She chuckled and reached over to stroke my cheek. "Figured you'd appreciate the sugar."
"Yum." I grinned around the confection and wagged my brows at her. "I do. Thank you."
"Feeling better?"
"A little. Being with you helps…" I glanced from my sugary fingers back to her. "It's new."
"Alex was a good support last night," she said, her hand falling to my knee when I turned sideways in the seat.
"She usually is. To be honest, I've liked her living with me. I didn't realize how lonely I was sometimes." I scrunched up my nose after sipping my coffee. "Is that pathetic?"
"No, baby." Sam offered me a sad smile. "I get it."
"I need to ask you something…" I set the second half of my donut down and dabbed the sticky off my fingers with a napkin.
"Anything…" She bit her bottom lip for a second while we rolled to a stop sign.
I drew in a deep breath. "Can we do a scene tonight?"
Sam's brow furrowed as if the question surprised her. "You want to?"
"Yes. I just...I just want to be with you. I want you to…" I couldn't find the words to describe what I wanted, but Sam held her hand to me. I lay mine in hers and she gave me a squeeze.
"Of course, my sweet. Of course." She brought my hand to her lips. "Alone or with Caroline and Nora?"
"Alone. But I want you to...like Caroline did," was all I could manage.
Sam stroked my chin, giving it a gentle squeeze when I met her gaze. "I'm all in, my sweet. I just want to be with you, too."
Her words brought a smile to my face. Only the buzz of my phone interrupted it and I whipped it out to check the text from Rebecca.
Sam drove us the rest of the way to Anita's and parked in the lot out front. "Is that Rebecca?"
"Yeah. She's checking in."
"Any word on your mother's parole?"
"Not yet. Soon though." I tucked my phone back in the pocket of my jacket.
We sat in silence for an unusual moment before she broke it. "Ready?"
I nodded and we headed inside together.
Anita and I spent the first twenty minutes of session rehashing the events of the parole hearing. As always, she validated my feelings and reactions, but the real work began when we talked about what happened at Rebecca's. It was more difficult to talk about because those moments made me feel sicker and weaker than anything else.
"Rosie, remember when we did your early warning signs when anxiety is getting too much to handle?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"What were some of your warning signs?" she asked, her hands folding in her lap.
"Um… Not eating much or going out at all. Staying at home all the time reading or at Rebecca's. Avoiding my friends. Panic attacks. Losing time. Being forgetful. Not sleeping. Smoking a lot." I shrugged. "Things like that."
"Are any of those happening?" she asked, though the way her lip twitched, I knew she already had the answer.
"Losing time. Smoking a little," I said, slouching in my chair. "You want me back on medicine."
"Do you think you need to go back on medicine?" she asked, leaning forward slightly so that she could catch my eye.
I hesitated, glancing over her shoulder then back to her before nodding. "Yeah. At least some."
"Have you taken any over the past few days?"
"No. I left them at home because I haven't needed anything. It's just, the parole hearing was a lot. I guess it made me have nightmares and things," I said, toying with the sequins on the pillow in my lap. "I feel like I'm locked in the basement sometimes with only a little light. With a hungry belly."
"Are you hungry, Rosie?" Anita's brow furrowed, and I shook my head.
"No. But I remember what it feels like to have that hollow sensation. I felt that way when I saw her in that room. She's just as selfish and doesn't really care. It's like she gutted me when I was little." I took a swipe at the tears that dampened my cheeks. "And I was fine until I saw her again."
Anita sat quietly, listening to me and allowing me time as she always did. I gulped down the lump in my throat and continued.
"Rebecca's really my mother. Maybe one day I'll call her that." I let out a sigh as I dropped my head on the sofa. "I feel like I'm twelve or something."
"Stress like this can cause those regressed feelings. Emotionally, you might feel twelve because of the memories that seeing your biological mother brought up." She paused for a moment. "Go back to Rebecca. Tell me about that."
"We talked about it." I smiled when I remembered our conversation. "She makes me feel loved." I cleared my throat and sat up a little straighter. "Jason and Steve do, too. And now Sam."
