Authors: Jessica Gadziala
Buried,
I let it out.
And
I mean... let it out.
Loud,
ugly sobs, making my body shake and my breath hitch. I buried my face
in my hands, rocking my body for comfort. But there was no comfort.
Not
only was I unable to have a normal sex life. No. On top of that, I
was fucking head over heels for my god damn doctor. A man who didn't
return my feelings. A man I was hellbent on never seeing again. A man
who held the only piece of comfort I had in the whole world and
would
just continue living, letting other women rest their heads on my
spot, offering them what should belong to me. But never would. And it
never had. Not really.
Shay
came in a while later, when the sobs subsided, the tears still
streaming ruthlessly, and offered me tissues and a cup of tea. I took
the tissues and let the tea become cold on my nightstand.
I
didn't sleep. I stayed up, staring at the wall, letting the misery
bury into my marrow.
“I
don't think that's a good idea,” I heard Jake's distinct voice
say.
Then
there was mumbling.
“Jake,
I dunno,” Shay's voice said, sounding like she was trying to
reason with him. “You haven't seen her. She's like... bad.
Maybe it will help.”
“Or
it could make it worse.”
More
mumbling.
I
stopped listening, sniffling hard as a new round of tears started. My
cheeks felt raw from them, my eyes swollen and painful.
My
bedroom door opened and footsteps came forward.
Not
Shay. She walked quieter.
Jake
then.
Come
one, come all... look at the pathetic mess that is Ava Davis.
“Baby...”
No.
No,
please. Anyone else. Literally anyone else but him.
No
wonder Jake was arguing with Shay about it.
I
brought my legs further up into my chest, burying my face in the
sleeves of my sweatshirt.
“Sweetheart,”
he crooned, grabbing my arms and prying them from my face, “don't
hide from me.” I kept my eyes downcast, too embarrassed by the
tear-stained mess I was. “Why did you run?”
But
I wasn't talking. I couldn't. Like all the other times I couldn't.
Like I was mute. There was no use trying. The words would just get
stuck in my throat.
Besides,
what could I even say?
“You
can't talk to me right now?” he asked, his hand reaching out to
rub some of the tears off my cheeks, only to be replaced by new ones.
I felt my head shaking slightly. “Okay. That's okay,” he
said, infuriatingly patient. “I want to be here for you. Can I
be here?”
No.
I
needed to stay away from him. I needed distance. I needed to not rely
on him. I needed to stop having flip-flopping in my belly when he
talked so sweet to me. It just all needed to stop.
“I
don't feel comfortable leaving you if you can't even answer me,”
he said, his voice sounding very professional. “So I am going
to stay right here, okay?” he said, lowering himself onto the
ground beside my bed. “If you need me, I'm right here. If you
don't, I'm here anyway.”
His
hand fell from my face and I curled back up, hiding.
Eventually,
sleep came.
I
woke up later, my eyes half swollen shut, my face stinging. But not
as bad as my heart. I looked down to see Chase still there like he
promised, sitting on the floor, watching me like I might explode.
“Hey,”
he said, softly, like a small animal that might dart.
And
then I was reaching for him, grabbing him, pulling him toward me. He
stood up, kicking out of his shoes and climbing into the space beside
me. “Come on,” he said, putting an arm out, “come
rest on your spot.”
Then
the tears came again even as I moved to lay on his chest. His arms
went hesitantly around me.
“I
didn't know something was wrong,” he murmured, mostly to
himself. “I would have helped you. You seemed fine. Happy even.
I knew you were in there too long. I should have guessed something
was up.”
I
wanted to tell him it was okay. I wanted to ease some of the tension
I heard in his voice. But I couldn't even comfort myself, how could I
ever comfort him?
His
arms tightened more. “I'm proud of you for using the safe word.
I know that wasn't easy for you. Especially when you were so upset. I
wish you would have stayed. I wish you would have talked to me about
it. And not let yourself go to this place.”
I
was okay with that place.
That
place felt real.
No
more trying to pretend I wasn't in love with him.
Or
in fake love with him.
Whatever
it was.
No
more forcing myself to experience things that I, by nature, didn't
seem inclined to do.
Just
no more faking it.
I
was a mess. Case closed.
The
door creaked open, sending light from the living room in. Shay walked
up to the bed, sitting down on the foot, reaching out to rest a hand
on my leg over the covers. “Is she gonna be alright? I've seen
her panic before, but this is different.”
“She'll
be okay,” he said in a tone that didn't sound entirely
convincing.
“What
happened?”
“Honestly?”
he said, sounding tired. “I don't know.”
“Did
you guys...”
