Page 22 of Canadian Boyfriend

Aurora:Hi. One of the headlights burned out in your car today, so I took it to your mechanic. Just wanted you to know. All sorted, but I feel like an idiot that I have incurred a car-related expense on day one.

I smiled at the way she was calling it my car when I had been behind its wheel for all of the fifteen minutes it had taken to deliver it from the dealership to her building.

Had I bought a car for Aurora Evans? Yes I had.

Had I lied about the whole thing to make her think I was lending her a car I already owned? Yes I had. I saw it as an investment in setting Olivia and me up for success. I would have paid any amount for that, so a two-year-old Hyundai Elantra was nothing. (Had I bought a Hyundai Elantra because it had a Top Safety Pick+ rating from the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety? Had I bought atwo-year-oldElantra because I thought Aurora would be skeptical if I gave her a brand-new one? Yes and yes.)

Mike:No problem. These things happen. You used the card I gave you, right?

After some arguing, Aurora had agreed to accept a credit card to use for gas and Olivia-related expenses. I’d encouraged them to keep up the ice-cream tradition, for example.

Aurora:I didn’t. I haven’t even had the car for a week!

Mike:But that’s what it’s for!

Aurora:I know. I should have used the card. I will next time.

I would reimburse her but decided to let it drop for now.

Mike:Hey, can I ask you a favor? Can you text me tomorrow night after Lauren gets Olivia? Let me know how Olivia seemed to you? I know I’m being paranoid…

Aurora:Not paranoid. It’s a big change for you guys. Of course I’ll text.

When we got to the hotel room, I sat down for a remote session with Dr. Mursal. She and I had agreed to keep to our schedule as much as possible while I was on the road.

“Hi, Mike. How’s it going?”

“I should just quit.”

“Let’s talk about this again.”

I smiled at that “again.” That was classic Dr. Mursal.This is a settled question, you fool, but sure, let’s rehash it; and by theway, I cost two hundred bucks an hour.She would never say it that way, but I appreciated the subtext. She was supposed to be Olivia’s therapist—and she was—but having sat in on their first few sessions and determined that I liked Dr. Mursal better than the dude I was supposed to be seeing, I’d asked her to take me on, too. She didn’t usually see adults in her current practice, but, as I pointed out from my research into her background, she was qualified to do so. If I’d had an image, before all this, of what psychologists were like, I would have said they had plants in their offices and spent a lot of time saying,Hmm, let’s explore that.Dr. Mursal had snacks in her office, asked me specific questions, gave me bits of actionable homework—ask someone besides Lauren and Ivan for help, for example—and sometimes directlytoldme shit I did not want to hear.

Also, she didn’t give a crap about hockey. I once asked her why, and she said, “I’m from Somalia.” When I’d looked at her like,So?she’d added, “It’s hot there.” And when I’d pointed out that I used to play for Tampa, she’d said, “It’s hot,andmy main focus at the time was not dying in the war.” So I’d said, “Touché,” and enjoyed the fact that I was just another guy to her.

“My sense,” she said, leaning forward and examining me through the camera, “is that you’re feeling some emotions associated with your first trip, and that instead of dealing with them, you’re jumping to the idea of quitting.”

“It would be so much easier. I don’t need the money.”

“Butwouldit be easier?” she pressed. “Logistically, perhaps, but would it be emotionally easier?”

“Probably for Olivia.”

“We’re talking about you now. We’ve established that you have a deep, profound love for what you do, that hockey is more than a job. We’ve established that your team is yourcommunity. We’ve established that it’s time for you to start moving on from questions you can’t answer.”

“Well, I think I’ve answered the big question.”

“You haven’t. You can’t answer it without a time machine. You can’t answer it without Sarah. Therefore, it is unanswerable, and you have to find a way to be OK with that.”

“Ihaveanswered it, though.” I was a big fan of Dr. Mursal, but she and I did not see eye to eye on this topic. “Sarah was lying to me.”

“It may not be so cut-and-dried.”

“How is it not cut-and-dried? I thought we were trying for kids. I thought we were on the same page.” That Montreal trip had been timed—pointlessly—for when Sarah was ovulating. Which Dr. Mursal knew. “Why are you always taking her side?”

“I’m not taking her side. There are no sides.” She paused. “But if thereweresides, you know I’d be on yours.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m the one paying you, right?” I was trying to make her laugh, but it didn’t work. Dr. Mursal wasn’t humorless, but she kept our sessions focused.

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