I tap my foot anxiously as I sit in the waiting room of my therapist’s office. Jesse sets his hand on my leg, and I turn to him as he offers a warm yet subtle smile. He’s trying to reassure me, I figure…trying to let me know he’s here for me. He can’t realize how much I appreciate that he’s come all the way to San Diego to do this with me.

Because as put together as I’m trying to act about all this, the idea of facing these demons again, with someone other than Jesse…is fucking terrifying. There’s a strong part of me that would rather pretend that night—and my confession of that night—never happened. After all, that’s what I’ve programmed myself to do all these years.

When the receptionist asks Jesse to sign a consent form and for my payment, I find myself fumbling, struggling to pull it from my wallet.

I’m a mess.

I’m on edge, nervous, and I hardly got any sleep as I dwelled on the fact that this wasn’t going to be easy for me. I feel as if I could totally slip, lose control and have some sort of breakdown in an instant. It’s as though I’ve spent my life keeping a series of rubber bands tense, in the right place for me to function, and if I release them, they will snap away, maybe break, and the Eric I know will be gone.

“I’m here,” Jesse reminds me, and I need his reassurance, more now than ever, especially when he’s the only one who knows my secret.

I take deep breaths, the way Michelle’s taught me to, but only within the context of what she’s always believed has been general anxiety.

The door to the back office opens, and Michelle steps out. “Hi, Eric,” she says, and I grab Jesse’s hand and push to my feet, pulling him with me, partly because I fear if I don’t bring him with me, I’ll make him stay here…and partly because I really need him in this moment. But the way he joins me, without question or hesitation, gives me strength I know I wouldn’t have had if he weren’t here.

As we head toward the hallway leading back to her office, Jesse rests his hand on the small of my back. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s little movements like that, like when he set his hand on my leg, that soothe me. They remind me I’m not on my own.

It’s comforting and terrifying at the same time because now it’s not just my own mouth that the truth can come out of, but Jesse’s as well. Even though I know he would never say anything, that he would never violate my trust that way, it doesn’t keep the fear—irrational as it is—from being there.

Of course, since my experience with my uncle, I’ve had a lot of irrational thoughts I can’t seem to shake. They creep up on me at the most inopportune of moments, like when Jesse was going down on my ass when we were camping a few weeks ago.

Michelle greets us, very friendly and polite with Jesse as she guides us into her office, which is spacious, with a few plants and a sofa and a cushioned chair. She asks us to sit as she takes a seat in the cushioned chair beside the sofa we sit on together.

“How have you been, Eric? I was surprised to see you wanted to have someone join us today. Since you brought Jesse, we can set aside where we left off in our last session and come back to it later. Was there something in particular you were interested in discussing?”

The truth isn’t written all over my face? Surely, she has to be able to see exactly what my issue is. I’ve always felt like in some ways it was somehow marked on my body and people could sense what happened to me. That any slight weakness I revealed to Michelle told her too much, even though she’s never given me any reason to believe she’s caught on to my real issue.

Jesse keeps his hands to himself. Maybe because he doesn’t think holding my hand is appropriate right now, but really, that’s what I want—what I need.

“Maybe we should start with Jesse,” I say. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Congratulations,” Michelle says with a smile. “It’s great to meet you, Jesse. It’s been some time since you’ve discussed seeing anyone, so I’m glad to know you’re at a place where you’re comfortable entering into a new relationship. How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

“A few months. We met in Puerto Vallarta in January.”

This is something I knew would have to come out as well—that I’ve seen her since Jesse and I started seeing each other and haven’t mentioned the whole I’ve-been-screwing-my-son’s-friend issue. I may be self-aware enough to know I need a therapist, but that doesn’t mean I’m any good at actually getting help for my issues.

“I remember when you went on that trip,” she says as though I haven’t left out an important element from all that. “How is everything going between the two of you? Is there anything you’d care to discuss?”

“It’s a little more complicated than just us seeing each other.”

Jesse takes my hand, and I inhale for some much-needed air before getting this out of my system. “Jesse was down in Puerto Vallarta in my condo with my son. Not with my son like that. He was there as a friend.” Goddammit, I can hardly get to the real issue if I’m fumbling over stupid shit. But I press on, explaining how things started up, letting the whole deal unfold until the final confrontation with Ty and our subsequent chat that went so much better.

“Oh? Can you tell me anything else about that?” she asks, though I can tell she’s clearly trying to act very cool about the situation.

“So one thing led to another, and then…”

She waits for me to finish my sentence, but I don’t.

“I’m sure that was a relief, getting all that off your chest with Ty. Jesse, how about you? How have you felt about everything that’s happened so far?”

Jesse’s eyebrows rise as he seems surprised that Michelle’s directing attention his way. “Well, I knew it wasn’t going to be a great reaction, but...um...it was time. We’d been sort of lying to ourselves about how far we’d gotten, how much we’d felt for each other, and by the time we got to that, it was a little too late.”

“And how do you feel about where things are at between you and Ty?” she asks.

He thinks long and hard before responding. “Not great.” He chuckles, but clearly not because anything’s funny. Because everything about us is so fucked up.

