Imperfectpictures

6/3/2019

Episode Forty-one: Therapy

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Episode Forty-one: Therapy

I was not handling gross New York in January very well after being in amazing Los Angeles with my sexy as hell boyfriend in the perfect weather. We had so much fun together. Even when he was working. We had so much fun filming videos together. I managed not to ugly cry in front of Edward when he left me in the airport lobby that early-mid January day. I waited until the last minute, silently holding each other's hand as we sat in his car before.

"It's just a month," I said in a whisper when we kissed goodbye. He nodded, but I could see his eyes turning red around the edges. I didn't want him to cry. I hated it when he cried because of me.

I pouted the entire flight home and slept for two days after getting back.

I didn't like being cold or alone.

At least my foot was almost back to normal finally. It only ached a little bit, and the bruises were all gone.

I had more magazine work planned in the following weeks than I had at any other time before. I was also doing several smaller volunteering trips. I was going to cram as many things into my time alone to distract myself from my missing of Edward as possible. It was my grandmother’s style of dealing with problems.

He was doing a lot of his voice work and editing from the insane number of videos we made together while I was there with him. His backlog was growing every day, and he was getting very prepared for our trip to Australia. We had a whole shared file of video ideas together for our time there. Some of them were simple, lots of food and drink videos with him, and others were stupid like renting giant sumo suits and boxing rings to fuck around his friends. Skywriting, even. Possibly sky diving again. He had so many fun plans. Somewhere in the middle of the list, he added a giant note to the side where he expressed his sincere desire to do everything on it with me but that there was just no way for us to be able to do that in one month and that I would simply have to come back to Australia with him again. I just replied back with a single word. Obviously.

The next day he sent me a giant box of expensive truffles and a bottle of my favorite wine with the message, “I love planning my future with you.”

Demetri was with me in the apartment, lounging with me on the couch while we worked on pictures I took for him at the theater. He was trying to prepare an ad campaign for the buses or taxi signs that you see around the city.

“That man is the sweetest. I could eat him up,” he told me as he opened the gold box filled with an assortment of flavors. There was every sort of chocolate, milk, dark, white, and they all had different decorations on the top. Swirls of chocolate in different colors, flakes of gold, sprinkles, salt, nuts, and even some things that I wasn't even sure what they were.

“Wait. Let me take pictures first,” I said as he reached for one. I slapped his hand away gently before he could smudge something up.

“Hipster,” he teased me.

“No, they're beautiful. Look at all the colors and patterns,” I said as I pulled out my camera from my bag that had been resting on the bed. “He knows how much I like taking pictures of this kind of stuff. It's my favorite.”

"I can tell." He smiled at me. His hair was light pink right then at the tips, and it made him look very pale and soft. He watched me curiously as I quietly took pictures. "Are you okay there, Bells?"

“I just miss him,” I mumbled as I tried to look through the viewfinder, bent over at an awkward angle so that my breasts dug into my stomach. I straightened up and popped my back. I felt tired and old. “I'll see him again soon.”

“You could call him right now.”

"He's recording for the next four days solid. He'll call me when he gets off work tonight, and he'll talk to me then for a while. Or we'll text. We always call to tell each other goodnight, whoever is going to sleep first."

“You could text him,” he offered me instead curiously.

My nose began to sting, and I kept my eyes wide so tears couldn't form. I leaned down to take a picture of a particular white chocolate ball with red swirls on top. "I shouldn't bother him."

“Are you crying?” He asked me. I blinked my eyes quickly and looked away. I sniffled quietly and wiped my nose with the back of my hoodie sleeve.

“Stupid allergies,” I mumbled, turning my back to him so I could take a picture from a different angle.

“Aw, it's normal to be sad when you miss someone.”

“He told me he loved me when I was there last time,” I told Demetri with a smile. We hadn't gotten to talk much since the show. He had so much Christmas stuff to work on and so did I. Life always seemed to get in the way.

I looked at the camera screen at the photos I had captured. I switched the lens to get more close up pictures. I stood beside my bed, my back to my friend so I couldn't see his expression.

“So, it's getting pretty serious.”

“Yeah,” I nodded.

“Is that good?”

“It's not bad,” I laughed at his question. “I love him, too.” I shrugged a little bit. “It is what it is.”

“No one who says that is happy about what it is,” he pointed out to me. He loved to call me on my bullshit.

“It's weird to move on. I feel guilty is all,” I admitted.

“Aiden wouldn't be about that.”

“Aiden was an emotionally stunted man child that was probably-” I stopped myself. “There are a lot of things he should have felt guilty about that he didn't.”

“I see someone has gotten to the anger part of the grieving process,” Demetri mused at my spicy attitude.

“I go back and forth on my stages.” I leaned my head back and looked up at the ceiling.

“It's been long enough. There is nothing to feel guilty about.”

