american beauty // joshler

38

tyler's point of view

i drum my fingers on my leg anxiously in the waiting room. i watch someone walk out of the door to my right. it'll be my turn next.

i pull out my phone just to have something to look at. i open my messages and decide to text josh, to let him know i'm about to go back.

tyler: im really scared, j.

jim💖: it'll be alright, love. you can have steven bring you back to my place after, yeah?

tyler: you're working, i don't want to bother you anymore

jim💖: i promise it's okay. i'll see you in about an hour.

i look up when the door opens again. a woman makes eye contact with me and smiles.

"tyler?"

i nod and stand, shoving my phone back into my pocket and following her down the hallway.

"my name is leslie. it's nice to meet you." she opens the door to her office and closes it behind me. she sits behind her desk and then gestures to the chairs against the wall opposite of her, "please, have a seat."

i sit down and take in my surroundings. her office is sparsely decorated. a few photos sit on her desk, her degrees and credentials hang on the wall behind her. she's got a bookshelf full of books in the corner and there's a small coffee table between where i sit and the chair next to me. there's a single box of tissues on it and a trashcan by the door. it's nice. not too overwhelming. i don't know what i was expecting, but i figured there would be a lot more... everything.

"so, let's get started. the first few sessions are usually just getting to know you, establishing your goals for therapy and what you'd like to work on. can you tell me a bit about yourself?"

"not to be arrogant, ma'am, but... you've never heard of me? i don't look familiar?"

"no, i don't think so."

it's extremely relieving to hear and i feel my shoulders drop a bit after being raised slightly from so much tension.

"oh. good. um, i'm a model. i'm also kind of an influencer, i guess, but i hate that word."

"why's that?"

"i shouldn't be influencing anyone. i'm not... good enough for that."

"how so?"

i dig my nails into my palms. i don't want to talk about this with her. i mean, already? i barely know this woman. i feel a pulling inside me, a tug to retreat back into my cave of false confidence and offer her some bullshit excuse and a sour apple smile.

i sigh.

this is going to be a long hour.

-

steven drops me off at josh's apartment and i knock softly on the door.

he answers with a bright smile and hugs me tightly, which is usually the first thing he does when he sees me now. it's one of my favorite things, i think, to be held so closely by someone who really wants me there for me.

"how was it?" he locks the door back once i'm inside, his laptop now abandoned on the kitchen table.

"it was... hard. but good, i think. i think it went okay."

the pride that lights up his face makes every awkward second i went through there worth it.

"i am so proud of you." he kisses me once, gently.

he's always so careful with me, always soft and slow with every word and touch, like a warm blanket over a memory-foam mattress. i could melt into his words for forever.

"thank you, j."

"i'm not quite done editing, but you can sit on the couch and watch tv or something if you want," he says.

"i'm okay. i think i left my book here last time, i'll just read."

"alright, love. my house is your house."

"thank you."

"don't thank me." he kisses my forehead and then goes back to his work.

i find my book on his bedside table where i left it and bring it back to the living room. i curl up on the corner of the couch, pulling the blanket draped across the back over to cover me up.

his apartment makes me feel so calm. it's like i'm surrounded by nothing but him. and i love it here.

i'm so thankful that he didn't leave after my relapse, that he didn't hate me and just give up, despite the way i acted and the things i said.

i really am getting better, i think.

i still hear that inner-voice screaming at me to run every now and then, to ruin this and leave before he can, but i do my best to silence it. it's a lot to get used to, to be loved. but i'm trying.

he makes comments here and there on what he's editing, i make comments about what i'm reading. it's a domesticated form of small talk that feels like a fireplace and hot cocoa in the cold of his air conditioning. it's warm and peaceful and i want to protect it with every bone in my body, to tuck it into my ribcage and lock it there with a deadbolt.

it dawns on me then that there is a real possibility that i could have this forever.

he has stayed with me through all of what i've put him through these past months, through the drugs, parties, sleeping around, to the friendship we tried to build and the way i repeatedly did my best to subconsciously break it down. if he has waited patiently through all of that, there's a chance i could get him to stay forever.

my body grows even warmer at the thought, like i'm being bathed by the sun, and i feel tears suddenly fill my eyes. this is love and though i still don't feel like i deserve it, i have it, what i've always wanted.

and i don't want it to go away.

-

when it begins to get late, i notice josh yawn from beside me.

"are you tired?" i ask, already feeling myself freeze at the thought of having to go.

"a bit. i'll probably go to bed soon." he stands up and stretches, then walks toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. he leans against the counter and watches as i follow to stand in front of him.

"could i, um, maybe stay the night? i-i don't mean to sound desperate or pathetic or clingy or whatever because i know i see you all the time, but... please, don't make me leave."

his face softens again, a look reserved only for me, here, alone with him in his apartment.

"that's just fine, love."

i wrap my arms around his waist and let my cheek rest against his chest until i can hear his steady heartbeat. we stay like that for a moment, arms around each other in the dim glow of the light above the sink.

then i speak again, feeling the need to tell him just how grateful i am.

"thank you, josh," i mumble. the other three paragraphs of my speech dissolve on my tongue and i decide to leave it at that.

"for what?"

"just... helping me. for caring so much. no one else ever cared."

"i love you, tyler."

and the acknowledgment is enough for me.

(an: and so therapy has begun!)