The Boss & The Assistant - Rewritten Edition of "The Boss"

Chapter 24 - Lafayette

Emerson took the following week off to spend time with his family. They took a trip upstate to overcome their grief together. In the week that Emerson was away, I came to the realization that I was too dependent on him. Actually, Michael was the one who had the realization, because I became a little insufferable. I found myself resorting to bad habits - poor sleep, over eating, random hook ups in the reception area. I was snappier, too, bickering more with Michael than I had been as of recent.

Michael called me out on Thursday. "Just because Em isn't here doesn't mean you get to be an asshole again," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Maybe I'm always an asshole."

"No, you've been less assholish as of recent. Now that's he gone, the pressure to be nicer isn't as strong," he said, hands on hips.

"You're so fucking annoying," I said, which was very mean. After saying it, I realized that maybe he was right.

On Friday, I asked Cheryl if I could meet with her for an emergency session. I wanted to talk with her before Em returned on Monday. I couldn't be dependent on Em. It wasn't fair to him. He was so ready to sign this little amendment that would make doing the things we wanted to do okay. I couldn't jeopardize that. I mean, he was so warm and soft and smelled good when he was in my arms in his parents' basement. I don't think that's exactly where we were going to take it again, but if we did, I didn't want to ruin that.

"So, why do you think you're dependent on your assistant?" Cheryl asked.

"I mean, he's been gone all week, and now I'm resorting to being a shit person," I said. "And I know, you said to talk nicer about myself, but look at me. I'm so on edge, even right now. I need to be better without him. My mental health can't be dependent on him being around. I..." I sighed. "I want it to be good, better, on its own. It's just hard."

"What is it about your assistant that you think helps your mental health?" she asked.

"I don't know. I mean, he's always happy. A ray of sunshine."

"Always?"

I stared at the abstract lines on the carpet, trying to find a pattern. "No, not always," I said. "I guess he's actually anxious a lot. He cries a lot, too." I popped my jaw to the left. "I don't know. I guess..." I shook my head. What was I trying to say? "I yelled at him one time. He cried. I felt bad. I don't like reacting in anger because I don't like to make him cry."

She nodded. "You want to control your temper to prevent him from crying," she said. "What about other aspects of your mental health? You mentioned over-eating and your sleep schedule."

"Well, he crashed at my place for a while, and when he was there I ended up cooking more and having a better sleep schedule," I said, glancing at her, then back down. "I maintained it for some time, but even after he stopped staying at my place I was still doing better, so I don't know why I'm resorting to the bad habits again."

"What about your happiness?" she asked.

"What about it?"

"Well, you said that your better habits and the improvement in your mental health, was dependent on him. Does that mean your happiness is dependent on him?"

"No," I said, maybe too quickly. "I mean, he makes me laugh, sure. I'm not happy, though. I haven't been happy in a long time."

She tilted her head at me. "Not once, even recently?" she asked.

I thought about Halloween, being surrounded by the kids that tackled us, laughing on the floor with Em. I was happy. "Maybe a few times," I said. Why was I so in denial of being happy? I remembered what Em said about controlling my joy. I didn't control the joy Em made me feel. It was scary. No wonder I was resorting to depressive tendencies. But how could I be happy on my own? "How can I be happy on my own?"