Carson
The counselor’s office was a lot smaller than I’d expected. I was sitting on a loveseat, and the counselor was across from me in an armchair, only a few feet separating us.
“We’re making do with less space while some of our offices are being remodeled,” he said, seeming to read my thoughts as I scanned the room.
“So you didn’t paint your office light purple?” I arched my brows as I glanced at the walls.
He laughed and shook his head. “No. Definitely not. This is just a temporary office. If we were in my office, you’d be able to see my collection of beer steins.”
I nodded my appreciation.
“I was stationed in Germany for a couple of years,” he explained.
“Nice.”
“I did time in the desert, too.”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. Why did it fill me with dread that he was a veteran who had served in active combat? When I’d called the counseling center for an appointment, they’d interviewed me over the phone and automatically assigned me to the guy who worked with vets.
“No offense, Gary,” I said, looking up at him, “but I don’t feel a camaraderie or anything. I appreciate that you served, and I know you get it in a lot of ways, you know, what it’s like over there. And I think it’s great that you work with guys who have PTSD after being in that shitstorm.”
“Women too.”
I nodded. “Of course, women too. Sorry. There were all guys in my unit, so I just always say that.”
“I don’t know what your experience was like.” Gary crosses a foot over his knee. “And I’m not here to tell you about mine. I’m just here to listen.”
“Why does everyone assume all vets have PTSD?” I looked down at the worn gray carpet at my feet. “Just because I’m a vet, I get assigned to the PTSD guy.”
“I’m not assuming that. And you’re not the only veteran who resents that assumption.”
I shook my head. “Like I said, it was a shitstorm. We all knew that going in. But I went back when I didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have done that if it was fucking my head up. And I came back both times, which makes me a hell of a lot luckier than others.”
“Do you feel like the same man who went over there? Did your experiences stay with you in any way?”
I sighed heavily as I sat up. “No, I’m not the same man who went over there. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about . . . well, lots of things.”
Gary said nothing, and the silence hung until I looked at him. He was maybe fifty years old, with short gray hair and a clean-shaven face. I saw the former soldier in him.
“What brought you here, Carson?” he asked.
There was something about his tone that put me slightly at ease. Maybe it was that he sounded genuinely interested. Or maybe it was his soft tone, which told me there was no wrong answer to this question.
After a few seconds of silence, I spoke. “I’m fucking up my relationship with my girlfriend.”
Gary just nodded.
“Is it okay if I say fuck in here?”
A smile tugged on the corners of his lips. “You can say anything you want in here, as long as you don’t talk shit about my New York Yankees.”
I rubbed my sweaty palms across my thighs, sighing again. “I’m not great at talking about things. Especially feelings and shit.”
“You’re doing fine so far. Why don’t you tell me more about your girlfriend?”
“Her name’s Joss.” My shoulders relaxed as I pictured her. “She’s . . . everything. Beautiful, smart, funny. Joss is way too good for me, but for some reason, she wants to be with me.”
“How long have you two been together?”
“Almost three months. We met at work. I do electrical maintenance at Tulane Medical, and she’s a doctor there.”
Gary nodded. “And how have things been between you during that time?”
“Overall, it’s been great. We kind of had a fight when I told her I’m not sure I want kids, but we moved on from that. But then recently we went to this fundraiser, where her dickhead ex-husband outbid me on some cookies I wanted to buy her.”
“And that created tension between you and Joss?”
I nodded and looked over at Gary’s lilac-colored office wall. “You could say that, yeah.”
“Tell me more about that.”
“Well, her ex is a doctor, too. He’s loaded, and he wants her back.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I narrowed my eyes at Gary in a glare. “Yeah, I’m sure. He’s made it obvious.”
“And does Joss want to be with him, too?”
I replayed my argument with Joss a couple of days ago. When she’d lied to me about the flowers and told me she didn’t want Dean. “She says she doesn’t.”
“And do you believe her?” Gary prompted.
“I want to, but . . .” I shook my head. “I went to work things out with her the other night, and there were flowers on the desk. I asked about them, and she told me they were from her friend. But then her friend walked by, and I found out they were actually for Joss and her ex had sent them. She lied to me.”
“And did you ask her about that?”
I nodded. “She said she lied because she knew I’d blow up over it and she doesn’t want him. She wants me.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I do, but that’s not the point. It doesn’t make lying to me okay. My ex-fiancée lied to me for more than a year about banging some other guy.” My shoulders tensed once again.
“Was Joss right? Would you have blown up about it?”
