Page 4 of King of Clubs

The thought of not having weekly appointments was perplexing. While I was proud and thankful I also felt sad and a little confused. What did this mean?

Did I need a session just to unpack the idea of reducing time spent here and why she thought I was ready? Or was I deferring the inevitable because spending an hour a week here was part of my routine now.

She gave me time to ponder my thoughts before she stood and I took a deep breath, mirroring the movement

“You have graduated psychology,” she announced proudly.

“So, in other words, I won?” I asked with raised brows and she laughed, her eyes crinkling with warmth.

“You should be proud of yourself. You’ve really come so very far.” She opened the door and I fought the urge to hug her. Tell her how much I appreciated this space and ask her if we could be friends who met for coffee while we chatted about things other than why I was a hot mess. Realistically, I knew I was one of hundreds, but Suzie always made me feel as though she genuinely cared and it was part of the reason I’d come so far.

Instead, I thanked her and did as she requested, scheduling my next appointment four weeks later. And it was with a slight spring in my step that I headed home.

“Whatcha doing?”

I dropped my phone in fright not expecting anyone to be home let alone Arna’s voice to be close enough that I could smell the Fanta she was drinking. The perfectly arched brows of my best-friend framed her narrowed eyes, which told me she’d seen exactly what I was doing.

“Oh my god. Don’t judge me.” I wanted to lie but I was busted and needed to fess up despite the horror of the confession.

“Since when have I ever judged you?” She asked with faux dismay.

“Since I wore those peddle pushers a couple of years ago and you said I looked like I was ready for theTour De Terrible Fashion.“ Arna burst out laughing, her signature cackle bouncing around my room –herspare room.

“Fine,” she giggled as she sat heavily on the bed next to me. “Maybe I’m a little judgemental. But tell me anyway.”

“Okay, but I need to give you some context too before you go crazy.” Mumbling, I confessed, “I was doing my best to find Suzie on social media.”

“As in your therapist, Suzie?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” I replied, biting my thumb nail. “In our session today she told me I’vegraduatedtherapy and has pushed us out to monthly appointments.”

“That’s great. I told you I’d noticed how much brighter you’ve been lately,” she said with a tap to my thigh.

“This is not great!” I snapped. “I feel as though she’s breaking up with me so now I need to find her on social media because I need to know everything about her, her children and any person she has ever met. It might make me feel better.”

Arna laughed, “The only thingthatis making you, is completely psycho.”

“Oh, sue me, okay. She made me feel as though I was her friend,” I said with a whine.

At this point, I was judging myself but I was nothing if not persistent and would go down fighting.

“Marlee! This is unhealthy and detrimental to your growth.”

“Oh, pssh. I literally just signed us up for a pilates class. What screams growth more than getting this booty onto those weird cable things. Now my mind is stronger, I need to work on the rest.” I joked.

Fitness used to be my life. The gym was a place of comfort and stability both physically and mentally. But I lost most of that when I was with Lucas. He took my passion away with the disgusting insults he threw at me. But with Suzie, I’d also discovered my self-esteem had skyrocketed and my confidence was stronger than ever.

“It’s called a reformer, love. Flick loves pilates too. But I don’t think I’m available that day.”

“I haven’t even told you when yet,” I glared at her until she rolled her eyes reaching for my phone.

“Okay, fine, I’ll go. Now show me Suzie babes, I want to stalk her too.” Zooming in on the photo I only just found she said, “I can’t believe we haven’t done this before, I love a social media deep-dive.”

“Right? Surely everyone does this,” I self-validated, looking at a photo of her with her grandchildren. Urgh. She looked so normal and happy – just like she did in our sessions. I bet she didn’t need a therapist.

“Be honest, how much of your time with her do you spend avoiding your feelings with sarcasm?”

My mouth fell open in horror as my hand flung across my chest, “Your audacity is extreme right now. I would never.” She glared at me with a raised brow, not even pretending to humour me.

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