.” She made a note on something off screen. “I thought today we could start by talking a bit more about what brought you to Chicago. You mentioned in our initial call that you were looking for a fresh start. Can you tell me more about that?”
I picked at a thread on my sleeve. “I needed to get out of Toronto. Too many... bad memories. I was the worst version of myself there.”
“And Chicago? Why here specifically?”
“My brother lives here.” I paused. “He offered to let me stay with him. Free rent. It seemed like the easiest option.”
“That was generous of him.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath. “It’s weird, actually. We weren’t close growing up. We were—antagonistic, I guess. He was the popular jock. I was the quiet, artistic one. We didn’t really... get each other.”
“And now?”
I thought about Avery massaging Hana’s feet while she watched a movie with us. About the way he’d unloaded Sabrina’s suitcase at the airport, awkward and earnest. About how henever asked me to talk about Toronto but always made sure there was healthy food in the fridge.
“Now it’s different. I think our time apart helped. And...” I swallowed. “I think what happened to me scared him. He doesn’t say it but I can tell he’s worried.”
“How does that feel? Having him worry about you?”
“Uncomfortable.” The word came out before I could filter it. “I’m supposed to be someone who has it together. I’ve competed at the international level. Won gold medals. I was finally a star in my own right. And now I’m living in his guest room, borrowing his car, eating his food. It’s humiliating.”
“You said ‘supposed to be.’ That’s an interesting phrase.” Alice tilted her head. “Who decided you were supposed to have it together?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Me, I guess. My parents. Coaches. Everyone.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for one person to carry.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. I looked at Aspen, still sleeping peacefully, his paws twitching in some dream.
“I’m trying,” I said finally. “To let go of some of it. I found a new coach here. Someone different from what I’m used to. He’s... patient. Doesn’t push.”
“That sounds like a positive step.”
“It is. I think.” I pulled at the thread again. “It’s just hard. Accepting help. Depending on people. I’m not good at it.”
