Page 12 of In Every Lifetime
Sarah
“You need a new psychologist, Nate,” I said as I picked up around the living room, stacking discarded books in my arms and re-fluffing the throw pillows.
He shot me a glare with those blue eyes of his. “Why? I think our current arrangement is perfect.”
I gave him an incredulous look as I slid the books back onto the shelves. "It's unethical for us to continue our sessions now that we're friends, and I'm close with your family as well. I have colleagues who are just as qualified as I am, if not more so. They'd be thrilled to work with you."
“But what if I don’t want to?” he pouted.
"Go to therapy?" I asked, stretching onto my toes to reach the top shelf beside the fireplace.
I had managed to get the furniture back in place after our painting escapades and quickly learned it no longer matched the room. I had spent the last week finding new pieces and upcycling what I already had to match the space. It had gone wonderfully, and I was wrapping up the final touches, refilling my book and vinyl shelves. The new sheer, cream curtains were hanging overthe window, the wooden coffee table freshly stained a warm walnut tone that complemented the brick fireplace well. The room felt like a warm hug and an oasis away from the stresses of my day-to-day life and the quieter weight of my own mind and heart.
Nate rolled his eyes. “Of course I want to go to therapy. We both know I need it. I mean go to someone new.”
I turned to him, fists planted on my hips. “Do you want me to be your friend, or do you want me to be your psychologist? Because you only get one.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, sinking into the couch. “I’ll find a new doctor.”
"Good choice," I said with a smile, dropping into one of the armchairs across from him. "What do you think?" I gestured around the room.
"I like it. It's very blue," he said approvingly.
I barked a laugh. “It’s very blue? That’s all you have to say?”
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused. "The walls are blue."
I chuckled softly. “You’re such a man,” I mumbled under my breath.
Our conversation was cut off by a knock on the front door. Nate looked over his shoulder, confused. "Who do you know that would knock instead of just walking in?"
I stood and smoothed my cream sweater. "Everyone but your family knocks. It's a problem unique to you lot," I explained, crossing to the front door, though I was just as puzzled as he was. I wasn't expecting anyone, and most people who knew me well enough to show up at my home would have called ahead first, knowing I might be with a patient.
My best guess was that I had ordered something after a glass… or two of wine and completely forgotten about it. I pulled the door open, braced to face my late-night purchase and assess thedamage to my bank account, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
Fai stood at the edge of my porch in a worn black hoodie layered under a jean jacket, a ball cap pulled low over his hair, and jeans I could have sworn he had owned for a decade. He was holding a tray of coffees and looking at me nervously, his eyes full of hope and wariness in equal measure, as though he was afraid to be hopeful, afraid I would turn him away or shut the door without a word.
"Hi." His voice was soft but steady, rich in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
I took a slow breath in.
“Hi,” I said on an exhale.
"Who's here?" Nate called from behind me. I felt him step up to my side, then go still when he saw Fai. "Oh." His tone turned serious. "If he's staying, I'll head out."
“I can just come back later,” Fai offered, pointing over his shoulder toward his blue two-door truck parked on the street.
Nate shook his head and grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. “It’s fine.” He gave me a fast kiss on the cheek and shouldered past Fai as he stepped off the front porch, pausing at the bottom of the steps to turn back and mouth, "You good?"
I nodded, and Nate accepted that, turning and heading down the driveway. With anyone else I might have worried about them walking home in the rain, but Nate knew these streets like the back of his hand.
I turned back to Fai, who looked a little deflated by Nate's cool reception. "What are you doing here?"
He let out a long, tired sigh. "It's quite the story. But mostly I was hoping you had my birth certificate."
I was taken aback by the request but nodded, knowing it was in my safe. I stepped aside, inviting him in.
Out of an old habit, I caught myself subtly checking for the smell of alcohol as he stepped past. Even when he hadn't smelled like alcohol, he used to carry the faint scent of his favorite bar. What I found instead stopped me. He smelled clean, like detergent and the amber and vanilla shampoo he had been using since we first moved in together, when he discovered you could have separate shampoo and conditioner instead of that two-in-one stuff. He had used it for the entire length of our marriage.
