“I think we need to talk a little more about this woman you’re seeing.”

I guess Harry isn’t the only one who’s concerned about my arrangement with Rebecca. I’m sitting in my therapist’s office for our next session, and I can see the worry on Michael’s face as he sits across from me.

I shrug my shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to explore a little further why you’re attracted to her?” Michael begins. “Are you truly seeing this woman for who she is? What characteristics does she have that remind you of Ashley?”

As Michael waits for a response, I straighten up in my chair and debate how to answer. I realize I can’t dance around this issue with my therapist any longer. I really don’t want to have another conversation with him about politics, which is how we ended our last session. I hate politics. And it’s also sort of ridiculous to be lying to your therapist when you’re paying for the sessions. Besides, everything between Michael and I is strictly confidential, so I don’t have to worry about him telling anyone else about my strange arrangement. I decide to tell him the truth about Rebecca.

As I give Michael all the details, the look on his face grows more serious and grave.

“She even dyed her hair the same color?” he asks

I nod.

“And you’re paying her $200,000 to pretend to be Ashley?”

I nod again.

Michael furiously jots down some notes and then puts his notepad and pen to the side. He looks at me and slowly sighs. “This isn’t healthy, Jackson.”

“Is being suicidally depressed any better?” I ask somewhat sarcastically. “Before this arrangement, you had me on a bunch of pills that did nothing to improve my mood. And even though I was seeing you every week – talking nonstop about my feelings – I still couldn’t paint or even face the day without a tremendous sense of dread. All I know,” I tell him, my voice strong and firm. “Is that since I started this arrangement with Rebecca, I’m happy and excited. I’m also working again. So, I’m not sure what your definition of healthy is?”

Michael shakes his head in disbelief. “Your relationship with this woman isn’t real, Jackson. You’ve created an illusion for yourself to cope with your sense of loss. At some point, you’re going to have to accept reality. Ashley is gone. But you’re still here. You have to keep moving forward with your life.”

“Don’t talk to me about reality,” I reply, angrily getting up from my chair. “Nobody lives in fucking reality anymore. People see what they want to see. Everyone is glued to their cell phones, not paying attention to the people around them, obsessed with their Facebook or Instagram account. None of that shit is real.”

“That’s not a reasonable argument,” criticizes Michael.

“We don’t live in a reasonable world,” I shout back. “You keep telling me to live in reality, but reality sucks. We live in a society where you can eat anything you want, watch anything you want, communicate with anyone you want, but everyone I see is still fucking miserable. Who wants to live in a world like this? I’d rather live in the world I’ve created.”

Michael leans back in his chair and keeps staring at me in disbelief. “What’s the end game here, Jackson? How long will this charade go on for?”

“Until my gallery opening,” I inform him.

“And you think it’s going to be that easy for you to let this girl Rebecca go?”

“Sure,” I reply with a shrug – although I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t want to because I love having Ashley back in my life again. I love reliving those honest real moments with her.

“As a trained medical professional, I’m telling you, Jackson, that this isn’t going to end well. It’s not healthy for you or for this young girl.”

I stare at him, angry and annoyed. I’m tired of people like Michael and Harry telling me what makes me happy isn’t healthy.

“If that’s how you feel, Michael, then maybe it doesn’t make sense for me to see you anymore,” I declare. “Consider this our last session.”

I turn and leave. As I walk out of his office and take the elevator back to the lobby, I’m not only angry but extremely frustrated.

Why does everyone want me to live in reality? All the real world has done for me these last several months is caused me nothing but pain.