Page 45 of Deeper

“Oh, fuck. Rylan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“You know, it’s okay if it isn’t okay.”

“What?”

Now, she has me confused.

“Whenever you tell me about stuff, you brush it off, like it’s no big deal. It’s okay to be sad or pissed or both or whatever feelings you have about it.”

“Sometimes, it doesn’t feel that way,” I say softly.

“I promise, whatever you feel is okay, and I’m always here if you want to talk about it.”

“Thanks, Tatum. Really, I’m okay, though. No need to start channeling Vanessa.”

This makes her laugh at least.

Tatum is good people. She’s what I’ve been missing in my life for a long time.

“Speaking of our dear friend, what did you talk about in group today?” I turn toward Tatum, ready to listen to someone else’s problems.

But she avoids eye contact with me. “Um, I should probably be honest with you about something.”

I fidget with my wine glass and wait.

“I…” She takes a long sip of her own wine, clearly uncomfortable. “I won’t be going back to anger management because I don’t have anger management issues.”

I try to hold back my laugh, and it comes out sounding like a deranged sneeze-snort sound. Well, shit. I didn’t expect that. “What do you mean? Of course you do. You’ve been going to those meetings for over half a year.”

“I went because I was lonely. I thought I could meet people there.”

My mouth hangs open, and I’m not sure if she would be offended if I laughed at her.

“Like the woman from Fight Club?” She doubles over in laughter, and I smile before asking, “What about the stories you tell?”

“I Google them. I steal other people’s stories off a public anger management group online. I’m a fraud. Please don’t be mad. I didn’t think about it beforehand. I wasn’t trying to be deceptive. I was just lonely.”

“Seriously? You think this would upset me? Why would you go to a therapy group to meet people? Why not sign up for a class or learn a new hobby? What the hell were you thinking?”

She laughs again. “I guess, looking back, maybe I should have joined a pottery class or something. The therapy seemed less intimidating since people are supposed to go to it alone. I didn’t want to sign up for a class by myself.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“I’m awful. People like you are there, really opening up about painful stuff from their past, and I’m in there, telling lies about being a crazy ex-girlfriend. I’m so sorry.”

“Tatum, I was there for punching a guy in the face. I would have told that to any random woman standing behind me in a checkout line. It isn’t as if I was in there, spilling my deepest, darkest. I don’t think anyone really was. Seriously, don’t worry. You were lonely. People go to therapy for isolation. Are you still lonely?”

“No, but—”

“Then, the therapy worked!” I hold out my glass to hers. “Cheers to the lonely and to the pissed. May they get all the help they need.”

She clinks her glass with mine, and we get lost in a fit of wine giggles.

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