Page 82 of I Shouldn't Feel This Way

My snickering finally died down and I managed to pull it together before I looked up at him to confess my sins. “You haven’t offended me.” I was trying so hard to get my tongue to move and say what that voice was screaming in my head:Yes! I’m sexually attracted to her!

“Can I have some of water?” I pulled on my collar and loosened my tie. The room temperature was comfortably cool, but I felt like I was suffocating in my skin.

“Of course.” Doctor Grey stood up and poured me a glass. I drank it all down in big gulps and placed the empty cup on a round table next to me.

“It just feels like I’m on trial here all of a sudden.” My hands were sweaty and I felt a panic attack approaching.

“I’m not here to judge you, Noah. I’m here to help you and offer my professional advice. You can rest assured that whatever you tell me in confidence will never leave this office.”

“Yeah, I’m fully aware of the confidentiality agreement.”

“Good, then please take some comfort knowing that I will not violate that agreement, unless you prove to be a danger to yourself or to others. In which case—”

“The authorities will be contacted, I know.”

We had been through this before. He offered me a reassuring smile and then waited for me to speak. I was booked for the hour, and as I glanced at the clock, I realized that only ten minutes had gone by. I stood up and began to pace again, standing stationary by the window. It was starting to rain. A few pedestrians pulled out their umbrellas below and shielded themselves from the precipitation that had accumulated above over the weeks. The heavy downpour got louder as I closed my eyes for a moment and listened to the soothing sound.

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen, you know … It sort of—did.”

“What were you expecting, Noah?”

I opened my eyes and fixed my gaze on a red fire hydrant down the street.

“For things to be normal between her and me.”

“Who?”

I hesitated and lowered my voice. “Aria.”

“How do you feel about Aria?”

How do I feel? I feel like a son of a bitch that should be locked up, that’s how I feel.

“I love her. She’s my daughter—my only daughter and only child.”

“How old is she now?”

“Seventeen going on eighteen.”

I could hear the quick movement of his fountain pen rolling on paper, and for some reason, I still refused to look him in the eye.

“How old are you now, Noah?”

“I’ll be thirty-four in August.”

“So there’s only a sixteen-year age difference between the two of you, and you’ve been separated from her since the time she was born, correct?”

“Yes.” I heard his pen again and then stared at a stop sign.

“Do you find yourself attracted to her?”

I think he left out the word “sexually” on purpose because of the way I’d reacted when he asked me the same question minutes earlier. I took my time responding, but surely, my silence said enough.

Finally, I drew in a deep breath and confessed in an almost inaudible voice, “Yes.”

“Physically, emotionally?”

I paused again. “Both.”

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