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"IT'S NICE TO SEE you again, Carmen."
I walk into Dr Fraser's office solemn, body aching and dressed in Sarah's hand-me-down sweats, courtesy of spending the night huddled in her twin bed. After having received a text simply detailing the words, "I'm proud of you," from her — aimed at my return to therapy — I shut my phone off, preparing myself for an hour's spiritual cleanse. One I haven't put myself forward for in a while (at least not fully).
"Hi," is all I say in the moment I perch myself on that familiar couch.
"How've you been, honey?" Anita begins her timer, relaxing in her office chair and opening all ears to my struggles.
I start with a sharp inhale and a self-deprecating laugh, "Where do I begin?"
"Anywhere you see fit," she assures, following with the casual conversational prompt of, "how was your weekend?"
"Eventful." I raise my eyebrows, "Remember that boy I told you about?"
Anita flicks back through her notes, "JJ?"
"Yeah, JJ." I confirm, "Um, I think we're kinda dating now."
"Kind of. What makes you feel uncertain?"
I sigh, "Well, same thing as it always is with me. We didn't communicate our... arrangement," I say after a short pause, though the word choice seems rather too on the nose for what it really is; a conquest, "properly. He thinks we're one thing and it's the one thing I'm not ready for."
"He thinks you're in a relationship, doesn't he?" my therapist asks, to which I nod with flat lips.
Yet, I quickly backtrack, "Actually, I dunno. I mean, we were fighting yesterday, and he just called himself my boyfriend."
