Page 17 of Bittersweet Addiction

“Because she’s unavailable? It would be the perfect woman for you based on your commitment issues.”

“Excuse me? She’s very much available now.”

“I’m talking about when you first pursued her. Hear me out, before you fly off the handle. You and I have both decided, through your own self-diagnosis as well as my own that you have commitment issues, and you meet this woman that’s unavailable. Thereby she’s perfect because you don’t have to fully commit to her because—”

“But I am fully committed to her. And at the risk of sounding like a pussy, I now realize why I had those issues with other women. Because they weren’t Charley. Tuck, I know how this sounds. And if I were on the other side, I’d be saying all the same things. Urging me not to do this, to walk away. But I can’t now. I love her.”

“I just worry this is going to blow up in your face.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you now.”

“To prepare you for the fallout? You asked me how bad it would be if the board finds out? You’ll have to go before them and plead your case about why they shouldn’t take your license. They’re going to dissect and scrutinize every little thing that transpired down to what you wore the day you seduced her.” He sighs. “But can we put a pin in this for a moment? What are you doing about the fact that some of your patient’s privacy was violated? What are you thinking about that?” I roll my eyes at the common therapist vernacular.

“I think you know what I’m thinking. I owe it to my patients to tell them the truth.”

He leans back in his chair, and I’m irritated by the look he’s giving me. “Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Now we’re concerned about doing the right thing?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You were sleeping with your married patient for seven months, Will. You more or less broke up her marriage. Where was this moral compass then?”

“I know that what I did was wrong, but don’t judge me. And it certainly has nothing to do with the people who were betrayed on my watch.”

“You want to go to the board and explain to them what happened and somehow leave out Charley and her ex-husband? It’s not possible, Will. You cannot spin this story. There is no way.”

“So, you’re saying I don’t have the obligation to tell the board that a dozen of my patient’s had their privacy violated?”

“I say you have the obligation to keep yourself out of Charley’s pants.” He crosses his arms as he looks down at me over his glasses and I resist the urge to break them —while they’re still on his face.

“Okay, well, that’s no longer an option, so how about you give me some actual advice and stop with the judgmental bullshit. And for the record, you and I both know that her being a consenting, competent adult that has no plans to sue me for malpractice obviously, in addition to the fact that she will swear under oath that I didn’t force her to do anything will all work in my favor.

“Will, I’m not judging you. I’m being honest. As your mentor, your friend, your shrink, whatever you want to call me…This is not going to be easy. You can’t reveal this information and expect it to go away in a few weeks. If this gets out…this will follow you. I assume the board will want you to take some time away, but if and when you start practicing again, it will still be there. The skeleton in your closet that you’ll never be able to get rid of. You’ll probably be done for as a marriage counselor. What man would want to bring his wife around you?”

“I would be with Charley, and I wouldnevercheat on her.”

“They don’t know that! They’ll be thinking you collect wives like baseball cards and when the conquest is over you toss them aside to collect dust in the attic. Don’t you dare tell me you’re that naive. If at that point, you and Charley are married, they’ll suspect you as being a man that sees this as a game. ‘How many wives can I fuck, how many marriages can I end?’ Hell, maybe Charley will even be in on it. You’ll have a reputation. And given that no one will know the story of Charley and her ex-husband unless she writes some sort of tell-all book, the assumption will be that you, Dr. William Montgomery, used your power as their counselor to seduce a wife and break up a marriage.”

His words wash over me, and at this point I’m seething. “So, I’m done for.”

“Will, I just don’t see…” He trails off before he lets out a breath and closes the book in front of him where I know he’s taken a novel worth of notes, “how you can come out of this unscathed.”

“I don’t want this to touch Charley…I don’t want her to be affected by my mistakes.”

“I do believe she is half to blame.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Oh? You better have your story straight, Will, because if the board thinks even for a second that she’s not culpable in that you coerced her into this affair, then you have a completely different problem. You’re right, if you present this to them with all of the factors that you shared with me, it does change things. According to the AMA, the board judges cases of sexual misconduct involving a consenting adult on a case by case basis. So, it’s a very real possibility, that there will only be minor consequences in that regard. But they’re going to want to talk to Charley and evaluate her level of consent for themselves. So, if you make it seem like you were a slave to your hormones and she was just this innocent woman going along with your advances it won’t work out well for you. If you want to paint Charley as—what? the victim—in all of this? Be my guest, it’s not my career.”

His voice softens and I think he regrets his choice of words. “I get that you don’t want it to come across that she’s some bored housewife, or a gold digger or any of the things you think could be said, but you have to stop focusing on what the perception of you and her will be separately and focus on what the perception is of youtogetheras a couple.” He sighs rubbing a hand through his hair and scratching his beard. “Will, let me asking you something. Have you…had anything to drink recently?”

My heart rate spikes hearing his question, and I remember that twelve month chip tucked into my sock drawer at home.

“Mitch, nothing is going on.”

---