Page 125 of Harrison's Wedding

“I want Heather back, and I need to get better before that can happen,” I tell him.

“Okay. I have an appointment available on Monday. How about you come and see me and we can talk.”

* * *

“I washappy to hear from you on Saturday night,” Brendan says as I take a seat on his sofa on Monday afternoon.

It’s strange being here without Heather. I miss her presence on the sofa next to me.

“Thanks, I guess,” I say awkwardly.

“So, on the phone, you said you need to ‘get better,’ in what way do you think you need to get better?”

“Heather was right. I’m drinking a lot lately. I’ve never really been a big drinker, so it’s a big increase in alcohol intake.”

“Why do you feel the need to drink?” Brendan asks.

I cringe as I think about the reasons why. “I guess because reality is so difficult. When I drink, I can forget the world. The awful questions the paparazzi ask me aren’t as bad to deal with when I drink. The judgment that everyone gives me isn’t as bad, either, but…”

I trail off as an awful realization comes to me. It’s the reason I’ve been drinking, more than anything else.

“I think the real reason is because I hate myself for what I did, and when I drink, the memories aren’t as clear.”

I break into tears, and Brendan hands me a box of tissues. I pull one out and cry into it. My cries turn to sobs because this is the first time I’ve voiced out loud that I can remember that night, and I grab two more tissues.

When my tears have eased off, Brendan asks quietly, “What do you remember, Harrison?”

“Everything,” I whisper.

“I see. That must be quite difficult. What you went through was a very traumatic experience, and trauma presents in different ways for every person. How do you feel when these memories arise?”

“Sick,” I tell him and cringe as I do. “It makes me feel sick every time. Sometimes I vomit or retch. Other times, it’s just nausea.”

On cue, memories of Maddy in bed with me come to my mind, and I flinch physically against the nausea that comes with them.

Brendan writes something down on a pad in front of him and says, “It’s understandable that you would want to avoid those memories. Drinking is not a healthy coping mechanism for that, however. What do you think you could do instead?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t want to drink, but it takes the pain away, and I don’t know what else can do that.”

“What do you think the source of your pain is?” Brendan tilts his head to the side as he looks at me to ask this.

I consider the question. I know the night that caused everything, but is that alone the source of my pain? Being without Heather is painful, but what hurts the most?

“I can’t forgive myself for what I did. I cheated on Heather, and Maddy couldn’t consent, so on some level, I feel like I raped her,” I admit in a rush.

Voicing aloud the thoughts that have been tormenting me for months is both a relief and terrifying at the same time.

“Okay, let’s talk about that. You say that Maddy couldn’t consent; why is that?”

I goggle at him because he’s a therapist, so he should know the answer to this.

“Because she was drugged against her will. She never consented to take the drugs, and once she was high, she couldn’t consent to having sex with me.”

“That’s correct. So, that being the case, do you believe that you could consent to sex in those same circumstances?”

I shrug my shoulders. “No, of course not.”

“So, why don’t you feel as though Maddy raped you?” he asks me.

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