Page 18 of The Therapist

“I understand now,” I say, my voice cracking a little. “I think I understand why you did what you did, why you stayed with him. I understand falling for someone… someone who’s wrong, someone who can’t love the way they should because their love is tainted. Their needs are twisted, and you believe in them anyway. You convince yourself that if you give them everything, they’ll change. They’ll become the person you hope for.”

I pause, my hands trembling slightly in my lap. “I used to judge you, Amelia. I used to think that you were weak, that you didn’t know better, but I was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t. I couldn’t have known, not until I—” I break off, my chest aching with the weight of the confession I’m finally able to make. “Not until I fell for someone who wasn’t capable of love either.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unresolved. I want to tell her more, to spill out every regret, every realization that’s come to me in the years since I’ve been coming here, but I can’t.

She can’t hear it, not now. Not when she’s so far gone.

“I kept your secret, Amelia. I kept it because I thought you’d be okay. I thought you had control. I thought you would walk away from him on your own, but you didn’t. And I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even try. I let you disappear, and I let them do this to you. I let you become this version of yourself… someone who doesn’t even recognize her own reflection.”

A single tear escapes, slipping down my cheek, but I wipe it away quickly, determined not to break down in front of her. She’s been through so much. She doesn’t need to see me weak, not now.

“I could’ve saved you, I know that now. I could’ve told them. I should’ve told them where you were. I should’ve called the police, even if you begged me not to. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe… just maybe, this wouldn’t have been your reality. You wouldn’t be here, medicated, lost to the world. I’m so sorry. I failed you.”

I press my palms together, my fingers digging into my skin. The guilt surges like a tidal wave. The weight of the years without her has been unbearable, and I wish—God, I wish I could go back and change everything. I wish I could have saved her.

But the past is set. It’s done. Amelia is a broken shell, and there’s nothing I can do to fix her. I wonder if she’ll ever know how much I wish I could’ve saved her, if she’ll ever understand how sorry I am. How she shaped my life in so many different ways.

“I understand now, Amelia. I understand how it feels to lose yourself to someone who doesn’t deserve you. I understand how you thought you could fix him, change him, save him with your love… but it doesn’t work that way, does it? Some people aren’t capable of love. Not the way we need them to be.”

I reach out and take her hand. It lies limp in mine, warm but unresponsive. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I speak again.

“I won’t make the same mistake again. I won’t stand by and let someone destroy themselves like you did. I won’t let myself drown in the illusion of love when it’s really just a desire to be wanted.” The words sit between us like static, buzzing in the fluorescent overhead light.

I sit with her in silence for a long time, the only sound in the room my shaky breath and the soft hum of the machines. I wish I could do more. I wish I could make it all better. But I can’t. I just can’t.

And so, I leave her there—this girl I failed, this girl who was once my best friend.

Eight

Past

On Mon, Jun 18, 2018, 6:46 PM Nora Lockwood wrote:

I Googled your event for the dates. I booked you a room with a view, as they say, at Ocean Voyeur. Check in Friday evening, checkout Sunday morning. It’s on Liam and me. We appreciate all the hard work and hours you give to NEL. We’ve already paid in full. Oops! Bring Flash to the center on your way out of town, he’s staying with us.

Best, Nora

P.S. Savor it! You deserve some yutori!

P.P.S. Make sure you try the Gossling Arms White wine. It will change your life.

I now need to look up yutori. I let a sigh leak out through pursed lips. I should have known better. Nora is just the sort to dothis to me. I wanted to drive up the morning of the event, do the speaking engagement, stay the night, and be home the next morning. A quick twenty-four-hour jaunt.

I should feel appreciation, gratefulness. I’m being petulant, and I know it. I rub the end of Flash’s ear between my index finger and thumb while I ask Google what yutori is with my free hand. His soft ear is comforting.

Yutori: the conscious act of slowing down to savor the world, creating space to relax and reflect.

Huh. Figures.

“Slowing down is the last thing I need,” I tell Flash. He closes his eyes, soaking up the attention from where he sprawls across the couch. The week ahead looks like a black hole on my calendar, and Nora’s generous escape hatch isn’t as enticing as it should be. But I can already hear her voice in my head, bemused and persistent, reminding me to take more time for myself lest I implode—a cautionary tale she seems determined to avoid.

Ocean Voyeur, though. The name alone suggests indolence and pier-side extravagance.

I hit REPLY:

Subject: Re: Your weekend getaway

Dear Nora,

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