I couldn't face him. “What if I love him more? How terrible would that make me?”

"Girl," he said in surprise. "That's not how this works. Every relationship is different. And if this one is better? Good. You can't change your relationship with Aiden now. That's over. But you can control how you allow yourself to be treated in the future. Remember, things change, and that is okay."

“We are all but dust,” I mumbled as I leaned down to take another picture. “He treats me like a princess. He has literally called me his queen before.”

“Mm, sounds hot,” he teased me, making me laugh. “What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” I replied quickly.

He flicked some of his long pink hair behind his shoulder. “It kind of sounds like it.”

“I love it. I just don't understand why. And how,” I said as I focused a picture on the salt on a piece of milk chocolate swirled with caramel. Edward would have liked that one.

Demetri's voice was high pitched and quick. “What do you mean, how?”

“How he could see me and go 'yes, you're my queen, and I'm going to kneel at your feet,'" I jokingly did my boyfriend's accent, making Demetri laugh. "Especially while he's in Hollywood literally surrounded by the most beautiful people on the planet. I don't get it. Especially just going on that first week. I wasn't trying to look nice. I was trying to blend in. I wore flannel most of the first week."

“It's okay that you're a little lesbian. Ain't nothing wrong with that. But you know you're fine, right? Like you've got a banging figure and a pretty face. Baby, you thiccc with three Cs. You're smart and sweet. Flexible as fuck. What's not to worship?” He said. I waved my hand over the box to offer him some of the chocolate, smirking at his compliments. He happily waved his long pink nails over the candies in there while he decided which one he wanted to take. I took a white one that had pink stuff in the center and sat down on the couch again beside my friend.

“Thank you,” I sent Edward the simple text. “I love you.”

“Seriously though. Don't you like it?” Demetri asked me curiously. He was sitting with his knee crossed over his other sharply, his hand resting on his leg. He was wearing an all pink suit with a cream colored blouse. He always looked like a work of art. I brought my camera up to take his picture as I considered what to say to him. Demetri smiled brilliantly, knowing exactly how to pose his chin up to make his face look as sharp as possible.

“I don't feel like I'm doing enough to earn it,” I admitted finally.

“What do you think you need to be doing more of, hm? Let him do a little courting. It probably won't last forever. Enjoy it while you can,” he tried to reason with me.

"No, I think if he loves someone, he likes to spoil them." I finished the other half of the pink and white truffle, sucking the sugar from my fingertips.

“Well, good. Even better. Girl, snatch him up. You need to put a ring on that,” he said through a mouth full of caramel. He picked up another chocolate from the massive box. He was probably saving me from myself.

"Okay," I scoffed. "I'm working on it, but I don't have major confidence in my snatching abilities. I feel like I'm watching this person who is just on the edge of an explosion and I don't think he knows it or sees it. He is in such a different league than me."

“So, you're worried you're not good enough in the future. That's crazy.”

“I'm actually worried I'm not good enough for him right now and he'll just realize it when he's some megastar and he's got literally beautiful women crawling all over him for a living,” I told him, taking another piece of chocolate from the box to try before putting it to the side. I wouldn't need any more sugar after that.

“I love you. Do you like them?” Edward asked me. He sent a funny picture of his face very close up with wide crazy eyes in his black torture box where he was doing his voice-overs. “I'm losing my mind.”

I put the truffle in between my teeth and took a silly picture to send him back. Demetri chuckled as he watched.

“I am so jealous of that candy,” his text popped up quickly.

“I'd rather have you in my mouth,” I texted back.

“I swear to god I will fly out this evening just to spend a few hours with you,” was his quick answer. I smiled to myself, hiding the phone away from my friend beside me as he looked through the pictures I edited again.

“You couldn't do that,” I replied back to Edward. “You can't just spend hundreds of dollars and travel over ten hours to get laid.”

“Not to just get laid. I'd take you out first. I'm classier than that.”

“I'm not,” I typed.
“Fuck.” He sent a series of heart emojis. “You are killing me here, beautiful.”

“Suffer,” I sent him a winking emoji. “If you were here the only food you'd be eating is this chocolate off of my body.”

“You know what? I'm not that classy either,” he answered back, making me laugh out loud quietly.

“Would you enjoy that?” I asked him. “Eating chocolate off my naked body?”

“Eating my favorite thing off of my favorite person? Yes, I think I would very much like that.”

“I thought you liked caramel better,” I teased my boyfriend through text message. “Would you rather lick warm caramel sauce off of me or chocolate?”

“Dead.” He sent several hearts in between the skull emojis. “See? You killed me.”

I ignored his comment and continued to tease him. I liked egging him on. We hadn't really sexted much or even had phone sex yet, but our conversations were getting dirtier and dirtier every night. “Personally I'm partial to cherry syrup or maybe strawberry. Maybe whip cream. I like the mix of hot and cold.”

