Surrender to More

by Rachel De Lune

  “Okay then, Jess. Did you want to start by telling me why you made the appointment?” Dr. Cross takes a seat in the chair next to the sofa, a warm and open smile on her face. I can see why Izzy thought she was easy to talk to. She looks comfortable, at ease within herself. I could never imagine her holding any ill will or judgement against anyone.

  “Well, a friend of mine recommended you. I’ve been… confused over my feelings, and she thought talking to you might help to clarify them for me.”

  “Okay. Please understand that each individual patient has different needs, and I will work to help you find the solutions to yours. If you want to expand on the reason you’re feeling confused over your feelings, and what they are in particular, we can take it from there.” Another warm smile graces her face and I take a moment to order my thoughts. I’ve taken the hardest step. I’m here, ready to gain some sense of direction that will stop me from feeling so lost.

  “I don’t really do commitment when it comes to relationships, and the last guy I was seeing was pushing for something more permanent. I had always made it clear where I stood, but he seemed to feel he was the exception.” I pause to see if Dr. Cross will ask anything. She doesn’t and silence fills the air.

  “Has your aversion to commitment impacted your everyday life?”

  “Umm, up until a friend’s wedding, I would have said no.”

  “So the wedding has been the catalyst for your current feelings?”

  “Yeah.” I look up towards the wall and scan for a clock. I could feel my skin on my neck prickle with every new question. “Seeing her so happy, so fulfilled, so in love, made me wonder if I’d really considered the consequences to my actions.”

  “And what are the consequences?”

  “I don’t want a serious relationship, but I’m beginning to worry that I’ll end up alone. Iz..., I mean my friend’s marriage, was a wake-up call. I’m not under the impression I’m suddenly going to fall in love. But should I move forward, you know, in a relationship, if that’s the natural next step. Should I settle?”

  “Is there a reason you don’t commit in your relationships?”

  “Yes.” Just thinking about the why turns my blood cold. I let my eyes close and summon the strength to get through an abbreviated version of my heartache.

  “I was in love. Twice, actually. Pete broke my heart. I thought he was the one for me. After him, it took me a long time to trust another guy. I did. Daniel… well it turned out he wasn’t for me either.” I contemplate telling her, but can’t bring myself to admit the humiliation I felt. “After giving my heart away and having it returned in pieces, it was easier not to let my emotions get involved. That’s how I’ve protected myself.” I can’t feel like that again—that broken, utter sorrow that seeps into your very being and threatens to drown you. I wouldn’t let myself go through that again. I close my eyes and push down the pain that rises, still, after all these years.

  “Your past experiences have taught you that loving someone will result in pain. So you’ve avoided it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, and so now you’re worried about settling. Can you tell me what that means to you?”

  “Well, I’m not in love with Greg. But he’s nice. We have a good time and he wants to move in together. I know I won’t get another chance at love. I don’t know if it’s fair to move a relationship forward when I’m not emotionally attached. Or if I should settle for the good aspects that are there.”

  “Do you feel comfortable, picturing living like that?” As she asks me the question, my gut turns. I would be a total bitch if I did that to someone—lulled them into a permanent relationship when I had nothing to give them. If someone treated me with such little thought or consideration, I’d be furious.

  “Not really.” I sigh, deflated, but pleased I’m being honest with myself.

  “So, if you know you can’t settle, I want to work at getting you to open up in your relationships.”

  “I won’t be able to do that. I’m not prepared to be hurt like I have been.” I’m happy to talk to her, but there is no way I’m putting my heart on the line again.

  “Okay. Then perhaps we can talk about what you want to try to achieve. These sessions are about you. I’m not here to push you into something you don’t want. Perhaps you could tell me what you believe will make you happy?”

  “Who says I’m not happy?”

  “In my occupation, it’s unusual to see someone when they are truly happy.” Her innocent, welcoming smile begins to grate. I can’t get angry or frustrated with her. I’m finally at a point where I can look at all this stuff I’ve buried away. I blank out for a few minutes and run the conversation around in my mind.

