Page 24 of More Than a Friend
Ava’s pale cheeks turn an even deeper pink, and the color reminds me of the way her whole body flushes when she’s turned on.
Focus, Skylar.
“But what would you get out of it? It feels selfish of me to—to basicallyuseyou as a learning tool.” She locks her eyes on mine and says with so much sincerity, “The last thing I want to do is use you, Sky.”
Oh, this sweet, sweet woman.
“It’s not a hardship to give you pleasure, sweetheart. Nor is it a hardship to be on the receiving end of your eager little mouth. As for being used, I don’t feel that way. You’re not forcing me to offer, and I’m not doing it out of obligation. I want to do this. Let me help you, Ava. Please.”
Ava gulps down another mouthful of cold water, and I can tell she’s trying really hard to find a reason to say no.
But I see it—the desire in her eyes. I see she wants to give in and say yes.
Her curiosity must outweigh whatever doubts she has.
“Okay. You can help me. But I’m going to find a way to repay you for it. This is a huge thing, Sky, and I don’t want to lose you over it. I don’t want either of us to be hurt.”
“No one’s going to get hurt if we walk into this knowing what it is.”
I know it’s a lie as soon as it leaves my mouth.
This is a terrible idea. A slippery slope which will only lead to someone—probably me—being absolutely destroyed.
But my God, what a ride to destruction it will be.
Chapter 12
Ava
My therapist’soffice feels a lot like a grandma’s house. It’s not clinical or modern with clean lines like you’d expect.
For starters, the hardwood floors are covered by a retro rug like the carpet found in arcades. The neon geometric shapes are trippy but nostalgic, clashing with the rest of the décor.
My therapist, Rebecca, collects things. Not anything specific, but… everything. If she thinks it’s cool or pretty, she buys it and puts it on a shelf in the waiting area or in her office.
The chairs in the waiting area are thrifted and don’t match each other at all. My favorite is the burnt orange barrel chair that looks like it came straight from the 90s.
Rebecca calls me in and directs me to sit on the purple leather oversized armchair I usually occupy while she sits on the green velvet couch across from me.
Her office is much like the waiting room with mismatched decorations and random prints in a variety of frames. She has one stained glass lamp and another mushroom like one, and the rug is faux cheetah fur.
My therapist is just as eclectic as her office. She’s in her fifties, but it doesn’t stop her from wearing what she wants. Today she’s wearing hot pink palazzo pants with a zebra print long sleeved shirt. Her hair is cropped on the sides and spiky on top, dyed an icy blond.
I was really wary when I first started seeing her, but after a few sessions, I started to appreciate her “give no shit” attitude and outlook on life. She’s been a lifesaver as I discover who I am outside of the church and outside of my marriage.
“Ava, it’s so good to see you. How have you been? How are the kids? What’s new?” Rebecca asks with a bright smile.
I give her a rundown of how things are going, venting my frustrations about my ex-husband and how difficult it can be to co-parent. I tell her about Alisa and how worried I am about the kids getting attached and the potential the relationship won’t last.
I tell her I’m getting increasingly worried about Gus and Shea’s insistence on still taking them to church. Gus has been more reserved than normal but doesn’t want to talk to me about what’s bothering him.
“Well, his dad bringing a new woman into his life is probably a big deal. Maybe you could talk to his teacher and see if something has happened at school? If he still doesn’t want to talk, I can recommend some good child therapists around here. I know he was four when you got divorced, so it’s possible the feelings he had buried are now resurfacing with the addition of your ex’s new girlfriend,” Rebecca suggests.
She’s probably right. Of course, I realized the divorce would impact the kids, but I was hoping they were young enough it wouldn’t traumatize them too much.
Not setting more boundaries with Shea about his relationship with Alisa makes me feel like a terrible mom. I should have put my foot down about them meeting too soon.
“I know you well enough to know you’re probably beating yourself up over this situation,” Rebecca says. “But Ava, you can’t control Shea’s actions. You can’t control the way your kids respond to changes either. You’re a great mom, and this is just a bump in the road, but you’ll get through it, I promise.”