"Tell me about Sam." Anita smiled as if her expression mirrored mine. "How are things going?"
"Really good. I told her I love her and she accepted it. She hasn't said it back yet, but I know she wants to. She's scared," I told her, and a sudden warmth rushed away the chilliness in my body. It filled me in the same way that thinking of Sam made my blood pump harder.
"I imagine so. From what you've told me, she's been through a lot as well."
"She has." I glanced to the door then back to Anita. "Our time is almost up."
She chuckled and crossed her legs. "Are you trying to shut down this session because of the difficult topics?"
"No." I laughed and shook my head. "The clock says so."
"I don't have any other patients today, so if we need more time, I'm happy to keep working with you."
"Thank you…"
"But since we have a pause in narrative. Would you entertain talking about medicine again, Rosie?"
I nodded and set the pillow aside. "I'll take the anxiety medicine again."
"We can try again if you'd like. We can do it as needed, or you can go back to twice a day. It's up to you."
"Can we do once a day? Maybe at night?"
"We can do that, too." She nodded. "Maybe a smaller dose so that it might relax you, but not too much?"
"Yeah." I perked up at the idea. "We can."
"Good. The hope is that you can live your life comfortably and not tortured, Rosie. That's all. If medications help support you, it might be worth it." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "Do you mind if I send it in now?"
"You can. Sure." I watched as she poked at her phone. "I don't like relying on medicine."
"There are many medical conditions that require supportive medications to improve the quality of life. Like diabetes, for example. Without insulin, people with diabetes could die or suffer terrible conditions," she said, glancing up at me.
"I know. Mental health just feels different," I said, taking a deep breath.
"Because of stigma. And because our world makes us feel like mental health conditions are weaknesses when they're not."
"Yeah." I nodded my agreement. "I feel like that sometimes."
She pocketed her phone and met my gaze again. "Not weaknesses. Just differences."
"Differences," I repeated while I considered the notion.
"Oh my God," a muffled voice from the waiting area exclaimed. Both Anita and I looked to the door. The voices picked up, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.
I thought of Sam right away and bolted from the sofa. Anita wasn't a beat behind and slid between me and the door before I could open it.
"Just a minute," she said, her arm stretched out to block me from leaving first. It only made my heart pound more and I gripped the center of my sweater. She pulled the door open and only Sam and another woman stood in the waiting area.
They faced each other, Sam's lips pursed with her face frozen, though the shimmering in her eyes told me something more. The woman, with a complexion of deep bronze and long black hair that touched her waist, wore a set of purple scrubs and a stethoscope. She held her arms open to Sam, her expression laden with concern. Sam made no effort to move, neither closer nor away, she just stared.
"Sami?" called the woman as if urging her forth. I wasn't sure o
f the exchange that occurred before hand, but the way she spoke her name sounded as if laden with an, "Are you okay?" tone. In a sudden burst of energy, Sam rushed her, and the woman caught her in a firm embrace. She cupped the back of Sam's head, and Sam covered her face with one hand while they hugged.
The two of them didn't seem to notice us at first until the woman holding Sam met Anita's gaze. They shared a long, heavy stare until they broke apart.
"What are you doing here?" asked Sam, her voice raspy before she cleared her throat.
"Are you here to see Anita?" The woman held on to Sam's elbows, and Sam's hands shook faintly against her forearms. Their questions burst forth at the same time.
"No, I—Wait. This is your Anita?" Sam gestured toward us, blinking away the emotion that misted her gaze.
"Of course." The woman nodded, a small smile lifting her worried expression. "You're so thin, Sami…"
Sam made to answer but Anita chimed in.
"Marita," Anita interrupted, her brows slightly narrowed at the woman she'd named.
"Neets, this is Sami." Marita's bright, shining smile nearly lifted the room with the intensity of her delight.
"I'm with—I can't—" Anita stammered, probably for the first time in her life as Marita dragged Sam over to us. Her entire posture seemed to wrestle with something almost as much as she fought for words. "Marita, I'm with patients," she finally managed, her gaze darting over the faces that stared at her.
