She swallowed hard. “It’s not that I haven’t wanted to paint. I do.”
“I believe you.”
“I sit in the studio and stare at the canvas. It’s like I’ve suddenly forgotten how to paint or what color even is.”
“You’re not ready yet.”
Beth leaned back into the couch cushion and closed her eyes. “I fucking hate that answer.”
“You’re allowed to hate it.”
They sat quietly. Beth picked at her nailbed as she listened to the ticking of the clock on the desk and the occasional scratch of Lenore’s pen. She closed her eyes, then, without planning to, she said, “I think I pushed her into it.”
Lenore didn’t ask who, because they both knew who.
“Before we ever started dating, Jamie told me that she was scared of getting close to people. She didn’t want to hurt anyone if her cancer came back, and I—” She opened her eyes, looking directly at Lenore. “I told her that I wasn’t afraid of the risks and that I wanted her, even though she was actively pushing me away. I think I guilted her into giving us a shot. And then she died. And now I get to live with that.”
Lenore stayed quiet. Beth guessed she was waiting to see what Beth would do with her own words; they had played this game before. Beth would simply wait her out.
“That’s a very painful version of your and Jamie’s story,” Lenore finally said. “But it’s still only one version of the truth.”
Beth clenched her jaw. “What if it’s the right one?”
Lenore tilted her head, giving Beth a long, assessing look. “I’m curious why you believe that version and not the one where Jamie chose you?”
More silence followed by the gentle tick of the clock. Damn it, there were still thirty minutes left in this session.
“Lily’s Olympic trials start on Thursday,” Beth said, quickly changing the topic. The scratching of Lenore’s pen accompanied her pivot.
“I remember. How is she feeling?”
“Good. Lily is such a strong kid. She had a great freshman year, and she and her coach are feeling really good about where she is going into trials. I’m just so proud of her. She handled Jamie’s death so well. I know they say kids are resilient, and Sarah and I got her into therapy quickly… She really does seem like she’s in a good place.”
Beth had always been in awe of her daughter. That feeling had only deepened as Lily grew older. God, she was so proud of her—the way Lily carried herself and how she always took whatever life handed her head-on. Beth knew exactly where Lily got that from. Like Sarah, their daughter took everything in stride, nothing ever shaking her stable foundation.
“And how are you feeling about trials?”
“Fine.”
Lenore raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you gripping the sleeve of your sweater so tightly?”
Surprised, Beth glanced down, releasing the fabric from her grip.
“What were the last trials like?” Lenore asked.
Beth’s mind slipped back to that day four years ago in the loud arena. The excitement had been palpable as she and Sarah sat in the stands watching their daughter become an Olympian, Jamie right there alongside Lily. “They were perfect,” she whispered, not meeting Lenore’s gaze.
This wasn’t the first time their conversations had led them down this path, one Beth knew she had a habit of frequenting.
“Is that something you’d like to explore more today?”
Beth let the question hang in the silence between them. This was exactly why the office needed some art. She had nothing to look at but Lenore.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
That clock. She wanted to stand up, cross the room, and throw the damn thing out the window. But instead, she took a deep breath before once again pulling their conversation in a different direction. “I haven’t had an orgasm since Jamie died.”
Lenore’s pen stopped midmovement as Beth’s words landed flatly. She had been thinking about bringing this up for weeks, but it always felt too awkward. She prided herself on being a sex positive person. Sex, after all, was a natural part of the human experience, but still, she had never quite been able to bring herself to talk about sex in therapy—until now.
