Page 30 of Physical Therapy

FIFTEEN

Boe

She didn’t bring an overnight bag.

I stare at the bathroom door while the splatter of water on the other side indicates Edith’s still in the shower. Clearly, she didn’t plan to stay. But then why would she agree to a shower if she could simply go home and do it there? Does she want to stay? I want her to stay.

Fuck.

My hands still smell like her as I drag them over my face and push upward again, smashing my lips and nose in the process. I’d punch myself if I thought that had a chance of breaking me out of this stupor.

The water shuts off, the pad of her feet on the floor following. I take a step back, and another, before turning heel and heading toward the living area. She enters the room shortly after I’ve arranged myself on the sofa as though I was there the entire time, her coat once again hiding what lies beneath.

“Thank you for the freshen up. I feel so much better.” She rolls her eyes as though to accentuate the point.

I gesture for her to sit. “You’re welcome.”

Edith settles on the armchair, hands clasped in her lap while she perches at the front of the seat. It feels as though she’s waiting for me to answer a question in one of our sessions. She’s clearly uncomfortable and the only way she knows how to deal with that is to revert into therapist mode.

“Can we get something straight?” I slouch into the sofa, hand to my chin as I study her. “This has moved beyond house calls, right?”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Us,” I say. “Our relationship is personal now, isn’t it?”

Her throat bobs, those slender fingers of hers tightening around each other. “I suppose so.”

“I mean”—I throw my arms out wide over the back of the seat—“no therapist in their right mind would engage in a sexual act with a client during a session.”

Edith turns her head, staring blankly at the floor.

“Right?”

“Yeah.” Her head whips around as she snaps out of her daze. “Of course not.”

“So what’s the problem?” I lean forward, elbows to my knees. “You look like you’ve just realized you made a massive fucking mistake.”

Her eyes harden, those bronze depths turning deep chocolate. “Perhaps I have.” Edith rises from the chair. “Now would be a good time to leave, I think.”

I match her, blocking her exit. “I don’t.”

“Boe. Please.”

“You came here in your fucking lingerie,” I argue, “covered by a goddamn overcoat. You had plenty of time to think this through. It’s not as though you bent down to pick up your pencil and I hitched your skirt up while you were on your fucking knees, is it?”

“Could you be any more repulsive?”

“Baby.” I huff out my nose. “If you were repulsed by me, you wouldn’t have fucked me.”

She lifts a hand to slap me. I catch her by the wrist.

The argument is forgotten. For the briefest second it’s simply her and me, our gaze connected. Fuck her questions—all she had to do to take a peek inside my soul was look into my eyes.

“Admit it,” I whisper. “We’re not discovering new things about me anymore are we?”

She falters; her lips part but not a single word comes out.

“We’re learning all about you, Edith. All about what you want.”

---