“Yeah,
but she was fine. I swear, Shay. I was paying attention. In my
professional opinion, she was handling it really well.”
Professional
opinion.
Ouch.
Like,
really, ouch.
I
shrank away from him, moving away from a place that didn't quite feel
so safe anymore, and turned from him, curling up to face the other
wall.
“I
guess she didn't like something you said,” Shay said, standing.
“Yeah,”
he said, tired. He sounded as tired as I felt. “But, fuck if I
know what it was.”
“Figure
it out,” she said, sounding so stern I almost wanted to smile.
“I mean it, doc. Fix her. I want her back to how she was
before. She was doing so good. Going out, being more open with me and
Jake...”
“I
know.”
“How
many more sessions are you supposed to have?”
“Four.”
“What
are they?”
“More...
intimacy. For... two more sessions. Then on the ninth session, I take
her out.”
“For
what?”
“To
teach her how to handle herself around men. Flirt with them. Shut
them down if she doesn't want them. Prepare her for her new life
after therapy is over.”
“And
the last?”
“Patient's
choice. We can do recaps of everything. We can try a fetish if
there's one she is interested in. Threesomes. Or even just some talk
therapy.”
“Pretty
sure she ain't into threesomes.”
“I
know. Honestly, I hate those sessions anyway.”
“Too
much work, huh?” Shay asked and I could hear a smile in her
voice.
“I
think the only men who want them are men who have no idea what they
are getting into.”
That's
right. Just have talk about all your other sexual conquests while I
am lying right there. I was just dying little by little. No big deal.
“Well,”
Shay said, sounding further away, like she was going back to the
door, “like I said... fix her. She's the best.”
“I
know.”
Luckily,
Chase didn't reach for me again. I got to cry in semi-privacy, then
pass back out.
I
woke up when the sun was streaming in the windows, bright on Chase's
face. He was fast asleep.
I
crept out of the bed, tip-toeing my way toward the door and going to
take a shower. I felt more human. Especially under the hot water.
I
was still broken. My edges felt sharp, like if someone touched me
they would come back bloody. But I was all cried out. There were no
more tears. I had used them all up.
And
it still hurt. A sharp sensation that seemed to worsen if I focused
on it. So I didn't.
But
I would be okay.
I
wiped the condensation off the mirror, looking at my puffy eyes.
“You'll be okay,” I said to my reflection, willing myself
to put my faith to rest in it.
I
was going to move on.
I
was going to get over it.
Take
my feelings for Chase and lock them in a vault somewhere deep inside,
to be dealt with at a later time.
Because,
well, I wasn't a quitter.
And
I wasn't quitting.
I
was going to go back to Chase's office. And I was going to learn
everything I could learn from him. I would have more sex. I would
learn about flirting. I would take whatever he could give me.
Then
I would - Move. The. Fuck. On.
That
was the plan.
But
first- damage control.
I
slipped into jeans and a black long-sleeve t-shirt, pulled my hair
back into a ponytail, and went out into the living room.
Shay
was still there and I had a moment of pure panic at the idea that I
hadn't called out of work. And she was there too. That left the
office so short...
“I
said we both got the stomach flu from some bad take-out,” Shay
supplied, somehow
knowing
where my head was. “You aight?”
But
then a motion to the side caught my attention. I turned my head to
see Chase standing in my doorway, wrinkled, exhausted looking. How
long had he stayed up after I passed out?
“Ava...”
he said, the same concern clear in his voice.
I
turned back to Shay, who nodded at me, then walked toward him,
waiting for him to step aside so I could step in and close the door.
I
took a deep breath, staring at my bed for a minute. Trying to get up
the nerve. Then I turned back to him, raising my chin a little. “I'm
sorry.”
“Ava,
you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, shaking his head.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I...
had a panic attack.” That was true enough. “After. Which
was different and I just... didn't handle it well.”
“Okay.
Why didn't you tell me?”
Because
you're the one who caused it.
“I
just... needed some space.” Also true.
“Alright.
I understand. I wish you would have felt comfortable enough to share
that with me though. So we could work it out together.”
He
didn't meant together together. Not that way.
Squash
that thrill of hope.
“I'll
try harder next time. It just kind of... snuck up on me. I was zero
to ten in like two minutes.”
He
nodded stepping closer, his arm raising like he was about to touch
me. Which I couldn't let happen. I skirted past him, going back
toward the door.
“I
think Shay is making breakfast,” I said, switching topics and
his brows drew together. “You are welcome to stay.”
“Oh,
um... I have to go home and change. I have a client at ten.”
“Okay,”
I said, taking a deep breath. I was doing well. And he was almost
gone. “What time is our next session?”