"Oh." Marita's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and the four of us tumbled into an awkward silence. "Oh boy."
Sam's gaze fell on Anita then to me as all the revelations blew my mind to smithereens.
"You're gay?" I blurted out, wide-eyed and obnoxiously—for me anyway—as I stared at Anita.
Anita's lips pressed to a thin line as she dragged her gaze from me to Marita. A sallow, drawn expression replaced her usual friendly, even features. A decade's worth of imagery shattered to pieces as Anita's humanity filled the space beside me.
"I'm sorry." Marita's jovialness fell just the same. "I didn't realize. It's Sunday and you don't usually—"
Anita lifted her hand, shaking her head as she drew her gaze back to me. "I'm sorry, Rosie." She drew a deep breath. "We should talk about this."
"Wait… Sam told me about Marita." I gestured between the two of them. "And their past connection. You're the one Marita was in love with for years?"
Anita remained quiet but swallowed harder than usual.
"Primum non nocere," she whispered after the frozen moment.
It made no sense to me, but both Sam and Marita seemed to understand whatever it was. Sam held her hand to me and I stepped away from Anita to accept it. She pulled me into a hug, and I leaned into it. Marita stepped beside Anita, brushing her hand down her forearm to her fingers.
"We can't undo it, Pix," said Marita, her voice soft as Anita. "I'm sorry. Did you know who Sam was?"
Anita shook her head, and cleared her throat. "We should all go inside and sit down."
"All right," agreed Marita, and she followed Anita back into her office.
"Give us a minute," said Sam, her arm around my waist. Marita nodded and they headed inside without us.
Sam and I met each other's gaze. "Whoa," was all I could say.
"I had no idea," she said, letting out a breath. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. Are you?"
She nodded before taking my hand. "Are you okay with talking to them?"
"Yeah, definitely. I had no idea Anita was gay. Is it selfish to be not sad about it?"
"No, but maybe you should talk to her about it." Sam's expression, a mix of pain and surprise, seemed to mirror Anita's somewhat.
"I will."
We returned to the office to find Anita leaning against the arm of the sofa, her head in her hand while Marita stroked her arm. Sam led me to the sofa and we sat together, my hand held in hers in her lap.
Marita and Anita joined us on the adjacent chair. Anita sat in her usual manner as she crossed her legs. Marita sat on the arm of the chair, her hand on Anita's back. Anita's discomfort and tension radiated from her and it made me squirm. I'd never seen her like this before and it scared me a little.
"I'm sorry about this, Rosie," she said, her voice soft. "I need your permission for this discussion."
"I consent to it," I answered right away, eager to get to the meat and potatoes of the situation. "Why didn't you tell me you were gay?" I asked, glancing between them.
"My status isn't relevant to our work," she said, her expression doctor-like again, though more drawn than before.
"Yeah, it is. I've sat on this sofa for thousands of hours spilling my guts about women and it would've helped knowing you understood," I told her and she glanced to Marita. "What does primum non something mean?"
"'First, do no harm,'" answered Sam. "In Latin. It's a medical term and sometimes paired with a caduceus."
"Oh." My brow furrowed as I looked between them. "You think this is harming me?"
"It could," answered Anita, and I noticed the way she gripped the hem of her pencil skirt as if holding on for dear life. "I'm sorry."
My brow furrowed and a ball of anxiety rumbled in my stomach. "I don't feel harmed by knowing you're a human, too."
"How do you feel about it?" asked Marita, beating Anita to the punch. The look Anita tossed her could've cut steel. Marita smirked, brushing her knuckles over Anita's cheek in such a delicate caress that it could've melted the steel before the lasers hit it. Anita simultaneously leaned into it and tensed.
"Surprised, but certainly not harmed," I answered, my tone firmer than intended. "Happy to know that my doctor is also in a relationship with a woman. It isn't the worst thing."
"How about the awkward part?" Marita gestured between herself and Sam.
"Marita, honestly. Please just—" Anita lost her cool, with a narrowed brow and broad shoulders, but I interrupted her this time.
