Page 127 of Rather: The Therapist

She pointed between us.

“Do you understand what’s happening? Because, for the life of me, I can’t stop it. I don’t know that I want to either. We’ve blurred the lines. We’ve fucked up, royally. I don’t know about you, but for me–for me it’s not just sex anymore.”

She shook her head from side to side. I heard every word. I felt every word. So that she could hear me clearly, I conquered the space between us. When I was close enough, I adapted to her eye level. Not only did I want her to hear me, I wanted her to see, feel, and understand me.

“It was never just sex,” I confessed, “Not for me. It was always more. You were always more. Don’t insult this thing we have. No matter how complex it is. Don’t do that, Rather.”

“I crave you,” she admitted, closing her eyes and placing a hand on her chest, “Every waking hour of the day.”

“Even when I sleep,” I added, letting her know she wasn’t alone.

“I’ve been trying to consume you in small doses, so afraid I’ll overdose.”

Her truth was valid. It was mine as well.

“It’s not that easy, Rather.”

“I know.”

Her rounded shoulders and burdened gaze was tearing me apart inside.

“Join us at the lake house this weekend. Friday morning, be there.”

“Pri–”

“I don’t care. Whatever is about to come from those lips that doesn’t align with what I’ve just said or the way you’re feeling, then I don’t care. It’s not real. This is.”

I tapped my index finger on her chest.

She massaged her temple, trying to make sense of something that would never make sense. Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone. But, we were beyond that point. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but us.

“I jus– I need to see it through. I have to see it through. He’d give his life for me, one hundred times over. Just this one thi– thing. I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t.”

“We’ve blurred the lines. Our secrets have spilled out of the suite and into our personal lives.”

“The lines no longer exist. I’ve told you once, but I’ll say it again–the suite can’t contain us.”

She agreed silently.

“Friday, by noon. 11206 Lakeshore Drive.”

“Okay.” She sealed her lids as the response escaped her. Slowly, her chin lowered to her chest where it stayed until my voice brought her back to me.

“How are you feeling, Rose?”

At the sound of her given name, her eyes were on me again. She opened her mouth to speak but when nothing emerged, she closed it, again. Her lips pressed together.

The internal conflict she faced was written all over her face and her unsteady fingers. She drew small, repeated circles on her thigh. I stepped forward, taking her hand into mine.

“How are you feeling, Rose?”

She lifted her shoulders and then dropped them. “Parch.”

I’d known it with or without her confirmation. Her longing hadn’t gone unnoticed. It wasn’t water that would quench her thirst.

I pressed my palm against her cheek. She was open. She was ready. But, the roles had yet to be assumed. Rather had yet to conform.

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