“I swear I'm going to make you into a sundae and eat you like fucking ice cream next time I see you.” His reply made my heart skip a little beat as I chewed on my lip as I thought about the best way to respond.

“Girl, your face just got so red,” Demetri laughed, startling me. I had been so focused on what I had been saying to Edward on the phone.

“He's just being flirty,” I said with an awkward little laugh. “Oh, my god... To be twenty-five again, and have all his energy and his can-do attitude,” I said to Demetri with a happy little grin.

“I know that's right,” my friend agreed.

I sent Edward the text, “I cannot wait.”

Later that night, I poured myself a glass of the wine that was almost half the bottle on its own. I took a picture of myself posing rather seductively with the box of chocolate and wine in my lap, delicately trying the chocolate. Then I took a funny photo of me all scrunched up on the couch with a couple of pieces of chocolate on my chest and drinking wine out of an ugly plastic cup like a hobo person that was Alice's. I sent Edward both with the caption 'expectations vs. reality.'

My phone rang a second later. “Funny girl,” he teased me with a laugh. “Jokes on you. I like both.”

“These things are so good. My ass is going to get so wide if I eat all of them,” I joked before taking a sip of the wine and relaxing back on the couch. “What are you doing?”

"I just got out of the studio, and I'm driving home now. I wanted to hear your voice. What are you doing?"

“The reality picture,” I admitted with a giggle, taking a bite of one of the ones I had on my chest before it began to melt. “I wish you were here.”

“So do I.”

“How is the recording going?” I asked him to change the subject to something a little nicer.

“It's going well. It's just a little tedious. I don't like recording so many days in a row,” he complained a little bit. “I don't suppose I could fly you out for the weekend?”

“I've got a fashion shoot on Saturday and Sunday I'm leading a trip. Plus I have therapy on Sunday before the trip. Otherwise, I would definitely come over for ice cream.”

“Mm,” he hummed, making me smile to myself. “That thought made the day a lot better for me. Thank you. Now I'm making a list of things in my mind I'd like to lick off your body.”

I giggled as I took a sip of wine, “I think I want you to start with a nice warm caramel.”

"I want to lick it off your nipples," he said in a warm purr, and my body instantly reacted to his silky voice. My nipples became visible hard through my shirt, and there was a mild ache between my legs.

“Where else would you like to lick it off?” I asked in a silky voice.

“Off your creamy thighs. I want to tie you to the bed then spread your legs wide and drizzle it all over them.”

“Christ.” I put my wine down, sinking down onto the couch. “Promise you will do this to me someday.”

"If I could get out of work I'd do it tomorrow," he told me in such a way that I knew it was entirely true.

“You definitely should make that list of all the things you want to lick off my body. I'd like to see how long that gets.”

“Oh, it's growing.”

“I'm sure it is,” I teased.

He chuckled before becoming more serious. “I'm sitting in my garage because I don't want to go inside. Because you won't be there waiting for me. Tell me why I shouldn't drive to the airport right now?”

“Contracts and money.”

“Fuck the money. It's the contracts that are the real problem.”

I heard the front door open. "Alice is home," I said quietly. She knocked on my folding doors, so I sat up again with a sigh and picked up my wine. "Yeah?" I answered her knocking.

"Let me know when you get off the phone, and we'll order dinner. I want Venezuelan, so I'll buy it," she said tiredly.

“Okay, thanks,” I raised my glass to her. She came into the room to look at the candy box. She pulled out two pieces. I actually poured some of the wine into her plastic cup and passed it to her.

“Goodnight, Eddie!” She called to the phone before shuffling off with her chocolates and liquor.

“Go ahead and order my usual,” I called to her. She waved at me to acknowledge that she had heard me.

"Tell her goodnight for me," he chuckled again softly before sighing heavily. "Okay. I should probably get inside and get some dinner myself, so I can get some work done. Call me before you go to sleep, alright?"

"Okay," I said with a little smile. "If you want, we can smoke together. Tell me when you want to go to sleep, and I'll stay up with you until you're ready," I offered him.

“I'd like that so much. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I'll talk to you tonight, my love,” he said before he hung up. I instantly felt sadder for it.

On Sunday while I waited for my therapist appointment, I felt anxious as I sat in the cheap black chairs. This was going to be the fifth time I was seeing Angela, my new therapist. She seemed nice enough, but I was always uncomfortable talking about myself to others. It felt vain to talk about myself. And vanity was pride, and pride was a sin. I didn't really believe it, but it had been so drilled into my head by my grandmother.

“Hi, come on in” she smiled when it was my turn. She was an average looking black woman with long straight dyed red hair. She seemed to always wear the same style of dress in a variety of different wild patterns, or at least she did every time I saw her. She was close to my age, maybe a few years older at the most. “How are you doing today?”

