Chapter 30

TRIGGER WARNING:

The previous chapter included a character displaying what was implied to be suicidal ideation. Although this character is demonstrably in a safer place emotionally and mentally here, this chapter includes a further discussion of those events. I implore you, as with the previous chapter, to PLEASE make sure you are in a safe place mentally and emotionally before proceeding.

...

The office of Sandra Duran, LPC, was located in a relatively nondescript seven-story office building in Cary. Sandra herself was a thin fiftysomething woman with several streaks of gray in her dark brown hair, her face framed by oversized red-rimmed glasses, and her kind eyes were a chocolate brown. My immediate impression was a quite positive one; she seemed very approachable and friendly.

After the three of us were seated in her office, a brief silence ensued as I looked at both her and Lisa expectantly. Sandra looked at her and, with a slight Georgia-inflected twang in her voice, said, “It’s your show, doll.”

Lisa’s mouth opened to speak, but she hesitated for a small eternity before she nervously chuckled and looked at Sandra. “This is a lot harder than I expected.”

After a few more moments, she looked at me. “I ... how do you feel about me?”

My eyebrows arched. Didn’t she know after all this time?

Maybe not.

“I ... feel like Michael is right, like you’re the woman God intends for me to spend the rest of my life with.” I considered saying more but decided to leave it there.

“Why?” Of course she wasn’t going to let me off easy.

“I ... wow. Um...” How could I explain to her how much she meant to me?

“You know that scene in ‘Good Will Hunting’ where Robin Williams is talking to Will about the girl he met? He says, ‘You’re not perfect. She’s not perfect. The question is whether you’re perfect for each other.’ You love me. You encourage me. You pray with me and for me. You make me want to be the best man I can be and the best runner I can be and the best ... the best everything I can be. These past couple of months have been miserable for me ... I mean, I know it doesn’t even begin to compare with what you’ve been going through, but losing you was like having a piece of my soul ripped out, and I didn’t know what I was going to do if it was really over between us. I love you, Lisa. I love you so much it physically hurts sometimes, and I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

Lisa paused to wipe at her eye, then looked over at Sandra, who nodded at her in encouragement. “I wanted you to come here tonight because this office is kind of my safe place. This is where I get to kind of take off the mask and be real and let everything out. I need to do that with you.”

“You’re in healthcare, you know how doctors talk about having informed consent? There are a few things you need to know about who you’re getting involved with here.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve told you about having random sex in college to help my GPA? Well, I also did it to help pay my tuition.”

“You mean ... like ... Backpage and such?”

“Well, Backpage wasn’t really a thing then, but yeah, same idea.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

She gave me a baffled look. “You understand I’m saying that I was a whore, right?”

“Yep.”

“And ... you’re okay with that?”

“Do you have any health issues I need to know about?”

“No. I knew enough to insist on protection and I got tested every few months.”

“Are you doing it now?”

“No.”

“Okay. Look, I gave my virginity to a sex worker, so I have no claim to any moral high ground here. It’s in the past, so let’s leave it there.”

“I’m clinically depressed.”

“I already knew that. So am I, and I’m pretty sure you knew that too.”

She drew a deep breath and looked away again. “I ... uh ... wasn’t celibate while we were apart.”

This actually did surprise me. I had figured she just holed up in her apartment and shut herself off from the world. “Okay. And?”

“But ... I ... um ... I kind of feel like I was unfaithful to you.”

“We weren’t together.”

Suddenly, she leapt to her feet. “WHY NOT?” she shouted. “YOU JUST LET ME WALK OUT! YOU DIDN’T COME AFTER ME! YOU DIDN’T FIGHT FOR ME! WHY?!”

Utterly baffled, I looked to Sandra for help. I had no idea what just happened, nor did I know what the right answer was at that moment.

Sandra didn’t really help. “John, what’s going on with you right now?”

I then remembered my ex, who was bipolar and also had borderline personality disorder. Someone once recommended a book to me that was written to help the loved ones of someone with BPD understand it. I didn’t stop laughing for several minutes after they told me the title: “I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me.”

And then I spent a year and a half being her verbal punching bag every time she had a bad day because “I need to be understanding because she’s sick and she can’t help it.” And every time I decided I had had enough, she would chase me out the door, tearfully pleading for forgiveness and begging me to stay. And I did, because I thought I wanted to be in for the long haul, which meant not bailing out at the first sign of trouble. And also because I wanted a relationship so much that I was willing to get one at any cost. Even if the cost was my sanity and my self-worth.