Page 47 of Let It Be Me
“I care about all my clients. Don’t turn this into something it isn’t.”Thud, thud, thud, goes my heart behind my ribcage. I’ll admit that deep down I like spending time withRiley. My first impression of him was based on the articles. But now that I’ve gotten to know him, he’s so much more than that.
“Okay,” Jeff says skeptically.
“Don’t worry. Besides, I drew up a contract that our arrangement ends in April.” The calendar faded to November in the blink of an eye. My heart thumps a steady beat at realizing we only have five months left of our arrangement.
Jeff gives me a look, but doesn’t press any further. With my “dating” news out of the way, he loops me in on some new agents he’s thinking of bringing on. He fills me in on what his daughter, Zoey, is up to as she prepares for her middle school choir concert and how Frankie is begging him to start baseball. And as I sit, watching him glow with pride, it makes me wonder if being hard to love and closing myself off from wanting love will stunt any personal growth I’m wanting to make.
I glareat my therapist from my seat on the couch. While I don’t have the same one as Kamryn, they do work in the same building so we’ll sometimes cross paths. But, luckily today is not one of those days.
“So you’ve talked about this,” she checks her notes even though I know she knows his name, “this, Riley. Have you talked to him about your aversion to love?”
“No. Because this thing between us is fake.”
“Was this your idea or his?” She asks me with raised eyebrows.
“It was mine. Why does that make a difference?”
“Why don’t you tell me. There seems to be a lot ofquestions going back and forth between us. But have you told Riley your true aversion to love? Because despite the obvious reasons you two are tip-toeing around, whatever it is you're doing, he seems like he would be all in.”
“I don’t want to open myself up to love again, because that makes me too vulnerable. Opening up to love, means it would be so easy to get hurt again. And I don’t think I can do that.”
“Think or won’t?”
“Ugh.” I drop my head to the back of the couch and swallow hard. “Won’t.”
“Sarah,” she starts and sets her iPad on the table in front of her. “Courage and joy are two of the most vulnerable things you can be. And you are both of those everyday. In your job, with your friends. So why not love?”
“I have been loved with conditions too many times to count–” I stop talking when tears clog my throat. “I see the love my friends have with their significant others. I see the love my clients have for their sports. And it’s all free. It looks easy. In my experience, love was neither of those two things.”
“So you’re wondering when love will come without conditions?”
I nod my head. Too at a loss for words on what to say.
“You know what I think?” Lindsay asks rhetorically, but I shake my head and shrug my shoulders because I know she’ll tell me anyway. “I’m telling you this as a friend and not a therapist. I think that you’re so conditioned to thinking that love is connected to pain when in reality, it’s the most freeing intangible thing you’ll ever feel. You say you’re scared of being vulnerable, but this, coming to therapy is one of the most vulnerable things that anyone can do. Why not take that next step in admitting that somewhere alongthe way, Riley crawled over that twelve-foot brick wall you reinforced with steel and instead of him convincing you to deconstruct it, he’s helping you reinforce it with him inside? When will you realize that this thing between you two may no longer be fake?”
“He’s my client. I can’t even think about crossing that line.”
“Haven’t you already?”
She’s right. Without even knowing who Riley was last year, we already crossed a line. But we flat out swept it away when we got into this arrangement. Things with Riley may no longer be treading on the line of fake. But I have no clue if what we’re doing is considered real.
After my session I drove to Whole Foods to pick up wine and junk food. Well, whatever Whole Foods considers as junk food, and some ice cream. When I get home, I change into my loosest and comfiest clothes and camp-out on the couch. To punish myself, or treat myself, I pop onNo Reservationsand begin my self-imposed rot marathon.
18
RILEY
“Thanks, Mischa. I’ll see ya next week.” With a lift of my hand I stroll out of the studio and head to my car. The cold November air whips through the buildings and hits already bundled up patrons. Me included. I pick up my pace and basically jump into my car and start it up. Checking my phone I see no messages. Which is weird because Sarah and I are supposed to have a meeting in a few hours so I expected something from her.
Something has been off with her and I’m running through every scenario wondering if it’s something that I did. We have the next two days off from hockey so it makes my decision to head to her much easier. I pull out of the lot and speed home to get showered and on the road. I’m not sure what this visit will entail, so I pack an overnight bag just in case.
Me: Hey, would you mind coming over to feed the girls tonight?
Logan: No problem. Is everything okay?
Me: Thanks. And I have no clue.
I’m lucky that Logan lives a couple floors down from me, so I don’t have to worry about giving him an access code. And we both have spare keys to each other's places so that’s another worry off my plate. Once back in the garage, I toss my bag in the passenger seat of my Range Rover and decide to give Sarah a courtesy call. It goes right to voicemail and that sets off an alarm bell in my head.
