Page 53 of Rectify

“Okay, let's try something else.” She hands me a paper similar to the one I filled out on my first day here. Hendrix’s name sprawled across the top. “You listed Hendrix twice. Him as a person, and your relationship with him as one of the biggest impacts on your life.”

“Yeah.”

“Hendrix is with someone else now, right?” I wait for the usual sting, but it doesn’t come. “Did he have the option to choose a life with you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he?”

I shake my head.

“Why not?” she probes.

“Because it wasn't what he wanted.” I remember what he told me, and reiterate it to Claire. “He wasn’t in love with me, and truth be told I think we fell out of love with one another a long time before we realised it. We romanticised it past its expiry date.”

“He wanted to be happy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it mean he didn't care about you?”

“No.”

She makes an alarm sound, like I’ve just hit the jackpot, and I can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. Her investment in every session, is the reason I love coming back.

“I know there's more to this thing with Hendrix than what we’ve touched on, but if we could break it down. One thing at a time, like this. It will be easier for you to process and make rational non-reactionary decisions.”

“Do you think Jay is a reactionary decision?” I ask, my insecurity rearing its ugly head.

“What I think doesn’t matter.” Her mouth pulls in a sympathetic smile, as she avoids the question. “But if I’m going to bend the rules even just a little, you should know it doesn’t matter what your reasons are for Jay. I think it’s worth trying it out.”

* * *

After Jay’s confession about Lily’s mum, I messaged him and asked if he wanted to come over for dinner. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but I wanted to give him the opportunity to talk freely and comfortably if he wanted to.

Seeing that Wednesday is dinner at Jagger’s house, and he and I are somewhat in a better place, we’re expected to go. I had to take a few steps back in my progress, and lie about a work function.

After confirming he had no food aversions, I proceeded to agonise with Holly over what to cook. Deciding on Chicken Alfredo, I rush around the grocery store picking up ingredients, before stopping at my favourite patisserie and grabbing a surprise for dessert.

No matter how many times I say to myself this isn’t a date. It feels like one. I’m picking out nice underwear for myself, I’m wearing more than leggings and a tank, and I cooked for someone who wasn’t Dakota, my mum, or Holly.

I don’t want to feel giddy about him coming over, but I’ve lost all self control, addicted to the excitement and butterflies.

At seven o’clock the doorbell rings and I’m overwhelmed by how flustered getting ready has made me feel. I only have my feelings for Hendrix to compare this to, and there was so much anger and hostility attached to us, that this feels like a whole different ball game.

I count to three and take a deep breath, before opening the door. He’s standing there, rocking a pair of wheat coloured Timberlands, ripped jeans, and a plain royal blue t-shirt, that accentuates the sinewy muscles in his arms.

He looks like the type of man you'd find in a magazine. Gracing the cover with his effortlessly rugged features. If I wasn’t riddled with nerves, I would bypass dinner and lose myself in him.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting my ogling.

I dart my eyes to his, and he gives me a knowing smile. “Hey.”

“I didn't know what we were having for dinner, so I bought one of each.”

He hands me a bag with both a red and white bottle of wine, and I smile at him graciously. “You didn't have to bring these. Thank you.”

“You're cooking dinner, it's only fair.”

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