Page 97 of Lost in the Current of You

“Do you still love him?”

“No.” My answer was so quick that she barely finished her sentence.

She hums before she starts scribbling something on the notepad on her lap. She knows how much I hate that.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she replies.

I roll my eyes. “You know what.” She knows exactly how to pull more out of me when she knows the subject is approachable. I sigh. “I don’t love him. But I think I’ll always have feelings for him. My anger, though, will always overshadow that. I don’t think I could ever forgive him.”

Callie softens. “You don’t have to forgive him. You don’t have to stop hating him. But most people will always feel a piece of them tethered to their first love. It’s their first experience of love outside of familial love. It’s exciting. It’s new. It’s experimental. Some things they learn not to do when it’s over, and some things they learn to carry over to their next relationship.”

I mull over her words as they sink deep beneath my skin and settle like a warm blanket over my heart.

When I moved to Melbourne six years ago, it was with a shattered heart I thought could never be mended. I cried myself to sleep for a month before Dad’s friend’s daughter, Ellie, pulled me out and forced me out of the house to show me the city. I slowly started to get into the rhythm of daily life and I started building a portfolio of my photographs around the city. But it didn’t heal the broken pieces of my heart. I started seeing Callie almost every week, and then eight months later, when it felt like the stitches I had stitched would hold, I slowed it down to every month.

But now this is my last face-to-face session with her for a while and I don’t know how I’m going to feel about that. I’ll still see her on our regular monthly schedule, however it’ll be through a screen for two of the months.

“I’m scared.” I swallow deeply as I lean back on the soft velvet couch and look up at the ceiling, trying hard to shove down the pinch I feel in my nose before I start crying. “I know there’s a low chance I will see him again during my stay, given his career. But I'm scared that I will and I won’t be ready for that encounter.”

“You said he’s an MLB player. Maybe he’ll be too busy travelling. The only connection to him you have is that one of his friends is dating yours, right? Don’t let fear hold you back from being happy and enjoying your time,” she smiles, leaning back in her chair. I thought she was done with her inspirational speech, but I was wrong when she shrugged. “And in that low chance that you see him, fake a smile. Don’t let him see how you really feel. Don’t let him see how he really affected you.”

The last bit makes me chuckle. “I’ll give that a try.”

Looking over at the clock, she sighs. “Looks like our time is up,”

Standing with her, I go over and hug her. “Thank you for today, I needed it.”

She squeezes me before letting go and smiling. “Of course. No problem is too small to see me about. Don’t forget that.”

It’s the first thing she told me when I sat on that couch for my first session. I was fiddling with my fingers, not knowing how to start. I mumbled, ‘I don’t know if I should even be here. My problems aren’t even that big’. And she stopped me, put some essential oils in the diffuser that sat on the coffee table beside me and told me to take a few deep breaths. Then she said ‘No problem is too small for therapy. We accept everyone’. I relaxed and she eased me into everything. It took three sessions before she asked what brought me here to see her. I appreciated the time she took to make me feel comfortable before deep diving.

“I’ll see you next month for our Zoom session. I expect to hear all the amazing wedding details.”

I beam. “Will do.”

Walking outside the building, I feel the tiniest bit lighter now that I have finally let go of that story. I take in the fresh air and the smell of oncoming rain. Being the middle of spring, rainy days have been a regular here in Melbourne and the chill was still wrapping around the city.

I haven’t gotten used to the city and how different it is from Brisbane, but I have made it my home. I didn’t mind how much colder it got, the dry air, or that it was a whole lot busier than back home.

However, I do sometimes miss it. But not too much. Because even though I have finally told the story I have been holding onto for six years, I still feel the tension in my shoulders. I have to move back tomorrow. I have to face the memories and familiarity of the town I had my heart broken. For three months, I will brace it for my dad because no matter how much sadness it will bring me to be there, it will never overshadow my happiness about my dad getting married again.

It’s only a short walk back to my apartment, and I thankfully got there before the sky decided to open up. Riding the elevator up to the fourth floor in silence, I unlock my door and am greeted by my roommate blaring music as he moves around the kitchen, making some concoction of alcoholic beverage like he usually does on a Friday night before he goes out.

As the door shuts behind me, he spins around, a wide grin splayed on his face as he holds up a bottle of vodka in one hand and whiskey in the other.

“There she is. Come on, it’s time to catch up.” He beckons me over.

I drop my handbag on the dining table in the space between the lounge and the kitchen on my way to him.

“I told you I didn’t want to make this a big deal. I won’t be gone for long,” I drawl, but take the drink he pushes in front of me. I take a big swig, grimacing at the awful mix he deems is the best way to get drunk fast. And, well, after today I need it, so I push back my disgust and down the whole drink in one big gulp. Daniel cheers me on as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Atta girl. Drink up. Gotta catch up somehow,” he slurs slightly. Looking at him from a closer distance, I can see the slight haze in his eyes from the alcohol consumption and his flushed cheeks. He is definitely buzzed. I’m not surprised that he made a head start.

“Where’s Ellie?” I ask, taking a seat on the bar stool at the kitchen island, sipping at the new drink Dan slid to me this time.

He checks his watch as he mumbles, “She should be walking through any time now.”

---