Page 147 of Chosen Road

Pushing my chest to the bed, he wrapped his fist around my hip and relentlessly drove inside me before succumbing to the pleasure himself, his big body curving over mine, his seed spurting deep inside me.

He kissed the length of my spine, tucked a soft cloth between my thighs, pulled me against his chest, and fell asleep.

Chapter 49: Ready

Amber

As fate would have it, Monday morning I had an appointment with my therapist.

Laura came out to the waiting room when it was my turn and I followed her into her office in a state of nervous anticipation.

Instead of taking my usual seat, curled up in the corner of the couch, I planted my ass in the centre seat and carefully placed my journal, my pen, and my notebook, on the coffee table in front of me.

Laura took her usual chair which sat directly in front of me. She raised her eyebrows in tentative expectation.

I looked her dead in the eye. “I’m ready.”

Her smile bloomed. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Over the next hour, I told her about the two years from the time my dad got sick the second time to the day in Walmart with Pappou. Cleansing tears poured from my soul. The sheer number of Kleenex Laura went through as I told my story validated me in ways words never could.

Near the end of the hour, she checked her watch. “My next appointment canceled. Do you want to work through?”

I expected to be tired, but instead my body buzzed with adrenalin. I rolled my shoulders, feeling like I was shedding an enormous weight I hadn’t even realized I’d been carrying. “I want to keep going.”

I told her about my young patients, my director, and the guilt surrounding my job. I told her about Gus, my suspicions about his assistant, and how I gave him less and less time until I pushed him out of my daily life altogether. I told her about his heart attack, his transgression, the hellish year apart, and our reunion, as well as the return of his memory.

I told her how he was on his way home to me when it happened, and because of his memory loss and my issues, the road home ended up being a lot longer than either of us wanted, but perhaps turned out to be exactly what we needed.

I told her about George.

And what I wanted to be able to give him, and others like him.

Not only that, but I also wanted to break free from the thinking that tangled me up in knots, the thinking that made life difficult for Gus.

“What about for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What about how difficult your thinking makes life for you?”

“That, too.”

“That, first,” she corrected. “You deserve to be whole and mentally healthy. If you didn’t have Gus, if you didn’t have Alex, George, your sister, your job, you would still deserve to shed the thinking that hurts you.”

“I guess,” I agreed.

“What about your young patients? George?”

“What about them?”

“Do they deserve to change their thinking? Or do they only deserve mental health if their health benefits others?”

“Ah. I see what you mean,” I replied thoughtfully.

“You have a different set of standards for yourself than you do for others. This is common. Often, it’s helpful to project your situation onto someone else to get a view unobstructed by the effects of your abandonment.”

“That makes sense. I’m just going to write that down.” I grabbed my notebook and jotted down what she said. Different rules for myself. Like I’m less than, less worthy than, everyone else.

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