"Um, I'm fine, I guess. I'm kind of tired because I stayed up late photo editing and then I didn't sleep very well when I did get to bed." I chewed on the side of my thumb as I came to sit on her nicer brown cloth couch. It was by a large window, and the sunshine was streaming in. The room was simply decorated with colorful abstract paintings that all doctor's offices seemed to have. It smelled faintly of apples because of a candle she had burning on her desk.

She sat down in her chair across from me with her little yellow notepad in hand. “Why did you not sleep very well? Because of the anxiety you've been feeling lately?”

“Partially, I suppose. I couldn't get my brain to shut off. It wasn't all bad stuff.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“So you remember that boyfriend I went to see for Christmas? Edward. Well, I'm trying to plan this trip for us. I couldn't stop thinking about it. That's all,” I explained, taking a deep breath and giving her a little smile. It wasn't really a bad thing.

She tilted her head to the side as she took me in. “Trips can be exciting. But this doesn't seem to be a good sort of anticipation. Is there a reason for that?”

"Oh..." I drew out slowly as I thought about it. "It is good. Really good. It's just… He took us somewhere really nice for Christmas, and I'm having performance anxiety now," I joked. "He took us to Alaska, to Mt. Denali, for a few days, and he arranged all these amazing things for us to do. He made sure he planned things around my foot and everything. I don't think I can plan anything great like that."

“Is there a reason you can’t?” Angela asked simply, keeping a neutral expression on her face.

“Money, for one,” I admitted to her.

“Money is a common theme in your anxiety. You were feeling anxious about it last time we spoke as well,” she noted to me as she wrote something on the paper before glancing up at me again. “Is there a particular reason?”

"I think probably because I grew up destitute. The house I lived in was practically a shack. Sometimes there wasn't a lot to eat. I only got to go to the nice school that I did because my grandmother worked at the school and I got to go for free. I got sponsors to pay for my dance and stuff. And, I've never been very good at handling money really, either. I used to let my husband handle all the bills and stuff, which was really stupid. He wasn't any good with money either. I was so dependent on him for so many stupid things," I complained.

“Is there a problem with being dependent on someone else? Everyone has to be for some things,” she reminded me. I had said the same thing to Edward before, but this was different.

“I know, but I don't like relying on people for money.”

“We all have to rely on someone for money. Employers, clients, family members. Who are you relying on for money exactly?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. We had discussed my work before.

“Is there someone giving you money that you've not earned through work?” She questioned curiously.

“Oh,” I drew out. “Well, Edward gives me money.”

She wrote something else down. “He just gives it to you? Like he just hands you wads of cash?”

“No,” I laughed a little bit at the image. “Um, it actually goes straight into my account. Well, it's from his personal production company. From being in the videos.”

“So, it's for work you do with him,” Angela replied.

“It's not really working.” I shook my head. “It's just hanging out with him. I'd do it for free.”

“Are you leaving your house? Do you have to put on clothes and makeup on for the benefit of someone else?” She asked me gently.

I snorted a little bit, “yes, but like it's the barest sense of the word. I love doing it.”

"Just because you love it doesn't mean it's not working. You love your photography, but you still consider it work," she countered.

“I suppose,” I agreed with her with a sigh, picking at my pants leg as my foot twitched back and forth.

“So, how do you earn money for yourself?” She asked me next.

"I do magazine work, and sometimes I do events, but it's been a while since I've done that. I don't really like doing them all that much because I feel awkward around a lot of people. I get some from my volunteering too, but I've been doing smaller trips. I've been too busy with other things."
“You like to keep busy,” she commented.

I shrugged. "I've just always been busy. So, habit, I guess? My grandma was big into the whole 'idol hands' thing. She thought if she kept my mother busier, she would have stayed out of trouble. Which isn't true in the least. So she made sure I had something to do from the time I woke up until I went to bed. School, Music. Church. Dance. Bible study. Cooking. Whatever."

“How did that make you feel?”

"Tired," I smiled a little bit. "It was because she loved me, and she never forced me. I wanted to do it at the time to make her happy. I wouldn't do it to my own kids though, but I appreciate what she was trying to accomplish. I turned out okay, so I guess it worked a little bit."

“So, let's go back to what we were talking about a second ago... You make money through your photography, your volunteering, and your work with your boyfriend,” she paused, catching something on my face I hadn't noticed I was doing until she said something about it. “You made a face, why?”

“He's seriously just giving me the money.”

Angela paused for a second to take a drink from her glass of water. “But, you've already said that he's not and you're doing things to help him. You're working for that money.”

“He's the one doing all the work. He plans everything, films it, does the editing. I just show up and stand beside him. And I've taken a few pictures for him. But it's not something I wouldn't do for any of my friends for free. He's giving me way too much for what I'm doing.”

“Who gets to decide that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who gets to decide how much he's giving you for your work on the videos?” She asked again, crossing her leg over her knee as she took in my expression. I looked down into my lap.