  “Thank you, Dr. Cross.”

  “Please, call me Amanda. I think there are a few aspects we can talk through. I want you to understand this won’t be fixed in a single session. I can see that talking about this isn’t comfortable for you. I’d like for you to try and think about how you’re feeling and write it down in a journal. It will help to focus your thoughts and we can review them in your next session.”

  “A journal? Like a diary?” My scepticism rises at my homework.

  “Yes, if you like. Try to let your mind open up and write how you feel. This is only for you. No one else will see it.”

  “Okay,” I agree, reluctantly.

  “Jess, I already said this won’t be fixed overnight. We can have the sessions, but I think the journal will help.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do it, and I’ll come back. I need to.”

  Admitting I want to work on—or at least confront—my commitment issues, has left me agitated and restless.

  I stop at home long enough to change and then head out to the gym. I don’t frequent the overpriced studio enough to do my hips any good, but I try and get a good run in once a week. Having no permanent beau means I’m in complete control of my time. I work hard and focusing my efforts on career progression, rather than family, has resulted in my position as divisional HR manager for Almeno, which provides the means to pay for the overpriced gym studio I’m heading to.

  As my feet slap the rubber of a treadmill, the beats of Avicii drown out the memories that surfaced during my conversation with Dr. Cross. I push my legs to run faster. My chest starts to protest as my lungs struggle to pull in the oxygen I need. I know I can run further and faster than I have, so I wait for my body to adjust and settle into the rhythm. With every beat my foot makes, my mind clears. I welcome the sweat dampening my flushed skin and the heat that climbs my spine, spreading across my body.

  Out of nowhere, I picture gorgeous green eyes watching me. My mind takes over from where we left off in the waiting room, and I mentally conjure Dr. Clark pulling me flush against his body. His lips dip to the hollow of my neck, and he licks the sweat off my skin. My daydream blossoms into a full blown fantasy, and I hit the stop button on the treadmill before I fall over.

  My jelly-like legs carry me across to the water cooler where I attempt to cool off. Deep breath. Deep breath. I give up on the cardio and walk back to the changing room to have a cold shower. Fifteen minutes later I’m frazzled but heading back home. The handsome Dr. Clark still lingers in my thoughts all the way home.

  The restlessness that has been clinging to me is still there. The treadmill was supposed to rid my mood and my memories. It’s done neither. I throw my bag into the lounge as I pass on the way to the kitchen. I bypass the food in the fridge in favour of some liquid relief. I pour a large glass of white wine and drink half before making my way to the lounge and collapsing on the sofa.

  “Urghh,” I grumble to myself. “Snap out of it, Jess.” I dig my phone out of my bag and my night takes another tumble. The screen greets me with three missed calls and two texts from Greg. My head falls back against the sofa, and I lift my eyes to the ceiling and count to five.

  I swipe my finger across the screen and wait for the call to connect.

  “Hi, Jess. Thanks for calling
me back.”

  “Greg, I’m not sure what all of this is about. I thought I was clear with you.”

  “You were. Don’t worry. But, well… as I know where we stand now, I thought we could see each other casually.”

  “Are you serious? All we’ve been is casual.” I can’t believe what he’s saying. It must be another one of his plans to get me to change my mind.

  “Yes. Despite the differing of opinion, we had a good time. If it’s a choice between seeing you on your terms or nothing at all, I’ll choose your terms.” My heart tightens in my chest. Here is a great guy, who wants to get serious with me, and I’d rather run a mile in the other direction. Damn you Izzy and your wedding.

  “That wouldn’t be fair to you. You know how I feel.”

  “Come on, Jess. Think of it as friends with benefits.”

  I need my head examined. I know this isn’t the right decision to make.

  “Fine. Perhaps we can go to dinner. Izzy has a thing and suggested you come with me.”

  “Great. It’s a date. Let me know the details.” His chipper voice has me questioning my decision the moment I’d made it.

