“I’d like to talk about your cat.”
My body tensed as I sat in the black leather recliner. Joan, my therapist, noticed. She was watching, always watching, even when I thought she wasn’t.
“What about her?” I asked.
“I’m concerned about your attachment to her.”
“I’m a good pet owner.”
“It’s one thing to love your pet. It’s quite another to obsess over your cat to the point that it hinders your ability to have relationships with people.”
I sighed and shook my head. What was the point of coming to therapy if I didn’t talk about anything? It probably wasn’t going to help much if I didn’t let Joan in.
I relented. “She reminds me of someone.”
Joan lifted her head and sat up, suddenly much more interested. Sometimes, that was how progress was made, one grudging inch at a time.
“Who does she remind you of?” She asked.
“A girl I used to know. An Egyptian girl. We met at college.”
“What was her name?”
“I see. Did you date?”
I nodded. “For a while. She was a real sweetheart, always took care of me, always looked out for me.”
“And what happened?”
“College ended. We both had expectations placed on us, family obligations, work obligations. We said we’d keep in touch, but it’s easy to say things.”
Joan leaned forward, hands on her knees. “What’s stopping you from contacting her now?”
I sat back, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? I had to beg, plead, and scrape just to get my brother to allow me to see you twice a month. I’d never be allowed to see her.”
“If your brother really cares about you…”
“He doesn’t. He cares about himself, and about seeing how many women he can seduce. Besides, Persephone would kill me if she knew I was talking to another woman.”
“Well, she is your wife.”
1 2 3 4