Page 103 of Counting On You

“Oh. It’s nothing. We’re all trying to help.” Her cheeks blush.

“I’m sure of that. But I’d still like to point out that I couldn’t have found a better therapist than you.”

The red stains on her cheeks darken. If she isn’t careful, she’ll soon resemble a tomato.

“So, you have absolutely no desire to fraternize?” she asks.

“Not one bit.” I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees. “It’s like a miracle. I’ve had a great deal to reflect upon since my arrival. I’ve come to the conclusion that sex isn’t the answer to solving the pain inside me.” More like the itch, but I keep that part to myself. “I’ve recognized, too, that my past has shaped me. It’s taken me a long time to accept that moving from foster home to foster home didn’t exactly help me in becoming the person I want to be.”

I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, but to be honest, it can be quite boring in here. Now that Vicky’s ignoring me, this is the only fun I can have.

I’ve been playing the broken patient who’s just had a big revelation, or my favorite—the perfect, humble and grateful patient—card for the past two weeks and it’s been paying off.

It works this way:

She asks a question and I come up with the answer she wants to hear, then give her all the credit for helping me to come to the right conclusion. It’s been working like a charm. She’s sucking everything up.

My therapist nods. “A journey is like a sunrise. It’s night at first, but it reminds you that every darkness becomes light, giving rise to new beginnings. A sunrise is never defined by yesterday’s dawn. Every day is a new beginning.” She leans forward, her eyes sparkling. “Life has shaped you but it hasn’t broken you. Don’t let your past define you, Kade.” She puts her notepad down, hesitating before she continues. “It’s probably a bit early to ask the question, but I’ll give it a try anyway because I believe in you. What are your plans when you get out of here?”

I muse over her question for a moment.

Will I stop fucking? No.

Will I host a party? Hell, yes.

I’m going to host the biggest party in the city to celebrate my comeback, and everyone’s going to be talking about it.

I let out a fake breath, dropping my tone until I’ve infused enough sadness into my voice to fool her. “The first thing I’ll do is find a support group and check in. Then I’m going to try to live in the present, take it one step at a time, one day after another, because I know it’s going to be hard. And I’m planning to exercise a lot.”

“Those are good thoughts, Kade.” She nods enthusiastically, obviously pleased with my answer. “Exercise goes hand in hand with an increase in mental wellbeing. Our discharge coordinator will give you a list of local health institutions that could cater to your individual needs. The first step is to get a treatment plan and follow it through. An unhealthy environment can easily lead to a relapse. It might be necessary to cut ties with old friends.”

“I understand.” I draw a dramatic breath. “I don’t want to relapse. If cutting old ties is the only way for me to succeed in my endeavors, then so be it.”

“You have to think of yourself and yourself only. It’s going to be a long process, but you can do it, Kade.” She glances at her closed notebook, her hands running down the rim. Her hesitation is evident on her face. “I could help you with the transition and check in with you…for moral support, of course.”

She doesn’t need to say more because it’s pretty obvious why she’d want to continue seeing me. Once I’m out of this place and she’s no longer my appointed counselor, there’s no reason why she couldn’t pursue more than just talking.

My lips curl into a soft smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A knock at the door echoes through the room.

“I’m sorry.” She smiles apologetically, then calls out, “Yes?”

The door opens.

“Your next appointment is here.”

“Great.” She smiles at me and rises to her feet. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Wright. When can I expect you tomorrow?”

“Same as always.” I shake her hand, making sure to prolong the action for a second too long. “Two p.m.”

“Oh, right.” She laughs nervously, and I make sure to shoot her one of my lingering smiles.

Women dig the lingering look, the lingering touch. I do it out of habit, not because I enjoy it. She’s nothing like Vicky. No one is. Vicky’s actually the first woman who seems to be avoiding me now after we’ve had sex. The thought bothers me just as much as the realization that she’s also the first woman I want to keep in my life.

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