I picked at the edge of my winter boots. There was dirty fuzz around the top. "He does. He controls all these things. He says he gives his friends the same cut, but I don't know."

“Do you think he is lying about that?”

I pursed my lips as I thought about it. “No, I don't doubt he gives his friends a cut for the stuff they do with him.”

She shifted her leg back to the floor and leaned in to ask me. “So, is there a reason you shouldn't get yours as well?”

“I feel as if I'm taking advantage of him.”

“Are you?” Angela asked me simply.

I hadn't expected that. "I'm trying really hard not to use him. But he's got so much, and he's so generous. I'm worried that I'll take advantage and he'll resent me for it later."

“Can you tell me what it would look like if you were taking advantage of him?” She wrote again on the paper. I wanted to talk to Alice so much about what she was writing. I had been around Alice enough to learn some therapy basics. I was sure she would have thoughts about it as well.

“He would buy me more things than he does now. I'd ask him to take me out shopping all the time. I would ask him for more money to pay my bills or pay for things I don't need. I would probably already be living with him in his really nice house. Mm, I don't know. He'd probably like it if I let him take me out shopping more.”

“You made a face when you mention shopping. You don't enjoy shopping?”

“Actually, I like window shopping. I love the store displays around Times Square. And I like food shopping. But sometimes he offers to buy me the stupidest things,” I laughed awkwardly.

“Like?”

“Oh, jewelry. Expensive clothes and shoes. Useless materialistic shit like that.”

She picked up her water and took another sip before sitting it on the side table beside her. “How are those stupid?”

“They're stupidly expensive,” I smirked a little.

“By whose standards?”

“Mine,” I told her honestly. “There is no reason to spend two hundred dollars on blue jeans when you can get a good pair for twenty.”

“Maybe. But from what you've told me he has the money to spend on those sort of things. And there are benefits to buying more expensive clothes.”

“Well, there is no benefit to buying jewelry though,” I commented.

“How does it make you feel when he offers to buy you jewelry?”

I pursed my lips, frowning a little bit to myself. “Gross.”

She didn't look impressed with my answer. “Expand on that, please. How does it make you feel gross?”

"We've only been dating a few months. I don't feel like I've done anything to deserve jewelry. He's already bought me such nice thoughtful things, but those were gifts. It's different when you go out to the store to buy them." I mindlessly played with the end of my hair.

“It's still a gift if you pick it out,” she told me gently. “Who gets to decide if you deserve it?”

"Don't I?" I pushed the James Avery ring from Christmas around my finger with my thumb until it spun in place. My hands were cold, and the ring was a little loose on my tiny fingers.

“Doesn't he get a say? He's the one buying it,” she asked.

“I feel like he's just trying to do it to make me happy.”

“Well, obviously. But shouldn't he try to make you happy?” She replied. I felt my face turn a little red. My chest felt so tight.

“Well, I don't want him to try to make me unhappy but he's such a try hard, and I just can't give him the same things he can give me."

“Have you considered that he might not want the same things?”

“I don't mean exactly the same things, of course. I just want to be able to be his equal,” I said very quickly.

“And you're not now?”

“No.” I shook my head and swallowed. My stomach ached a little bit as I thought about it.

“How do you mean you're not his equal? In what ways are you not equal to him?” Angela pressed me further.

“He's rich... and talented… and so beautiful. Not just his face but all of him. Inside and out. He's practically pure sunshine. And here I am, this poor little troll ready to pop out with my sob story and a fascination with death at random.”

Angela lifted her hand to stop me. “So, let's pause for a second. You seem to have a lot of negative thoughts about yourself. Why is that?”

"Oh," I stopped, unsure what to say. I leaned my head back against the couch. "I don't know. I've always had them. I've always struggled with my self-confidence, and they're kind of always there."

“So, you would say your self-esteem is an issue you would like to work on?” I heard her black pen scratch across the paper.

"Yeah, of course," I laughed a little, embarrassed to admit it even if I talked about it pretty openly with my friends. "I mean, I know I've needed to work on it. I do try to push the thoughts away, and that's part of the reason I try to keep so busy, but they always creep in there."

“I'm going to make a couple of recommendations. I'm going to give you some literature on some different types of meditation I'd like you to look into. I think you would benefit from learning some calming techniques. Yoga, deep breathing, meditation. Also, I think we need to start focusing on stopping these negative thoughts and building your self-esteem back up. I have something else for you to read for that as well.” She began to write a whole list on the yellow legal pad she had in her lap on a different page to give me at the end of the session.

"Sure, I love yoga. I used to do it all the time. It would be nice to get back to it," I told her. "I've been spending a lot of time at the gym since I've gotten back anyway. I wouldn't doubt Alice has most of these books, by the way. If not, I'm sure she'd like to read them too," I commented. She was a former work friend of Alice's while she was still a fully practicing therapist, so she knew what I was talking about.