“Hell yeah, I would have,” I said, louder than necessary. “That douchebag’s got no right sending flowers to my girlfriend.”
“So what happened after you fought about it?”
“Nothing, I guess. I left, and we haven’t spoken since.”
A few seconds of silence passed before Gary said, “You said you were here because you think you’re fucking up the relationship. But do you place some of the blame on Joss for lying?”
“I guess. I mean . . . yeah.” I shifted on the couch, uncomfortable in the tiny office. “But if I’m being completely honest, I think the underlying problem in our relationship is . . . me.”
Gary furrowed his brow. “How so?”
“I don’t sleep well. I’m angry sometimes for no reason. I have trust issues. And Joss . . .” I shook my head. “If anyone has a right to have trust issues, it’s her. Her dickhead ex cheated on her with a nurse from the hospital, and she was the last to know. If I were her . . . I’d be so cynical.”
“But she isn’t?”
“No. She’s . . . Joss is like a ray of sunshine. Not that she’s cheery all the time, because”—my lips turned up in a smile—“she’s got a wicked sense of humor and she has her moods, like we all do. But when she looks at me, it’s like stepping into the sunlight. Her smile lights me up, if that makes any sense.”
“You love her.” Gary’s words are a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, I do. I love her.”
“And it sounds like you see that your issues with sleeping and anger have nothing to do with her.”
I nod. “They have nothing to do with her, no.”
“What about your issues trusting? Have you been let down by others in the past? You mentioned your ex-fiancée, but have there also been others?”
My laugh was humorless. “Yeah, you could say that. My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad was a deadbeat. I couldn’t wait to get the hell away from him.”
“Do you think some of the anger stems from those things?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Have you talked to Joss about your parents?”
“Not much. She’s got normal parents and a normal life. I don’t want to seem like a fuckup.”
Gary leaned forward in his chair, his brows low. “Your mom dying and your dad being a deadbeat do not make you a fuckup, Carson.”
I looked down, my shoulders tensing and my throat tightening. “You know what I mean. I don’t want to sound . . . dysfunctional. Even though I am. She’s a doctor, and I’m a pissed-off veteran. The cards are already stacked against us.”
“Are they really, though? Or is that just what you tell yourself so that it won’t hurt so much if it doesn’t work out?”
Slowly, I raised my eyes to his. The fucker was a lot more insightful than I’d expected him to be.
“Carson, how would you feel if the relationship between you and Joss ended?”
My chest caved in at just the thought. “I’d be devastated. I never thought anyone like Joss would love me, but she does . . . or did, and . . .”
“Do you think you deserve her love?”
I huffed out a breath of frustration. “What does that even mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“No, I don’t feel like I deserve it.” I couldn’t even look at Gary as I said the words, because my throat was tight with emotion.
“I think you need to tell her that. Communication in a relationship only works if you’re communicating the truth.”
I nodded, turning from the purple wall to Gary. “So you’re telling me to lay it all out there? All at once?”
“All of it. Write her a letter if you don’t feel like you can say it.”
I searched the room for a clock. “Has it been an hour yet?”
Gary laughed and reached for the clipboard on the table beside him. “We can wrap up here if you’d like.”
“Yeah, I would. I mean, not that you didn’t do a good job or anything, I just . . .”
“You have a lot to process. I understand.”
“So”—I stood up, and he followed—“do I need to come back?”
“I’d like to continue seeing you. Weekly, if that’s okay.”
“Weekly? So I’m super fucked up, then?”
Gary smiled. “No. But I’d like us to talk more about your anger and the sleeping problems you’re having. And Joss, too. Maybe we can get to the bottom of some of these things.”
“Yeah. That would be good.”
Gary passed me a folder. “This has my card in it. My cell number is on there. If you’re having a hard time, call me. Anytime.”
“What, you mean like . . . ? I’m not planning on killing myself.”
“I’m not saying you are. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me. I don’t just do this job for money.”
I nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
“Hope to see you again next week.” He reached out a hand, and I shook it.
“Yeah, I’ll be here.”
I left his office and headed for the front desk of the clinic, the sound of hammers sounding in the hallway as construction workers put up framing somewhere in the building.
Talking wasn’t my thing, especially when it was about feelings. But I’d realized I needed help fixing things with Joss. And my session with Gary hadn’t been as shitty as I’d figured it would be. After I made my copay and walked out of the clinic, I realized I actually felt a little lighter.
There was only one person I wanted to tell I’d been here. And it was just one of many things I needed to tell her.