Page 24 of Run To You
“Not at all. I feel good on them.”
“Perfect. We’ll keep checking in and adjust accordingly. Just remember, it’s possible that when you feel better, you may want to stop the meds.”
“I won’t.”
Dr. Chen smiles. “You will, Sloane. It’s extremely common. All I ask is that you call me when you think you are ‘well enough’ to stop the medication.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Great. Let’s get back to Eden and her message.”
Shuffling in my chair, I give myself a second to calm my heart. It’s a physical response to her name, and it’s both exhilarating and panic-inducing.
“I asked her if she’d meet up with me when she’s ready. Then after I left the lookout, I got a message from her asking me to go for coffee. Later on, she changed the offer to a walk.”
Dr. Chen’s eyes reflect her understanding. Walking is more than the action for Eden and I. Walking is how we became Eden and Sloane. It was on those—sometimes painful—walks where I got to know who Eden was after crushing on her for years.
“Did you answer the second message?”
Shaking my head, I drop my gaze. “No, because I’m scared of reading too much into it.”
“Say your feelings out loud, Sloane.”
“I’m afraid she’s going to tell me she hates me. I know she’s already said that’s not the case, but she’s had time to think now.”
“It’s a risk,” Dr. Chen states. “Do you think it’s a risk worth taking?”
Huffing out a laugh, I look back at my therapist. “Everything that involves Eden is worth it. I know that now as much as I did when I finally plucked up the courage to talk to her in the gym five years ago.”
“And how does that thought pattern influence your decision to meet her for a walk?”
“I know I’ll meet her for a walk. The calming techniques will come into use to help me stay present when I see her again.”
“You’re doing mindfulness and journaling, yes?”
“Yes. Both are proving to be really useful.”
“Excellent. Well, we’re coming to the end of our session. Are you okay with sticking to weekly appointments for now?”
“Totally. When I’m really settled and have gotten over the biggest humps with regards to my friends, I might feel ready to knock the sessions to bi-weekly.”
“I agree. You’re doing the work, Sloane, and it’s paying off. Just remember this is a day-by-day situation. It’s okay if you have a bad day. It’s okay to step back and reassess what you need.”
“Thanks, Dr. Chen. I’ll keep that in mind.”
We say our goodbyes and log off. I exhale, then inhale, then check my breathing for signs of “rapid, shallow patterns” like Dr. Chen asked me to track. It’s normal, if normal means the same old lead weight that forms whenever I try to act like a person who can text another human being without running five disaster scenarios first.
Case in point: Eden’s message waits like a loaded starter pistol in my phone’s notification bar. I haven’t responded. It’s been hours. She’ll think I’m ghosting her again, or hiding in bed, covered with ten duvets like a vampire hiding from the light. Either way, if I don’t answer soon Bella will start texting, too. She has a sixth sense for unresolved drama, and although Becca has welcomed me back with open arms, I can’t guarantee Bella will.
I open the message and start typing a reply, then delete the first attempt. It’s too casual, like I’ve been cool andunbothered all this time. The second attempt gets halfway before I realize it reads more like an email. The third, I try something new. Honesty. It’s what Dr. Chen has been drilling into me every session, whether it’s honesty with myself or the people in my sphere who love me and would want to know what I’m feeling. I leave the message on the screen, thumb hovering over the send button.
You
I’d really like to. But if you want to bail at any time, I’ll totally get it.
It’s…not great, but better than the passive-aggressive self-flagellation my brain wants to default to. I hit send before I can chicken out, then watch the three dots pop up and disappear repeatedly. The reply is almost instantaneous, like she was waiting with her phone in hand.
Eden