"Fantastic. I'm delighted to hear you say you're exercising. That's good. Keep that up. I can see yoga doing good things for you. Anyway, let's talk about your self-esteem issues a little more." She switched back to the other paper she had been writing on before. "Can you tell me some things you've accomplished that you are personally proud of?"

"Um, recently...? I guess my magazine work. And that charity show I was telling you about before. I learned a new song for that on my banjo, and it got me back into playing more again, which is nice."

“Can we go further back? There has to be more than those two things. What are some accomplishments from when you were younger?”

I had to take a long pause as I considered what to tell her. “I guess I'm proud of my degree, sorta. I kind of feel conflicted about it because I majored in music and minored in photography, so I feel like I'm wasting it.”

She smiled at me encouragingly. “It doesn't seem like it to me. A degree in music is quite an accomplishment. What sort of music did you study?”

"I just did a general music program. I couldn't really decide what I wanted to do. I played in the orchestra, too. I started with the piano when I was a toddler because my grandmother used to be a piano tutor, and she played in church every Sunday, but when I started school, I focused on the violin. When I was a teenager, I taught myself guitar and bass a little, but I mainly got those because they're cool." I smiled to myself.

“They are cool,” she agreed. “And you play the banjo too you said?”

“Yeah, just a little.” I nodded as I thought about the banjo that Aiden had bought me a few years before he died.

“Well enough to play for a crowd,” she pointed out.

“Rainbow connection with two weeks of practice,” I laughed. “Anyone could.”

"No, they couldn't. I couldn't. That's very impressive, and you should be proud of yourself."

“I suppose.”

“What does Edward think about your music?” She asked me next, writing something else down as she did. I wasn't sure why.

I bit at my bottom lip. "I've only played for him a couple of times, and it was just that one song twice. Once alone and for the show."

“How did he react?”

“He liked it. He said it was filthy how talented I was.” I smiled a little self consciously. “I think he's easily impressed though.”

“Well, he does work in Hollywood, as you said. Is it possible that he's right? Is there a reason you don't believe him?” Angela pushed.

“Because I'm just okay.”

She tilted her head to the side as she gazed at me. “He doesn't think so.”

“He wants to get laid,” I told her bluntly.

"Maybe," she laughed at my answer. "But from what you've told me he doesn't seem to be the type of person to lie to you about these things. So, you feel as if you're taking advantage of him because he's rich, talented, beautiful... your words." She tapped her pen on her pad. "But you're talented as well. You're passionate about important causes, and you do things to make the world the better place. I'd say you were beautiful on the inside and out as well."

“Nothing compared to him.” I smiled down at my hands as I spun the ring around again.

"Going back to something that I wanted to ask you earlier. Can you tell me what it would look like if he took advantage of you? How would it make you feel if he took advantage of you?"

Her question made me pause. I couldn't even think of a way he would try or could take advantage of me. “I don't know. I don't know if there is anything I wouldn't willing do for him right now if he asked me.”

Angela straightened up in her chair, making it squeak quietly as it adjusted against the linoleum floor. “Is it possible he feels the same way?”

“Yeah... He says he feels like he's taking advantage of me, actually. He says it a lot.” I thought back on some of our many discussions on the matter.

“How so? How does he feel like he's taking advantage of you?”

I pushed my hair away from my shoulder, adjusting in my spot uncomfortably. I switched how my ankles were crossed. "He says I make him a lot of money off of all the videos we do together, but I don't know how much I believe him. I don't think he's lying, I just don't think it's that much."

“So, he wants your help with his videos?” She another took a sip of water. “It benefits him as well?”

“Yeah, I guess so. He's even offered me a job for the channel.” I smiled weakly, pushing my hands into my hoodie pocket. “He wants me to move in with him and make videos with him all the time, but it's too soon.”

“Do you want to live with him and do that?” Angela asked in response.

“I wouldn't hate it,” I admitted with a little smirk. “It's just too early for that.”

“Mm,” she hummed out curiously. “By whose standards?”

“Normal polite society's,” I said a bit sarcastically.

"Fuck society," she said bluntly, making me laugh in surprise. "Society elects terrible leaders all the time and votes against their own self-interests. Obviously, society doesn't always know what it's doing."

I laughed, nodding in agreement, “you're correct.”

“Tell me the pros and cons of taking his job offer. Let's start with the cons first.”

"Oh... Cons. Well, I'd have to move away from New York. Away from Alice and Rosalie. Demetri. That would suck, and I'd miss them all so much. And I'd work for my boyfriend."

She brought her hand up, with the palm facing up. “With or for?”

“Both? I suppose. I don't think he'd be a terrible boss. He'd never make me do anything I don't want to do.”
“Would it be possible to continue your photography while still working with him?” She questioned me.

"Yeah, I think so. I have to start over in LA, though. I feel like I just started figuring out New York."