  “I will. Bye.” I end the call and toss the phone onto the coffee table. I down the rest of the wine and get up to rummage in the kitchen. I’m about to un-do the minuscule number of calories I burned off at the gym by indulging in some much needed chocolate. I grab the bar of Godiva and pull the card open, revealing the rich, comforting goodness. I snap the bar and leave one half in the packet, returning it to it’s safe place. I bring the few squares with me into the lounge and pick up my phone.

  I’m bringing Greg to your dinner. I feel bad about it. He told me he’d rather have casual than nothing. I think I should have left things with him. Am I horrible? Jess

  No you’re not! You said you like him. Maybe things will happen with him? x

  Not her as well. I stop texting and tap her name.

  “Oh hey.” She answers all cheerily.

  “Izzy, you know I love you right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because you’re acting crazy. How long have we known each other and how long have you understood I don’t do the commitment thing with guys? Just because I’m having a wobble, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to settle down with the guy I’m seeing.” I feel I’ve made my point quite clear.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just after what you said and going to talk to Amanda, I thought you were considering changing that.”

  “Well, I might be. But that doesn’t mean Greg is the guy for me. And right now, it’s wrong to be seeing him at all.” I should call him back and tell him I’ve made a mistake.

  “What are you looking for?” Her question stumps me.

  “What do you mean? Like in a potential boyfriend?”

  “Yeah. Tall, dark, muscular, clever…”

  “You make it sound like a shopping list, Izzy.” I giggle and imagine how great it would be if you could just type in your requirements and have the perfect partner shipped to you. She laughs back at me.

  “Well, I don’t think I’ll be able to magic him out of thin air.”

  “Okay, well…” The image of Dr. Clark pops into my head, and I consider his characteristics. “Tall, green eyes, broad shoulders. Dark hair, maybe stubble or a little more than stubble.”

  “Greg has stubble.” She offers.

  “Yes, he does.” I laugh out. “Can you please let me deal with this. Pretend like I never mentioned my fears to you. This is all new to me, and I’m not even sure I can consider something that will involve my heart.”

  “I’m sorry, Jess. I’m just so ready for you to find the one.”

  “Izzy, you know that isn’t going to happen for me.”

  “Yes, it can. I got mine. There is no reason you can’t too.” We’re both quiet for a moment. I love her dearly for being so optimistic, but I need to face reality.

  “Look, what are the plans for Saturday? Do I need to bring anything?”

  “No, well, Greg, but that’s all.”

  “If I bring him, do you promise to behave like nothing is happening. I don’t want you playing match maker.”

  “Fine. I promise. Get here at seven. Seb’s cooking.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  The doorbell rings and I pick up my bag on route. Greg’s on time. I open the door and pull it closed behind me.

  “You look nice,” he offers.

  “Thanks. Are you happy to drive?”

  “Of course. You’ll have to give me directions.”

  We climb into the car and head off to dinner. It’s clear from the tense set of his jaw that Greg isn’t as comfortable as he used to be. Neither am I, and I can’t escape the feeling this is going to end in tears. I should have been stronger and not let him convince me dating would be fine between us.

  “Head into the centre and Pulteney Bridge. Their house is just off of it.”

  “Doing alright for themselves if they can afford that neighbourhood.”

  “They’re still renting, although I’m sure it won’t be long before they find somewhere.” The conversation reminds me that although Izzy is happy now, it wasn’t always straightforward. It’s not like she had a magical fairy-tale. I’m getting myself wound up for nothing. I need to get a grip and get back to my usual, steady life. With no emotional connections.

  We pull up outside their townhouse and knock.

  “Hi! I’m so glad you came.” Izzy answers and is clearly happy to see us. “Nice to see you, Greg.”

  “Thanks for the invite, Izzy. This is a really nice house.” I can see the appreciation beam from his eyes as he scopes out the hallway. She takes my coat and we hug.

  “Seb’s in the kitchen, Greg why don’t you go through to the lounge. Jess, drinks in the kitchen?”

