I can’t just leave her to the wolves, can I?
Chapter 14
Helen
It probably isn’t a good sign, having one’s sort-of therapist gape in open-mouthed surprise. Considering all the things psychologists likely hear on a daily basis, it has to be something pretty shocking to get a reaction like that. Dr. Sandra recovers quickly, but still, the gape has happened.
“So both men you tried to practice dating turned out to be undercover agents looking for your brother,” Dr. Sandra summarizes, her voice calm and professional, though I notice she is blinking more than usual. “How did that make you feel?”
Because of the snow flurries forecasted for today, we opted to meet in a cafe rather than at the park. Today would have been a nice time to have the anonymity of the outdoors, but the weather had other ideas, I guess.
“Not great.” I slink down in my oversized sweater, hoping no one around us is paying too close attention. I’m back to billowy clothes and messy buns. No more makeup. No more formfitting dresses. No more hope. “I think I might try getting a cat. Maybe a Chia Pet.”
“Is that what you really want?”
I raise a finger at her. “I know that mightsoundlike giving up, but hear me out. What would a romantic relationship bring to my life, anyway? Companionship? That’s what the cat is for. Someone I have to take care of who doesn’t clean up after itself? Chia Pet. For the rest, I have GIFs of Sam Heughan.”
Dr. Sandra presses her lips in a way that means she’s trying not to show that she’s amused. “There is nothing wrong with choosing to live one’s life alone. Many people have very fulfilling lives as single individuals.However”—she gives me a look—“there is a difference between embracing what makes you truly happy, and giving up because of setbacks or fear. So I will ask you again, is that what you really want?”
I consider it. The life I’m imagining isn’t an unfulfilling life. It’s the life I’ve pretty much been living since leaving my order, minus the cat and the Chia Pet. If this is all I ultimately get out of life, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I’m content.
But, at the risk of plagiarizing Foreigner, I want to know what love is. It’s a concept I’ve only ever experienced secondhand, vicariously. Not everyone who looks for love in life finds it, and I’ve always known this was a possible outcome for me. If that ends up being the case, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Life will go on. But to miss out on the opportunity because I’m too afraid to try?Thatwould be what I regret.
“I’m encouraged by the steps you’ve been taking. Approaching a handsome stranger, asking out an acquaintance to get to know him better, trying new outfits that let you show off, instead of giving you something to hide behind.” Dr. Sandra pointedly does not look at the even-larger-than-usual turtleneck I reverted to today, though I get the message all the same. “This is all movement forward. Can you imagine the woman who first came to me being brave enough to do any of those things?”
I smile ruefully to myself, remembering the straight-out-of-the-community-house Helen and how terrified she was of everything. “No. I can’t.”
“The outcome may not have been what you were hoping for, but theprogressis something worth celebrating.” Dr. Sandra smiles at me. “Can I ask, how did you feel wearing the makeup and the dress?”
I scrunch my face, wishing I had a pillow to hide behind, I’m so embarrassed to admit it. “Pretty.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“I’ve spent so long trying not to be noticed, it’s hard to purposefully do things that make me stand out. I feel like I’m trying too hard. Like I’m betraying some past version of myself.”
Dr. Sandra nods, pondering this for a moment. “Maybe that’s a good place to start, then. We can’t control what romantic interests might come into your life, or who may or may not be an undercover bounty hunter.” She allows the rare wisp of a smile. “But what you can take charge of is your relationship with your own sense of self. The way you dress, the way you present yourself. Your sense of attractiveness, and how you do or don’t want to share that to the world. I don’t mean you have to throw away all your sweaters, though you certainly may if you choose. And I would help you. But what’s something that you could do, independent of anyone else’s response, that would help you get in touch with yourself as an attractive, sexual being?”
That…is a very good question. I stare at her for a moment. “I have a feeling you won’t take ‘Chia Pet’ for an answer.”
“No.” Another press of her lips. “But you can take your time. Really think about it. Remember, this isn’t about proving something to me, Helen. It’s about proving something to yourself.”
I sigh, nodding in deference to her superior wisdom. “Okay. I think I can try that…”
We hug in parting, quibble over whether Dr. Sandra will take the leftover scones—we always do, and she always eventually does—and make plans for our next meeting. We usually don’t meet so frequently, but recent events demanded we bump up our regularly scheduled programming.
As Dr. Sandra and I start out the door, we run into Dan and Quinn coming in. It shouldn't be too unexpected, since I chose the cafe baed on its proximity to Dr. Sandra's building on East Randolph, and Quinn lives there, too—it's a whole thing, where a bunch of their friends all live in separate apartments in the same complex, and Dan still visits regularly.. I think Quinn owns the building or something, since I was also offered an apartment when I first moved here at an unbelievably low rent; but despite the price point, I declined. I thought, considering the source of the offer, this might make me a little too easy to access by my mother.
“Hey, fellas, what’s shaking?” Dr. Sandra quips in a sassy screwball comedy voice.
Before I can echo her greeting (well, nothergreeting specifically, because coming from me it would sound unhinged), Dan and Quinn both stop abruptly at the sight of me, freezing in place like they’ve just seen a ghost. For a moment, they just stare. Then both avert their gazes, like looking at me too directly might turn them to stone or something. Dan swipes off the beanie he was wearing, twisting it in his hands.
“Hi, Sister.” They don’t quite say it in unison, but close enough.
Dr. Sandra looks at me and rolls her eyes. “So as you can see, Helen, your fears about transitioning back into society are completely unfounded,” she deadpans.
As embarrassing and awkward as the whole exchange is, I know it doesn’t come from a bad place. Dan and Quinn, like myself, were both raised super Catholic, and it’s hard to unsee someone as a member of a religious order when you’ve known them that way for a long time. I try my best to smile unaffectedly. “Hi, Dan and Quinn. It’s just Helen now.”
“Sorry, Sis—” Dan shakes his head, correcting himself, and grits his teeth to say, “Helen.”
