Page 15 of Ask Me Something

The tears pricked my eyes, and I swallowed hard. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”

My parents hadn’t judged, but I’d known it had hurt them that I’d been hell-bent to leave this town at eighteen and had never looked back except for the occasional visit. They’d lovingly raised me. But even they hadn’t been prepared for the true circumstances of my adoption and birth to come out the way it had. My therapist called that revelation the traumatic trigger that had started my anxiety attacks. I called it the worst day of my life.

“Here, you can chop apples for the pie. Tell me about work. What’s new there?”

I knew she didn’t care much about the world of advertising, but I did share a couple of pieces. Then I switched to Haylee’s upcoming wedding details as I knew this was a subject my mom enjoyed.

“You’re leaving for the wedding from here?”

“Yes. I’m driving over to Charlotte the morning of the twenty-ninth and taking the plane down with some others.” A buzz of anticipation hit me about seeing Brian again. He’d be taking the same plane.

“I’m thankful you’ll be home for a few days at least. The kids will be happy to see you, too.”

I gave my mom a smile, trying not to feel guilty over the fact that it would be the longest few days of my life. There was nothing she could do about the fact that I had anxiety while being home. It was a part of my past I’d learned to reconcile. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I miss you and Dad.”

“We miss you, too, but you know we’re not here to make you feel bad about coming home. You’ve got your own life and we understand that.”

I appreciated the fact that my parents had never put that kind of pressure on me.

“Now, then, after you finish chopping apples, why don’t you go with your father into town? He’s gonna pick up some pizza for tonight and lunch on the way home. I’ll finish up in here. I only have the one more pie, and then I think we’re set. We’ll see your sister and family tonight at church, then they’ll be over tomorrow afternoon, giving them time to be in their PJ’s in the morning for Santa.”

I finished up my task and made my break for it to accompany my father for the pizza pickup duty. It would give me a chance to go by the store and get some good bottles of wine. I loved my family, but alcohol wouldn’t be their top priority for tomorrow’s menu. I’d need a few glasses to get through the day with my sister.

* * *

After lunch with my folks,I drove to a commercial business park on the outskirts of town and took a deep breath upon parking in front of the familiar office. Not even my family knew that I continued to see Dr. Marcia Evans when I was home.

Even though it had been months since my last visit, my therapist smiled warmly like we’d seen one another only days ago. The older woman had always reminded me of Blanche from the Golden Girls. She was sassy, Southern, and didn’t mince words. I’d been seeing her since I was sixteen years old, so to say she knew me almost my whole life wasn’t an exaggeration.

Her office hadn’t changed much. Maybe some new furniture over the years, but the familiarity of things like her framed pictures on the walls and flower-printed curtains set me at ease. Being a clinical psychologist specializing in anxiety, you couldn’t go about remodeling your office without throwing your patients into complete chaos, I imagined. The thought made me smile.

“Sasha, you look lovelier every time I see you. When did you get in?” she greeted.

“This morning. Thanks for agreeing to see me on Christmas Eve, Dr. Evans.”

She looked at me thoughtfully. “You know I always have time for you. And although I’d miss seeing you, you do know that I wouldn’t be offended if you were to find someone to talk to in New York.”

It wouldn’t be a session with Dr. Evans without her suggesting in a subtle way that she’d like me to see someone more often then maybe twice a year. “I know and appreciate it.” I acknowledged her suggestion as I did every time.

“How was your anxiety level this time coming home for the holidays?”

Huh. It dawned on me that I’d been so preoccupied with Brian and what had transpired last night that I hadn’t experienced the apprehension I normally did when traveling home. “I, uh, it was better this time.”

Dr. Evans had the super power of knowing when I was holding something back and immediately arched a brow. She sat back with her interest obviously piqued. “What was different this year?”

I was hesitant to make Brian part of this session. She’d heard about him a little over the years as someone who I’d confided in about my social discomfort, but that was about it. “I went out of my comfort zone last night by accompanying a friend to a speed dating night. I can’t say that I’d ever do it again or particularly enjoyed it, but it definitely tested my boundaries.”

“That’s good. But given that getting off the plane to drive home has always been a trigger point for your anxiety, I’d like to know what was on your mind instead of the usual in those moments.”

There wasn’t a non-awkward way of saying ‘sex toys’ to anyone. I felt my face heating just thinking about it.

She put down her pen and regarded me thoughtfully. “I’m not here to judge or criticize your choices. However, if something in your life is impacting your anxiety levels, either positively or negatively, then it’s important that you tell me.”

“Okay, here goes.” I filled her in on some details about the prior night with Brian, including the text message, Jamie subsequently showing up, and finally him coming by my place.

“So did you two—?” she hedged.

I shook my head and smiled at her look of surprise. “To be honest, I would have, but he was adamant that it be a conscious decision instead of a reaction. Then he started talking about boundaries.” I replayed some of our conversation with the exception of him wanting to be dominant. There were some things I’d rather keep personal.

---