She nods, and I keep questioning. “Why?”
“I have… issues with intimacy.” The confession is not given easily, and I appreciate her willingness to get help. It’s hard for people to ask for help.
“Does it bother him?”
She shakes her head.
“Did he give you any indication that he doesn’t see you as equal?”
Another shake.
I push harder. “Did he ever treat you like a victim?”
At that, her eyes go round, but she shakes her pretty head again.
“Then he doesn’t see you as one. And he doesn’t see you as a bad partner. It’s all in your head.” I tap my temple with a middle finger. “Others see you how you see yourself. Embrace yourself, and others will too.”
“Do you think he will embrace me after that?” Her voice is small but full of hope.
“I think he already has.” I stretch my arm and gently touch her shoulder, ready to move backward at the first indication of panic. But she doesn’t flinch, which is another indication that Mark is wrong about her, so I lean closer and kiss her forehead. “Go talk to your man, Justin’s little sister.”
“How do you know that?” Her eyes are wide with surprise.
“You look like him, but cuter.” I tap her nose once and walk away, leaving her in awe on the sidewalk. It’s too much happy meddling for one night for such a dark soul as mine.
ChapterTwenty-Six
ALICIA
The talk with the stranger seemed to plant a seed in my brain, and it’s been growing roots ever since. I was so scared to talk to him, but I was even more scared for Mark. When I saw someone else was getting out of his driver’s side door, I panicked, threw a sweater on, and ran outside. Mark was wobbly on his feet, but the man helped him to get into his house and left. By foot.
I was so nervous to face the man, but I had to do it. I needed to know what happened to Mark. To face a stranger was less scary than to face Mark.
This time, fate was on my side, because the stranger turned out to be a saint. And a really good advice-giver.
When I was seeing my therapist a year after that night eight years ago—well, way before I gave up on the idea of being cured and stopped the sessions—I used to think I’d never fall in love or even look at a man again. At some point, I was hoping I’d find out I was attracted to women, and all my problems would be resolved since women don’t trigger me. No such luck. I wasn’t attracted to anyone in general. And it was just my luck that when I’ve finally found someone who made me feel like a whole person again, the universe had to go and ruin everything by making him the bad guy in my nightmares.
To be fair, last night my usual nightmare was different. The same night, the same people, Mark there too… but this time, his eyes were burning bright, and he was repeating“Push back. Push back. Push back.”
And I pushed. For the first time in eight years, I pushed back, and it felt good.
Maybe, it’s my time.Thank you, stranger.
I decide to try something. I dress into my usual potato sack attire and run down the stairs.
“Be back soon!” I yell to Mom, who’s cooking in the kitchen. Not waiting for her to come out and question me, I rush outside to the car. It’s cold, but I don’t feel it. I didn’t even put a winter coat on. Just my regular dark-grey sweatsuit.
I’ve never been to the new PTSD center that Freya opened, but it’s easy to find a huge mansion on the outskirt of the town. I didn’t make an appointment, and the decision to be here is spontaneous. I fear that if make an appointment and I have a date, I’ll have too much time to overthink and change my mind.
Freya greets me at the receptionist’s desk with big round eyes and an open mouth. “Alicia? Hi. Is everything okay?” She blinks a few forceful times, possibly thinking I’ll disappear.
“Hey,” I reply. She doesn’t know why I’m here, so she doesn’t know if she should greet me as a friend or as a patient. “Sorry for coming without an appointment.”
“That’s totally fine.” She waves me off, composing herself. “What’s up?”
“I need help.” I drop the mask I’ve been wearing for eight years. I do need help. I want to be cured.
Freya instantly looks like a woman on a mission. She walks from behind the table, hugs my shoulders and leads me to the hallway. “Whatever problem you have, it will stay absolutely confidential between you and your person. None of the people who work here check patients’ files unless it’s special circumstances. The people here are the best you can find.”
