Page 110 of Terms of Exposure
"Interesting," she nodded. "Can you elaborate further?"
"What she needs is to have that pressure released from her shoulders."
"And how do you know that?" she countered gently.
"Because I see it now. The light is returning day by day. Each thing I lift from her shoulders and carry on mine—she shines brighter."
She turned back to me. "And how does that make you feel?"
I opened my mouth to fight. To argue that I didn't want him to carry it alone. That I could handle it as well.
But wasn't he right?
Hadn't I been happier with him, since we started this whole thing together, than I was before?
Lighter? Looser? More carefree?
"Guilty," I admitted.
His brows knitted. "Guilty?"
I nodded.
"Why would you feel guilty?"
I shrugged. "I used to do it all myself. Shouldn't I at least do half?"
"No," Damien said, shaking his head. "No, you shouldn't."
My eyes narrowed. "But I can."
"But you don't have to," he said, an edge creeping in.
"Everyone pause," Dr. Raines said, holding her hands up like a referee.
We each closed our mouths, her hands dropping inch by inch.
"Damien," she said finally. "That got you pretty worked up, didn't it?"
"Of course it did. She wants to add stress back into her life just because she feels—"
"No." Dr. Raines shook her head. "That wasn't what she was saying at all."
Damien's face scrunched.
She turned to me. "Emma, do you mind repeating what you said earlier?"
I shifted in my seat. "I said I felt guilty."
"Exactly," Dr. Raines said, turning back to Damien. "She is talking about feelings. You are talking about actions."
Damien blinked. "I don't understand the difference."
"Emma's not asking you to stop," Dr. Raines clarified. "She's naming the discomfort that comes with receiving care."
He turned to me. "You don't actually want me to stop?"
"No," I admitted. "The rules, the structure—it's helping. It really is."