“How long have you been in New York?”

I could still remember the feeling of excitement the first time I realized I was moving out of the south to the place I always wanted to go. I smiled to myself slightly, “I moved to the Northeast a couple of months before my eighteenth birthday for school. We lived in Jersey for a bit before moving to the city. We moved to Brooklyn for a minute when I first got married, then we got our townhouse in SoHo where we were at for years. I've lived in Sunnyside with Alice for over three years now.”

“It's understandable that you would miss your friends that you've been so close to for so long. So, can you tell me some of the pros of moving to LA?”

"Pros... I'd be with Edward all the time. I'd get to live in LA. It's not here, but it's still beautiful, and the weather is great. I'd probably make a shit ton more money. God, I wish money wasn't a thing I had to think about," I complained in a small pout.

“What do you mean?”

“It just gives me so much anxiety. Every time I just think about checking my account my heart just... stops. It makes my stomach upset whenever I have to pay bills. I've set it up so that everything comes out automatically, so I haven't looked at it in weeks."

She wasn't judgmental when she asked, “is that something you can do? Can you just ignore your finances?”

“No one should ignore their finances. I'm going to have to look one way or the other in a day or two because I'm planning this stupid trip and I need to know how much I can spend.” I readjusted in my seat again so that my feet were both underneath me.

“How is it stupid?”

“It won't compare to his,” I replied.

She pursed her lips for a moment. “Why do you want to compare it to his trip?”

“It doesn't seem unreasonable to compare your next trip to your last trip. Especially so soon afterward,” I countered.

She cocked her head to the side while she made a quick note on her pad. “Is it possible that he has different expectations than you and wants different things for this trip than you do? What do you want to get out of this trip exactly?”

I knew this answer right away, “I want to show him a good time like he's always done with me in LA. It was horrible when he came here.”

"Bella," she sighed quietly, "that wasn't your fault. You can't control what kind of time he has. All you can do is plan and hope for the best. Sometimes the best doesn't happen, and that's okay."

I nodded my head quickly in agreement. “And logically, I know that. It just doesn't seem fair.”

“To who?”

“Him.”

She flipped to another page on her small legal pad. “How come? What makes it unfair?”

I sighed and leaned my head back for a second before rolling it to the side. “I want to make him feel like he makes me feel.”

Angela was playing with her pen, twisting the cap around the top with her thumb mindlessly. “Have you considered that he's happy with how you make him feel already? That you don't have to do anything special for him to care for you?”

“Oh, I know I don't,” I said that quietly. “Which makes me want to do it for him more.”

“It's okay to want to make someone happy, but not at the cost of your own mental health. Or sleep.”

"Yeah, I know. I just... miss him. God, just so much. I don't know if I've ever missed someone like this before. When we're together, I just feel so happy, and I can't think about anything else but that. He's so warm, and he makes me feel adored. Secure. When we're not together… Reality is just such a let down afterward. I don't understand how he can be so good to me. It doesn't seem real, almost."

“Can you tell me some things he might like about you? What do you think attracted him to you in the first place?”

“I think the normal guy things at first,” I laughed quietly as I thought about it. “You know, my boobs and butt. He likes my eyes, too.”

Angela smiled at me warmly. “You have very pretty eyes.”

“Thanks,” I smirked a little bit. “It's a genetic defect.”

“Mistakes can be beautiful, too,” she told me in a comforting way. “Those are just things you have perchance, though. You don't choose your appearance. What are some things about your personality that he might like?”

"Hm..." I laughed. I felt so embarrassed, even just saying it out loud. "He says he likes how sarcastic I am. He says I'm witty. And sharp. Which is such a weird compliment, in my opinion. I've never gotten it before. He thinks I'm funny. He likes that I'm artistic. He likes my pictures a lot. He keeps buying them to give to people, but I wish he'd stop."

She frowned a little bit. “Why?”

I sighed and shook my head. “He keeps buying them from my store without telling me first. I have a code I can use to give them to him at cost. He bought a ton at Christmas, so it's basically like he's paying for this trip anyway.” I shook my head again, still a little mad but not enough to start a fight about it.

“He did that because he wanted to buy them. He wasn't giving you the money. You still earned it by taking and editing the pictures in the first place.”

“It doesn't feel that way,” I commented.

“Tell me some more things he might like about you,” she ignored my words.

“I don't know,” I replied back quietly.

"Well, in my few sessions that I've personally gotten to know you, I have found you to be charming. You're kind-hearted and passionate about the things and people you care about most. You're very open-minded and encouraging to your loved ones. You're easy to talk to, and I know your friends find you to be very trustworthy and loyal. Would you disagree with my assessment?"

I flushed, biting my lip as I looked down at my hands in their hoodie pocket where they were hiding still. “No, I guess not. I mean, I don't know about charming. I don't know what that means exactly.”