“I want my friend back, but I want Eric too...and that’s complicated.”

“It sounds like you’re both feeling frustrated about where things are at with Ty. Eric, I’d like to talk some about what you want out of your relationship with Ty and also what you want for Jesse’s friendship.”

“If only it were that easy. Jesus, I feel like I’m so fucking confused by all this that I can’t even get to that part of it.” I try to humor her, though. At least give her something to work off. “Us to all be one big happy family, I guess.” I roll my eyes because those words sound so convoluted. I take a long sigh, reflecting on her question. “I want a relationship with my son. And I think I have more reason to hope for one now than I ever have before. And I want him to be happy. I don’t want to be the reason he lost his best friend.”

“From what you said before, it sounds like Ty is interested in working through things with both of you, so how are you planning to approach your individual relationships?”

“I don’t know yet. Seems like I really fucked up.”

“It presents some challenges, naturally. How do you feel about those?”

“Can we cut it with the rational conversation bullshit? I’m in a relationship with my son’s best friend. How is that supposed to make things easier for us?” I shake my head. “I mean, come on. You can just admit that this is a messed-up situation.”

“Eric, this is a difficult subject to discuss, and I can tell you’re frustrated and annoyed right now, and maybe feeling concerned about judgment from me. But I can assure you that I have seen weirder situations than this, and I’m here to help. Now, I’m going to ask a question, and you answer honestly. And I’ve asked it before, so humor me. Do you believe Ty wants to have a relationship with you?”

I hesitate, but Jesse spits out, “Yes.”

Michelle’s gaze shifts to him. “That was a very assertive reply. Why do you say it like that, Jesse?”

“I’ve known Ty for a very long time, and he’s mad, he’s hurt, but he cares about his father and his relationship with his father.”

Jesse’s said that so many times since I’ve known him, and as much as he speaks the words, it doesn’t change that I feel like it can’t be true, that there’s no way Ty could behave as he does around me—keeping his distance and, every time I push, pushing back harder—and really want a relationship.

“Eric,” Michelle says, “how do you feel when Jesse says that?”

“I don’t know that I entirely believe it’s true.” Although, as I reflect on it, I know how crazy I must sound. “At the same time, I can’t imagine why Ty would have even talked to me after all this happened if he didn’t.”

“Yes! Let’s explore that some more. How do you feel this lines up with some of the thinking errors you’ve identified in our work together?”

I’m irritated that she’s bringing up these stupid thinking errors that we’ve discussed plenty of times before. I know this is the whole point of therapy, but I don’t have to like it. “Maybe mind reading, a little.” I acknowledge, especially when it comes to Ty, that my biggest fault has always been assuming I know what he’s thinking, how he’s judging me for anything I do.

“It’s just, Michelle, how can he ever really forgive me for this?”

She’s about to say something, but I beat her to the punch. “I know that’s the whole issue with mind reading. I’m assuming he can’t forgive me for this. Maybe because I don’t feel like I would ever forgive someone who did that to me.”

It hits me hard, and it’s something I recognized as I sat on Ty’s couch with him, chatting after all the bullshit.

“I don’t think I could do that,” I say.

“It does sound like you are engaging in some mind reading, and that’s definitely something I want to explore further with you, but just as much, I think this goes much deeper, dealing with a core issue you have with feeling like you’re not worthy of love, specifically Ty’s love in this case. You haven’t been willing to do much work on this in the past, I know, but this is the hard work of therapy. If you’re open to it, I have some homework that might help, which you can bring in for our next session. Your responses will help us come up with a plan with realistic goals and steps toward helping build your relationship with Ty. We can dedicate the next few sessions to this, if you’d like. In the past, you haven’t been very receptive to this approach, but I do believe it’s something that will be really useful for you, especially with how you approach your career goals.”

She talks me through my homework, more bullshit worksheets. While some have helped me in the past, I don’t always see the value in them...or maybe I just don’t want to because they make me so goddamned uncomfortable. After some more discussion around how to approach my situation with Ty and how I can respect Ty and Jesse’s relationship, I’m starting to get uneasy, fidgeting around in my seat since we haven’t even gotten to the very reason I’m really here today.

“You seem agitated right now, Eric,” Michelle says. “Is there anything else you’d care to discuss or is there something about what we’ve talked about that’s making you uneasy?”

Jesse takes my hand and squeezes gently, urging me on—something I need right now.

I look to him. I can tell he’s not going to push too hard, but that he knows it’s what’s best.

“There is something,” I admit.

Michelle perks up. “Yes? I’m listening.”

“I… I…” I stammer because I don’t want to get this out. There’s still this part of me that would love nothing more than to keep this close to my chest. I feel safe when it isn’t out in the open where I can become vulnerable or someone would know my weakness, my pain.

“I had an experience when I was younger, a very painful experience.”

I’m dancing around it, but it’s the only way I feel I can get there. I open my mouth but stop myself. I stare blankly forward. I can’t go further with the story. This isn’t like that night when I was in Jesse’s arms, when I felt like I could say it. This feels oppressive, painful, as though my entire world will be ripped apart if I speak the truth.