  “Sure, Iz.” I follow the delicious smells of garlic and chicken into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Jess,” Seb greets from behind the stove. He and I didn’t get off to a very good start, but I can’t deny how happy he makes Izzy.

  “Hi, smells wonderful. What’s on the menu?”

  “Salads for starters, then a chicken piccata, followed by tiramisu.”

  “Yum.” I look at Izzy, “What’s a piccata?” I mouth. She shrugs, clearly not bothered by the mystery dish. She hands me a large glass of wine.

  “What does Greg want?”

  “No idea, but he’s driving. Just a small glass before the food.” Izzy pours half the quantity into another glass and I take them both into the lounge.

  “Go on through. Natasha is here with her date,” Izzy instructs.

  Greg stands by the fireplace and I walk over to hand him his drink. He takes it and leisurely slides his arm around my waist to pull me to him. I try and ease my body away, keeping a distance between us as I turn to greet Natasha. Dr. Clark is sitting beside Natasha and steals her attention. My eyes blatantly check him out. His lips tilt up behind the thick stubble and my stomach drops in response. I tear my eyes away in a flustered rush. Holy shit!

  Natasha stands to greet me, and I force myself to step towards her. We embrace. It’s awkward, more a polite greeting, before she sits back down. She cosies up to Dr. Clark and kicks one of her mile long legs over the other, angling her whole body towards him. Her perfect hair, her perfect body with perfect legs, are all far too close to Dr. Clark for my liking.

  “Down, Natasha,” he warns in that smoky voice. He stands and moves towards me.

  “Pleased to meet you.” He makes no reference to our previous meeting. I take his hand and much like the previous time, he holds my palm for longer than needed. My body sparks and is suddenly alive with excitement.

  “Lucas Clark, but please call me Luc.” His eyes smile at me and glint with some mystery I desperately want to uncover.

  “Jess Riley.” I breathe out, all sultry and smooth.

  All too soon, he moves past me to introduce himself to Greg.

  I blink a few times to clea
r the spell I was under and look at Natasha. She wears the wickedest smile. Her red lips promise mischief, and I know she can see I’m attracted to Luc. Who wouldn’t be? I pray she isn’t mad at me for my obvious reaction to her date. Her date. I need to get my reactions to Luc under control.

  Jealousy sweeps my body and speeds my pulse. I take a big gulp of wine and inch back towards Greg, still looking at Natasha. Greg’s arm snakes around me and pulls me to his side. Natasha plasters herself against Luc. He finds my eyes before he deliberately moves his hand to slide up Natasha’s thigh. My breath catches despite my best efforts at being discreet. I turn to Greg and gulp down more wine, far too quickly.

  Izzy appears at the door and glances between us. “Jess? Everything alright?” Her voice is cheery, but she looks confused as she takes in my evident tension.

  “Good, everything’s good.”

  “Okay, well, dinner is ready.” My motion forward is halted by Greg’s clasp around my waist. He waits for Natasha and Luc to leave the room and turns to me.

  “Who the fuck is Luc?” He glowers at me.

  “Natasha’s date. I don’t know him.” I’m not about to go into details of our first meeting.

  He arches his brows at me and shakes his head. “Whatever. You seem a little too pleased to see him, Jess. Did you know he was going to be here?”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous. I had no idea who Natasha would bring, or if she’d bring someone at all.” My words taste bitter as I spit them out. I might be good at keeping my heart out of the equation, but that doesn’t mean my temper doesn’t get involved. I pull out of his grasp, take a seat opposite Luc and Natasha, and smile through my unease. Greg takes his seat beside me without another word.

  A sea of platters are laid on the table before us. Tomatoes, mozzarella, breads, cheeses and antipasti are all for the picking.

  “Thank you for being here to celebrate with us tonight.” Seb breaks the frosty silence in the room. “Natasha, Jess, you’ve certainly been there for both of us. We appreciate it.” He lifts his glass. “To good friends.”