Dimple closes her notebook and sets it aside. “Your answers seem guarded today. Why might that be?”
It’s annoying how transparent I am in this room. Yes, my answers are guarded, because she can’t know what I plan to do. I’m not about to sit in front of her and detail my plans for murder. I take a moment to make sure I’m composed, making a show of picking at some fluff on my shirtsleeve.
“To be honest, Dimple, I think our sessions might just be coming to a natural end.”
Her surprise is fired across the room in a rapid series of blinks. “You’re saying you’d like to end our sessions?”
“Yes. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve definitely helped me. More than you could ever know. Talking through my urges, my relationships…Helping me understand myself better. And of course, now we knowI’m not a psycho killer, there’s a less pressing need for me to keep coming.”
Dimple shifts in her seat, more dramatically this time. Her fingers flex out and in on her knees. She shifts position again. “I’m not entirely sure we’ve really unpacked what this revelation means. You have indeed done a lot of excellent work in this room, but in my professional opinion, there is still more work for you to do.”
She’s probably right, but whatever help I need, I can no longer get from her. This has to end soon, before I say something stupid and get myself caught planning to hurt Will. That, she’ll have to report immediately.
“I appreciate that, Dimple. Really, I do. But a huge reason I started coming here was thinking I was hurting people. I thought I’d hurt my exes, worried I’d one day hurt someone else. But I don’t have to worry about that anymore. And with everything with Will…We need to be careful with money right now.” I shrug, displaying an Oscar-worthy composition of contrition.
“It’s true, therapy isn’t inexpensive, but I do believe there is still important work for us to do here.”
“Dimple, I—”
“What about George?”
I’m stopped in my tracks. “What do you mean?”
“Whether you landed the fatal blow or not, you still reached for the knife.”
I can hear muffled voices outside Dimple’s door. My skirt is itchy beneath my thighs. There’s a loose thread hanging off Dimple’s sleeve. My skin begins to prickle with heat, that familiar nausea setting my mouth swimming with saliva again.
“I guess that’s true. But wouldn’t anyone in that scenario? It was self-defense.”
“And your mother. You’ve spoken for the first time in years, and we’ve hardly discussed it. How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. I’m conflicted, I gue—”
“And what will you do the next time she calls?”
“I’m not sure. But I have her number blocked.”
“And what about Claire?”
“What about her?”
“Well, how do you plan to process this betrayal?”
“Okay, Jesus!” My hand flings out emphatically, making contact with the water glass on the table beside me. It topples over to the floor, spilling its guts out into a darkening wet patch on the carpet. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I drop to my knees, retrieving the glass. I grab the box of tissues that had stood next to it, frantic, and use the sheets to mop up the liquid. “Shit.”
Silent as a cat, Dimple is suddenly beside me, hands gently taking the glass and tissues away. It’s rare that we’re this close, her perfume stronger than I’ve smelled it before. It’s a little sweet and musky, vanilla and sandalwood, I think. She gently rests one hand on mine.
“Relax, Natalie. It’s just water.”
I’m not sure she’s ever touched me before. It’s so unexpected and electrifying that it feels like perhaps it’s not allowed. She removes her hand and rises, placing the tissues and empty glass at a safe distance on her desk. The skin on the back of my hand now feels cold.
“It’s just a little water,” she reiterates as we both take our seats again.
“Sorry. Yes, you’re right.” About everything. I hate that she’s always right about everything. “Look, maybe you have a point. Perhaps I could come for a few more sessions and we can check in on where I’m at in a few weeks’ time.”
Dimple gives an acquiescent nod. “That seems like a plan to me. And how about next time you’re here, we talk a little more about whathappened with your sister all those years ago? The Big Fallout. I think it would be useful for us to revisit that together.”
“Okay.”
