Page 40 of Fall to Me
Carter
Who is this man? Eager to eat, I don’t even check to see what kind of sandwich it is, I quickly unwrap it and scarf down a bite.The blended flavors are heaven in my mouth. Mmm. My god. What is this?
I’m on the verge of a foodgasm when I hear someone’s heels clicking down the hallway.
“Mrs. Graham.” Hannah giggles as she walks through my door.
Covering my mouth full of food, I roll my eyes and respond, “Stop calling me that. What’s up?”
“You wanted me to remind you of your appointment at three.”
“Shit!”
I wipe my mouth, wrap up my sandwich, and toss it into the bag, then grab my purse and dash out the door. I’m already by my car when Hannah calls out my name. I stop and spin around.
She jogs up to me and hands me the bag. “You forgot your food.”
I take it from her hands, thanking her as I hop into my car. The drive takes about thirty minutes with traffic, which gives me plenty of time to eat on the way.
I’ve always dreaded therapy days. And though my therapist has helped, the sessions are hard. But today’s different. For some reason, I’m excited to talk to her.
After checking in, I step into the small waiting room. It’s dim. The only light in the room comes from a lamp that rests on an end table next to the loveseat. Relaxing music streams in the background. On the other end table, in the corner, there’s a diffuser releasing eucalyptus oil into the air. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were at a spa. It’s a trick. A mask. As soon as you step outside of this room and into her office where you have to face your demons, that calm feeling immediately evaporates, and anxiety rears its ugly head.
Dr. Bailey opens her door and calls me in. I toss my book back into my purse and join her in her office, sitting down on the cliché sofa.
“How is River today?” she asks.
It’s the first thing she always asks.
“Good,” I respond.
A smile spreads across her face as she picks up her pen and begins writing. “So, last week I sent you with some homework. Have you given it any thought?”
I laugh under my breath. “I’ve given it too much thought, actually, but I can’t answer that question yet. My uh . . .” I stop to clear my throat. Of course, she knows about the situation with me and Carter. I mean, lying in therapy isn’t really gonna get me very far. “My husband encouraged me to train in self-defense.”
“Learning self-defense can be empowering for domestic abuse victims. And how’s that going?” She looks down, scribbling more. “Married life, that is,” she clarifies.
“It’s going.”
What am I supposed to tell her? That my husband is driving me all kinds of bat shit crazy? That I’m sexually frustrated? That Carter’s too nice? Then she’ll dissect that. She always questions: “Why?” and “How does that make you feel?” If she asks me one of those, then I’ll have to ask her if she’s ever seen my husband . . . because . . . hello? He’s hot as fuck. You pair his good looks with forehead kisses, sweet gestures, and ruthless mind fucking, and who wouldn’t need a bucket and a wet floor sign? Which brings me back to the question, how am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s not?
“How are you two getting along?” she asks, dragging me out of my thoughts.
Dr. Bailey tucks a strand of brown hair behind her ear and smiles, her blue eyes looking at me curiously. She’s alwayssmiling. How can you listen to people who’ve been through the shittiest circumstances and still smile like that?
“We’re getting along good.” I thread my bottom lip between my teeth. The same question plagues me over and over. “How am I to trust that I can see past a façade and discern someone’s true nature?”
The question is out of my mouth before I even realize.
Dr. Bailey rocks back in her chair as she studies me like I’m a puzzle to be solved. “That’s a good question. The simple answer is you already know the signs. Many people find themselves overlooking those signs and falling back into the same patterns over and over again. So, as long as you don’t do that, and you trust what your gut tells you, I think you’ll be okay. I assume you’re talking about your husband?”
I nod in response.
“Let me ask you this. How long have you known him?”
“A little over a year.”
“Okay. And in that time have you noticed any red flags? Love bombing, gaslighting, or manipulation?”
