Page 128 of Disarm
I blink fast because tears are starting to gather.
“Also,” she adds, “I would be very surprised if any competent therapist listened to Miguel talk for five minutes and then said, ‘You know, the problem here is that you care too much about your traumatized partner. Dump him.’”
A startled, half-sob laugh snorts out of me. “You don’t even know him,” I say. “You’re already on his side.”
“I know what you’ve told me about him,” she says. “And I know you. That’s enough to trust that this relationship, while complex, is deeply important and deeply mutual. That doesn’t make it automatically healthy in every single way. It makes it worth working on, not throwing away.”
I stare at the carpet until the pattern blurs. “Can I ask you something?” I say finally.
“Of course,” she says.
“If you—” My voice cracks. “If you thought this was… irreparably messed up. He and I. Would you tell me?”
She considers me, her gaze steady. “Yes,” she says. “I would. I would never say it in a way that left you alone with that, but I wouldn’t lie to you to protect your feelings.”
My heart stutters. “And you haven’t,” I say slowly.
“I have concerns,” she says. “We’ve talked about some of them—weight of responsibility, intensity, the way you both sometimes equate ‘love’ with ‘emergency response.’ But I don’t see this as some doomed, catastrophic situation that needs to be shut down. I see two people who love each other very much, both carrying a lot of history, trying to figure out how to do this without losing themselves.”
She leans forward a little. “That is messy. It is also very human.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
She nods. “Now, about your father wanting to talk to both of you,” she says. “How do you feel about that?”
“Terrified,” I say immediately. “And also… weirdly relieved? Like, if he’s willing to sit in the same conversation as Miguel and not pretend he doesn’t exist, that’s… something. But I also feel like I’m walking him into an interrogation.”
“What does Miguel think about it?” she asks.
“He said he’ll do it,” I say. “Phone, in person, whatever. He said he’ll be respectful, but he’s not going to act like we’re something I’ll ‘grow out of.’ He’s… so calm about it. I’m the one losing my shit.”
“Is he calm,” she asks, “or is he containing his fear so you don’t have to carry it too?”
Ouch.I didn’t even consider that.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Probably both. That’s… kind of his thing.”
“Is there a world,” she says slowly, “where you let yourself be a support for him, too? Instead of only the other way around?”
Guilt pricks. “He has his mom,” I say. “He has his crew. He has?—”
“He also has you,” she cuts in gently. “And while it is not your job to fix his feelings, mutual vulnerability is a key piece of a healthy partnership. You being honest with him and him being honest with you is vital. That includes fears about your father. About therapy. About the future.”
Pushing my hands through my hair, I let out a breath. “I don’t want to add to his load,” I say. “He already has so much of me in his hands.”
“Then part of the work,” she says, “is learning how to share the load instead of handing it all to him. Trusting that he can hold pieces of your fear without breaking… and trusting that you can hold pieces of his.”
I stare at her. “That sounds… really hard.”
She smiles a little. “Most worthwhile things are.”
“Here’s what I’d like to suggest,” she says. “One, we plan for you to have a session where Miguel joins us, if he’s willing. A space where we can talk about support, boundaries, and fears with a mediator present. Not this week. Not as a surprise. When you both feel ready.”
My stomach flips. “Okay,” I say, voice faint.
“Two,” she continues, “you and Miguel talk—gently—about how you want to handle this upcoming conversation with your father. What your limits are. What you’re willing to answer and what is off the table. We can even write it down if that helps.”
“And three,” she says, “I’d like you to consider the idea that your father’s reaction yesterday, while imperfect, was a beginning, not a verdict. Can you hold that possibility? Not as a certainty. Just as… one option among many.”