She smiled at me, wanting to walk me to whatever she wanted me to figure out on my own. “What do you think it means?”

"Mm," I considered. "I think Edward is very charming, but I don't think it's the same thing. Or, I mean he's charming in a different way than me, I guess. He's charming in that big sweet puppy eyes sort of way. I think maybe I just have no filter and sometimes people like it. He says we have good banter on the videos. But I don't know. He always tries to egg me on though."

“I very much think you have a filter. I think you're very reserved with your words.” She wrote something else down on the paper before pulling a sheet out and putting it on the table beside us. It was getting close to the end of the session. “What do you think of the videos you make with him?”

“Um...” I drew out. “I haven't watched them, to be honest.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“I hate my dumbass hick accent,” I told her bluntly.

She laughed, “fair enough.”

“I imagine they're at least on par with his other videos because he's really good about his quality. I watch everything else he does. But I don't know how much extra work he has to make me look good in them.”

“What if he doesn't have to do any extra work?” She questioned. “How would it be extra work in the first place?”

"Like editing wise. I really don't know his processes. He's always so organized. He likes to stay busy like me, so we have that in common. I know he likes to edit," I admitted. I took a deep breath, feeling very anxious. "God, this place makes me need a cigarette."

“Do you smoke?” She began to write while she waited for my answer. This time I understood why she was writing. I wasn't going to be dishonest with her.

“Mm, weed. Sometimes. Not every day like Alice. It helps me sleep. I used to smoke cigarettes years ago, in my twenties, but I quit smoking regularly probably a decade ago. I just feel like I need to do something with my hands and mouth. Maybe I just need a cookie instead.”

“I can for sure understand that. How about the next session you bring yourself something? Bring a snack or some cookies? As long as you don’t go overboard with them.”

“I can do that.” I nodded. “Any requests? I make some pretty kick-ass chocolate chip cookies.”

“I would love some chocolate chip cookies.” She smiled widely at me, encouragingly. “So, we're coming to an end of our time. I'm going to encourage you to look into that literature. Look into some of the meditation techniques you can try. I'd really like to continue to see you twice a week, at least for a while longer. Will you be able to come on Wednesday?”

“Yeah. I've made sure I can come every Sunday and Wednesday until I fly out the sixth of February. I'll be back on the eleventh of March,” I explained to her.

“That's a long time. Is there any way you can arrange to keep up some sessions while you're away? Maybe through an online session or over the phone?”

"I can try, but I can't make any promises. Australia is such different time zones, so I don't know exactly when and how we could do that yet. Let me do some research on that, and I'll get back to you?" I offered. "I don't have enough information to give you an answer on that."

She nodded her head. "Well, if you can't find out for sure, I can give you my card. And if you find time while you're there, I'll try my best to work you in."

“Thanks,” I told her with a slight smile.

"Bella, I'm also going to recommend you see Dr. Carr again. You've been on your current prescription for about a month now, and I'm not seeing the improvements in the stress levels that I'd like to see. You might also want to consider seeking out a psychotherapist to perhaps work on some of these deep-rooted traumas. I think you would really benefit from talking to someone about your childhood. Someone with more experience than me."
“I have seen one a couple of times. When I was younger, but I don't know how effective it was. I was young and stubborn. I wasn't open to it back then.”

“You clearly see that you have some issues that need to be dealt with. What has been keeping you from seeking help before now?”

“Money,” I said simply. “I've just been scraping by until Eddie. It's honestly just been since the end of October that I could afford to come to see you and I decided to seek therapy at the end of November.”

“Because of the incident with the racist and your anxiety?”

“Right.” I nodded. “Well, no. I actually decided before the bigot. Alice told me I needed to seek help after I had basically a day-long panic attack.”

This got her attention. She wrote some more. This time I understood as well. “Why did you have a panic attack?”

I licked my dry bottom lip. “Edward got sick. Just a cold, but it freaked me out for some reason.”

“Is there a reason for that?” She pressed me.

I laid my head back on the couch, the sunlight warm on the back of my neck. "I just can't handle another lover dropping dead on me. I swear if it happens again, my vagina is cursed, and I'm never letting anyone touch it ever again."

She laughed again, "see, you are funny. But you know it's not you. Your husband's death wasn't your fault. Nor was your grandmother's. Or your mother's."

“I know.” I nodded, picking up the piece of paper. “Though you make some gross assumptions about my grandmother and mother,” I joked.

“Did they not, at the very least, change your diaper?” Angela was funny, too. I liked her.

“Oh, damn, you're right,” I laughed. “That's terrible. Oh, no.”

“And I think we can end it right here,” she laughed along with me. “I know we didn't get to it this week, but remember what we talked about last week on self-care? When you come back next time I want you to have done at least two things for yourself, okay? And don't forget those cookies. I'm looking forward to them now.”

Back: Episode 40

Next: Episode 42