“You need to call Dr. Rubin.” She arched her eyebrow at me, in stern friend mode. I felt bad for making her be my therapist. She hadn’t signed up for this. “I love you, but I’m not qualified to heal you. Promise me you’ll call her tomorrow.”
My eyes closed, and I sat with her words. The fear my therapist would tell me I was overreacting, or worse—that I’d invited Basil’s reaction—kept me circling the drain. But Dr. Rubin had never once judged me like the school counselor in my youth.
With a heavy exhale, I said, “I’ll call her.”
I stared into my wineglass, willing myself to get it together. Crying wouldn’t fix anything with my parents or with Bas. He was right to leave. He’d made a mistake to believe I could be whatever it was he wanted. We’d known each other a little over a month.
So why did I feel like I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life?
Elizabeth sipped on her wine, then brightened like her brain had woken up and a synapse had fired. “Maybe we should go to yoga tomorrow.”
I blew a raspberry. “I don’t think anything on the list is going to make this hurt less.”
“Have you tried forgiveness?”
She meant well, but I chortled. “My parents have never expressed remorse.”
“I wasn’t talking about them. It’s time you stopped beating yourself up. You’re worthy of love, too.” God, I didn’t deserve Elizabeth.
A tear slipped free and streaked down my face. I brushed it off. “You sure you don’t want to upgrade our relationship? Think about it: you keep me company for all the sappy emotional moments, and I’m an excellent kisser.”
“That’s just the arrangement I’m after.” She smiled, but therewas no joy behind it. “I’ve been waiting for you to propose.”
I laughed bitterly. “I don’t think I’m the marrying kind.”
“You might be. Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet.”
“If not you, then who?”
She yawned, then heaved herself up. “I have to go home and sleep off this food. Call Dr. Rubin.”
For the first time, I noticed Evan had cleared out as well, and I hadn’t even seen him go.
After a nice, long pity party, I finally dragged myself to bed and fell asleep without even changing into my pajamas.
In the morning, I woke with a head full of noise.
At first, I hoped that I’d dreamed everything, but then the reality of my mom’s phone call hit. I considered calling her, but I couldn’t bring myself to contact her as long as he might answer. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to talk to her after she’d let me step on a land mine with no warning.
Then I had to face what I’d said to Bas in the depths of my despair. I’d finally scared that nice guy away, and I didn’t know how to handle the emotions that stirred up. I’d never regretted ditching anyone in the past, so why did my heart cramp at the thought of never seeing him again? It was better for him.
Dr. Rubin scheduled an emergency session with me, and I sounded like a broken record.
She listened patiently, and rather than tell me I hadn’t heeded her advice, she said, “You’ve been working on putting your past into your past, and you’ve been doing brilliantly. But it’s all come back to life again, and of course you’re going to feel shock and renewed grief. But, Chelsea, you need to examine who your anger is aimed at.”
I sat with that for a bit. I knew she didn’t mean Bas. And she must not mean my dad because he was my enemy number one. Did she mean me? Was this one of those Zen awakenings where Iwas my own enemy all along? I had no answer until it hit me. My mom. I’d been giving her a pass for so long, but she was the one allowing this man into my life over and over. My dad had fucked me up by making me flinch at the idea of romance. But my mom was the one who taught me loneliness was all I deserved. It was the only safe option.
“So what now? I’m supposed to forgive her? Then I’ll stop fucking up my life?”
That got a laugh out of her. “You should know by now there’s no silver bullet, but why don’t you write her a letter, like you did to your dad? You don’t have to send it, but you can work through some of this anger by telling her how you feel. She never needs to hear it until you’re ready to confront her.”
I’d never be ready to confront her. Whatever else she’d done, she’d been my only family, and she was a victim, too. She was a moth that kept flying into the bug zapper, but that was her nature. I didn’t want to keep flying with her.
“What do I do about Bas?”
“Remember what I told you about communicating? You need to figure out exactly what it is you want from him, whether that’s nothing, just friendship, or something more. And you need to make sure you’re both on the same page.”
Well, that would be difficult considering he’d probably, justifiably, run for the hills. And if I could talk to him, what would I even say?
