Page 82 of Kiss and Tell
I pull out my phone and dial Natalie’s cell, hoping she’s somewhere in camp with a signal.
“What are you doing?” Jane asks, her tone mild. Cell phones are not permitted in our session because I’m supposed to be “present.”
“Taking your advice.”
“Hey, Tab.” Nat’s voice is cheerful as she answers, and I switch her to speaker.
“Hey, Nat. We’re on speaker in Jane’s office.”
“Hey, Jane!” she calls.
“Hey, Natalie.”
“Why am I on speaker, Tabitha?”
“I came to see Jane because my recovery plan isn’t working. I asked her to help me get over Sawyer so I can move forward with appropriate romantic relationships. She said I could spend thousands of dollars to get to the fix or I could ask you.”
“Told you she was a good therapist,” Natalie says.
“That is not my current feeling,” I grit out, getting more annoyed. “My current feeling is frustration that I can’t get over Sawyer, and I need to because I’m not giving up ten more years moping.”
“Right. Because you’re working on the wrong problem,” Natalie says.
Jane hides a smile.
“Tell me what you mean,” I order. “I’m tired of guessing.”
“You’re not supposed to get over Sawyer. He’s a healthy relationship for you. What you should be working on is whatever is making youresistSawyer. That’s the problem. Not him.”
I shoot a look at Jane. Jane taps her nose.
I scowl at her, then the phone. “I kind of hate you both.”
“Okay,” Natalie says, still cheerful. “But now it’s out there. You have the answer, approved by two very good relationship experts. Whether you want to or not, you’re going to think about it. And eventually you’ll figure it out. I just hope it doesn’t take you too long.”
“Why? Is Sawyer seeing someone?” I hear the sharpness in my tone, and Jane hides her mouth behind her hand.
“No,” says Natalie. “But I don’t think he has it in him to wait on you for another nine years, and I don’t want him to have to do that. I’d like you to pull yourself together. Soon. He’ll be back here for the Fourth of July. Doesn’t that sound like a nice deadline for figuring things out?”
“I don’t want a deadline,” I snap.
“And yet you work so well with them.”
“I’m hanging up on you.”
“Looooooove youuuuuuuu—”
I end the call and cut her off. She’s probably sitting in the main office right now, laughing at me.
“Do you want to add anything?” I glare at Jane.
She clears her throat. “No, she covered it. She’s an excellent clinician.”
I blink at her a few times. “So you’re saying—both of you—my problem isn’t that I need to get over my ex, but that I need to stop running from him?”
She nods.
I mull this for a while. I’m not sure how long. I sit on her couch and stare into the distance and imagine what it would be like to believe Sawyer. To believe there’s a way to make us work despite the obstacle of lives in different cities. And of past hurt. And the fact that at a crucial point in my life, I wasn’t good enough for him. Do I want to be considered good enough now just because I’ve “proven” myself with my success?
