Cement Heart(48)
M: Hey. Thanks so much for asking, but nope… we’re good. :)
That text calmed me more than any mindless fuck ever could. I’d done what I was supposed to do. I’d followed through, for once. Gripping the side of the counter, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The reflection of a man who was desperately trying to change, trying to find himself but didn’t know how.
This therapist is a gift, you fuckhead. Don’t mess this up. Listen to her.
I slowly walked back to her office. She was waiting for me, sitting in the exact same spot she had been in when I’d had a tantrum and left. The leather crinkled as I sat back down and took a deep breath. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said softly. “Don’t ever apologize for how you’re feeling. I’m never going to tell you how you’re feeling is wrong or that you should feel a different way about something. Your feelings are yours and yours alone.”
“You just said the word ‘feelings’ like twelve times in three sentences,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Here’s the thing… I don’t know what’s going on with me. Six months ago, I was happy. I was playing amazing hockey, had the best friends in the world, fucking whoever I wanted… life was great. In one stupid moment, it all changed, and now I can’t get that happiness back. I don’t remember what happy feels like anymore. Everything is dark and dreary, and even when I’m balls-deep inside a woman I just met, I’m not happy. She’s just a thing. Just something I’m using to fill a void and try and find a moment of happiness, but it doesn’t work anymore.”
“Wow.” Dr. Roberts stared at me. “That was intense, Viper. You know yourself better than most people. Most people don’t know that they aren’t happy. Most people don’t admit that they’re using drugs or alcohol or sex to cope.”
“Wait.” My head was spinning so fast I couldn’t catch it. “You lost me.”
“You use sex the same way some people use drugs and alcohol. I’m not saying you’re addicted because you’re not out getting hookers or masturbating excessively, that I know of, but you definitely use it as a distraction from dealing with whatever it is you’re going through.”
“No way. That’s bullshit. I’ve always had one-night stands and sex with strangers.”
Okay, saying that out loud sounds a little strange.
“How many women would you say you’ve slept with in your lifetime?”
I raised one eyebrow at her without saying a word.
“Okay, scratch that. How many one-night stands would you guess you averaged a week before the accident?”
Am I really sitting in a therapist’s office trying to calculate the average number of women I fuck per week?
“One, maybe two typically.”
“Okay, and since the accident?”
“Three to five.”
Her eyes grew slightly bigger when she heard that number.
I shrugged. “I’m just being honest.”
“No, I’m glad you are. Viper, don’t you see? You’re out there trying desperately to find your next fix so that you don’t have to deal with what’s really happening inside of you.”
I stood up and started pacing the small room, rubbing my temples with my fingers. “Well how the fuck do I fix that?”
“Do you trust me?”
I stopped walking and spun to face her. “Fuck.”
“Do. You. Trust. Me?” she repeated, emphasizing each word like it was its own sentence.
“Two weeks ago, I didn’t know you existed.” I strolled over and plopped back down on the couch.
She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at me, clearly waiting for my answer.
“Yes, I trust you.” I sighed, nervous as fuck about what she was going to say next.
“Good. Then I need seven days from you.”
“Huh?”
“Seven days. I need you to completely abstain from sex for seven days.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Maybe, and maybe not. Can you just try it? It’s one week.”
“Sure. I’ll just call my friend Brody over to nail boards over my doors and windows so I can’t leave.” I covered my face with my hands and sighed again.
“Calm down, drama queen. I didn’t say you couldn’t eat for a week, I simply said no sex.”
“Wait, can I—”
“And no sex acts. No oral—giving or receiving—no petting, no making out, nothing. And I want you to go to the bar where you said you normally pick up women, at least once.”