Dear Bridget, I Want You(35)
She tapped her pen. “Listen to your words—more attached than you already are. On a scale of one to ten, rate your current obsession with this man. How often do you think of him on a daily basis, ten being the most.”
“Nine.”
She adjusted her glasses. “Nine…”
“Yes.”
“So, essentially, if you sleep with him, your obsession may then move to ten.”
Is she mocking me again? I think she is.
“Yes. Most certainly, it would,” I said.
“So, you’re depriving yourself of something that you greatly want on many levels, when really, I would say your worst fear has basically already happened. You’ve already concluded that he’s leaving—yet you’re attached anyway, thinking of him all of the time. Knowing that he’s leaving has not stopped you from focusing on him.”
What is she getting at?
“You think I should give in to my desires despite the consequences?”
She shook her head. “That’s not my decision to make. I do, however, think that you should probably realize that the attachment you fear has already happened.”
Sweat was permeating my forehead. “This is not exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“Do you disagree?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Look, Bridget, there’s a certain amount of risk in everything. We take chances every day. The only thing we can control is what happens today. As an adult woman, you shouldn’t be depriving yourself of something that you clearly want. You’ve admitted that you want him and that it’s been a struggle to resist.”
“Okay, but that’s selfish, isn’t it? What about Brendan?”
“What about Brendan? Your son already seems to be enamored with Simon. Your choosing a physical relationship with this man is not going to make a difference from Brendan’s perspective, as long as you choose to keep things discreet.”
It seemed no matter what I said, my therapist was making a case for my taking the plunge with Simon, and it was making me very uneasy. I needed someone to talk me out of it at this point, not talk me into it.
I was getting defensive. “I don’t agree with you—on all of this. I really feel like giving in would be an emotional disaster waiting to happen.”
“Ultimately, you need to do what you’re comfortable with. My job is just to help you identify your feelings. You may still choose to make the decisions that you deem right by some internal court of law in your mind. No decision is the wrong one, necessarily.”
When I stayed lost in thought, she continued.
“You’ve been thinking with your head for a very long time. While that makes for a very safe existence, we sometimes inadvertently inhibit our true happiness when we do this. Life choices shouldn’t always be about the end result. People fail to realize that the small adventures in the middle are sometimes more important. When you’re old, you’re going to reflect on your life and everything is just going to be one big ball of memories anyway. Why not have something worthwhile to look back at?”
I hated that this bitch was making a point.
Simon snuck up on me at the nurses’ station. “So, when were you gonna tell me it’s your birthday?”
A chill ran down my spine at the sound of his voice.
“How did you know that?”
“Brendan told me.”
“Well, when you get to a certain age, it’s not exactly something to celebrate anymore.”
“That’s utter tosh, Nurse Valentine.”
“Tosh?”
“Rubbish.”
“Oh.”
“What are you plans tonight, birthday girl?”
“Brendan and I have a tradition on my birthday that started last year. We go to this fancy Chinese restaurant and gorge ourselves.”
“You have room for one more?”
“You want to join?”
“No, I was going to send Alex Lard to cough on your food,” he teased. “Of course, I want to join.”
I hated that I was starting to feel giddy. “Oh…sure, yeah,” I said nonchalantly, even though my heart was pounding.
“Okay. I get off a bit later than you. I could meet you guys there around eight?”
“That sounds great. I’ll text you the address.”
Later that night, Brendan and I snagged a corner booth at Willie Chen’s Asian Bistro. The restaurant was known for their amazing moo shu, live music, and exotic drinks. Of course, there would be no drinking for me tonight since I would be driving home.
Brendan was playing with the chopsticks while we waited for our appetizer. I kept glancing back toward the door, checking for Simon.
It wasn’t until I stopped looking for five minutes that I smelled his delicious scent behind me.