I try to speak again. Nothing comes out, and I curl forward, shaking slightly.

Jesse hooks an arm around me over my shoulder, pulling me close to him. I want to break down. I want to cry, yet that’s weak too. Michelle’s acting so calm and patient, and finally says, “It’s all right, Eric. Let’s focus on using some calming breaths. Whatever you have to say, it stays right here.”

“Would it be better if I leave?” Jesse asks.

“No, I need you here. Please don’t leave me.” It reminds me of when he almost walked out of my condo, that feeling, the idea of not having him in my life, so painful to my very core. The thought of losing him—the thought of not having him here to help me—I can’t bear that. It’s even worse in this moment when I feel like if I totally lose it, the one person who will be there to make sure I’m all right is Jesse. I almost wish he would say it for me, but I know that’s a coward’s way out.

I won’t be a coward, not anymore. I survived saying it once. I can say it again.

Say it, goddammit.

“I was attacked by my uncle when I was very young…sixteen.”

Michelle waits a moment…and then another, surely expecting me to go on, but does she realize what a big step that was for me?

“I’m so sorry to hear that happened to you, Eric. Can you tell me what you mean by attacked?”

It’s as though she’s patronizing me, not meaning to, but dancing around it like she already knows, so I spit out, “He put his cock in me.”

The moment I say that, my face flashes with heat, and I hide it in my hands.

I don’t want to look at either of them. I turn to Jesse. I want to curl up into him, I want him to hold me, and he pulls me close, and as he does I fall against him, my head against his shoulder, shaking, trembling. I need him right here, need him close.

“God-fucking-damn it,” I mutter against him.

“Eric,” Michelle says. “I’m so very sorry this happened to you. Thank you for sharing what was clearly a very difficult part of your life.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“That’s all right. Sexual assault happens more than most care to acknowledge. And even using the terms sexual assault…or rape can be very difficult for people, especially survivors.”

I don’t know why I’m so determined to say it. She already fucking knows the truth, and it still feels like pulling teeth to try and get that word out of my mouth because of what I associate it with, because of the stigmas and my own feelings of what that means—that I’m weak, that I’m still that fucking kid who couldn’t beat the shit out of my uncle and keep him from doing what he did.

“I was…raped.” The final word is strained, a whisper almost unable to escape my lips. It’s out there now, and the tears well in my eyes because I feel once again so vulnerable.

“Thank you for sharing that, Eric,” Michelle says. “This sounds like something that’s been weighing on you for some time. Am I right in assuming that you haven’t told very many people about this experience?”

“Not until Jesse,” I admit.

Haven’t done a lot of things until him.

“Well, you’re safe here, and it’s very clear that you have a good support system from someone you obviously feel you were able to trust with this.”

She talks to me about how it’s not my job to explore it all in this moment, and that any area of it needs to be explored as I feel comfortable with that. She offers me various reassurances. I can tell she’s trying to soothe me, especially as she guides me through a relaxation exercise to help relax me from the discomfort that confession activated within me.

“Eric, I’m really impressed with you for sharing this today,” she tells me after I’ve started to calm down. “Unfortunately, trauma, which is what I would call this, isn’t my area of expertise. While I can certainly help, you could benefit from working with a practitioner who specializes in trauma, especially as I see how much it’s affecting you. Would you be open to a possible recommendation to another therapist?”

Great. She can’t even fucking help me. Although, I have to admit, telling her, and hearing her calm reaction, have felt like relief. It’s not as intense as that ease I felt when I spoke to Jesse about it that first time, but the relief is still palpable.

“I would be open to that,” I say. “But honestly, I would prefer to see someone in Atlanta right now. I want to spend as much time as I can there. With Jesse and for Ty.”

“That’s totally understandable and makes this a much better option anyway because the sort of intensive work you would need to do shouldn’t really be done long-distance. If you are comfortable with it, I’ll look to see if I can find a good recommendation of someone in Atlanta who specializes in trauma-based treatment? I want to consult some of my colleagues to make sure I can connect you with someone who can help you. In the meantime, we could schedule teletherapy sessions together so that we could discuss things that way, for a while at least to keep exploring other areas that you’re working on...like with Ty.”

“I would like that a lot,” I say, feeling relief that she’s working with me, helping me find a practical solution.

We chat some more. She keeps asking me how I’m feeling, checking in to make sure I’ve come back into my own. I manage to even ease up a little.

“You’ve taken a big first step,” Michelle says as we come to the end of our session. “Don’t underestimate that, Eric. That can be one of the hardest things for a rape survivor to do.”

I note her use of the word survivor. I’ve heard that before, but for some reason, every time I think rape, I think victim.

“That said,” she adds, “I would like to bear in mind that, even though your pain is very real, that event is not the sole defining moment of it by any means. I want you to walk away from today’s session knowing that, at the very least, you’re on the path toward healing and living a more fulfilling life.”

I nod.

Mostly I don’t believe it…mostly I feel like I’m that sixteen-year-old boy sitting here in her office, and like a failure because all these years, when I have been thinking I’ve been in control and powerful and taking over in the business world, I was still a kid, running scared, afraid…and so fucking hurt.