"I'm pretty sure all four of us land somewhere on Jordan's Mermaid Chart." I smirked when I said it. "And that isn't our only connection. You remember statistics and analytics are literally my job, Anita?"
"I do remember your job, yes." Her gaze fell on me again and she let out a soft breath.
"So...I get it. It doesn't make me feel awkward," I admitted, though the gnawing in my gut continued.
"What's making you nervous?" asked Sam, her fingers in my hair when she kissed my temple. I leaned into her and ceased wringing my hands together in my lap.
"That Anita will stop being my doctor." I returned my attention to Anita. "Will you?"
"Not in the immediacy," she answered, her expression cooling off for now. "But it will be something we'll need to discuss together. Our girlfriends are friends." Her statement was the first time she acknowledged Marita as such and right away, Marita smiled.
"The awkward part is Anita knowing all the dirty details about Sam's sex life. Not so much yours, Rosie," teased Marita and it made most of us laugh.
"Ri, you're not helping one bit." Anita looked up at her, her lips curling into the faintest frown.
"Easy, Pix." She leaned down and smooched her right between the eyes. "We're all okay."
"I'm inclined to be concerned for Rosie," she said, though she crumbled under the affection and shifted to cross her legs in the opposite direction.
"Right now, I'm okay," I said, leaning my head on Sam's shoulder when she put her arms around me. "What does Pix mean?"
"Nickname," answered Marita, seeming to tread lighter on the situation now.
"She calls her Pixie instead of Anita," answered Sam instead. "Which is probably why I didn't even think to connect the dots in this situation. I'm sorry, Rosie. Had I known, I would've warned you. Or done something different. I'm not sure what though."
Anita tossed daggers at Sam this time, but only for a fleeting second. She seemed to crumble to the notion that this situation wasn't going to go away. We had to deal with what presented itself to us.
/> "Everyone, honestly. I feel okay with this. I'm happy to know that someone I trusted understands me on a deeper level." I held my hands up to them. "You don't all have to protect me."
"To be fair, I'm not trying to protect you at all," said Marita, a playful smile tossed in my direction. "I think you can handle the amount of queerness in this room."
I chuckled and Anita just covered her face.
"Thank you, Marita. It's nice to meet you, by the way. I probably would never have known you existed in Anita's life if it weren't for this situation." I gave Sam's hand a squeeze. "And thank you for caring about my girlfriend. We wouldn't be here if she hadn't trusted you."
Marita's smile softened and her gentle gaze fell on Sam while she rubbed Anita's back. "Sami is worth caring about. She has a beautiful heart that she keeps anesthetized out of sheer fear of pain. Don't let her get away with that."
Marita's words struck so hard that Sam and I looked at each other at the same time. "I won't," I pledged, nodding to her. Sam's eyes welled up, but she blinked away the tears before they fell. "I promise."
A gentle lull fell over the room and Anita cleared her throat after a moment. "Well, Rosie. I think that's it for today."
I laughed as I returned my attention to her. "I'll say."
"Why don't we all go for coffee? You know I'm not about to let Sami's phantom presence slip through my fingers without a longer catch up sesh." Marita wagged her brows at us. "All in?"
"Sure," I agreed and Sam nodded, though her hand in mine tensed. "Anita?"
"I'd feel more comfortable if just the three of you went," she said, glancing between us and Marita. "Until I've processed all of this."
"I'm okay with it, Anita. Honest." I held my hand up as if pledging my truth.
"I understand that, Rosie, and I appreciate it. If it's all right, I need a little time to wrap my head around it." Anita had never made a personal request of me before, and I knew in that moment that our relationship changed. Not for the worse or for the better, but just for the different.
"Okay." I nodded. "I can honor that."
"We'll go downstairs to the coffee shop while you finish up here?" posed Marita. "If you feel ready, we'd be happy to have you."
"Thank you," said Anita, a soft smile curling her lips. Their sweet exchange brought a smile to my lips. Sam must've felt the same because she stroked my cheek with her index finger.
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