Page 26 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
“Can you tell me to break up with Digby.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that isn’t my place and telling my patients to break off relationships would be highly unprofessional. I can, however, ask why you want to break up with Digby.”
“I don’t like his car.”
He sighs. “We’ve spoken about this.”
“But it’s so ugly,” I tell him, staring out of the window.
“This isn’t about his car, is it?”
“No.” I can feel myself snapping, the thoughts slipping out of my tightly closed fist. “This is about me being so fucking alone—this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt and all I want is to have Arthur back but once I tell him about The Nightmare he won’t want me anymore. And I haven’t told Digby about it because I don’t plan on marrying him like I do with Arthur. Telling him would be as pointless as telling him tomorrow’s weather forecast. He wouldn’t care.”
“Alright, calm down a second, Phoebe—take a deep breath.”
I smoke the last of my cigarette, stub it out on the windowsill and drop the butt onto the window ledge. My stomach curdles with the familiar sickness I’ve been experiencing for the last few years—one that won’t come up but just sits there, festering, brewing.
“What about telling Freddy about it?”
“She moved to L.A with her boyfriend, remember?”
He frowns. “You don’t call or text?”
“She’s too busy.”
Dr. Kane nods slowly, carefully almost. “Okay.”
“What did she tell you in therapy?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
I know the jist of it—that thing that happened when I was too young to take notice but she wasn’t so it kind of affected her a bit. I think my parents only put her in therapy so she didn’t go blabbing to her friends in school about it. No one knows it happened. They think it’s just rumours—so did I for a long time actually because it’s the sort of thing that makes you feel all hollow inside and you don’t want to think about the prospect of it maybe being true.
Think about what he said about me putting Arthur on a pedestal. When you shove a human into a tiny box of thembeing a really good person, they almost always turn out to be a really horrible person and it just hurts so much more than you already thinking they were a bad person. I see it often with celebrities. Fans regard them in such a high manor, completely disregarding the fact that they’re living breathing beings just as they are. So when they find out who they voted for, they’re utterly heartbroken—which to me, is so fucking stupid. Not a single person on this planet is an entirely good person.
I had Arthur on a pedestal for many years but then I became too aware that I did so now I’ve twisted him up and stuck a ‘bad person’ label on him just so I’m not disappointed. I don’t know what he’s going to be like now. I haven’t sat down with this version of him since I was about ten but I hoped he still drank diabetic tea and enjoyed drawing butterflies and telling me the most pointless facts about them. I hoped he still wore that chain around his neck—maybe even added that crucifix pendant back on it. I hoped he still liked his favourite songs and watched his favourite films and read his favourite books.
“Phoebe?”
I blink, rub my eyes.
“Do you want to be done for today?”
“Sure.” My voice comes out rough.
I pop my coat on and grab my bag for the sofa.
“Remember,” he walks over to the door. “Call or text me anytime you like.”
I nod, smile, turn to face him. “Maybe me and you could go on a date.”
Dr.Kane pulls back, laughs a bit. “That’s entirely inappropriate.”
“Yeah, but,” I wobble my head. “You’re stable, I’m not—it would work.”
