On The Couch [Editing]

Chapter Thirty-Five

Just because Dr. Mayweather is an awful person in her personal affairs doesn’t change the fact she helped me. Evan should have trusted me, had more confidence in my recovery. I thought he did. Of course, I didn’t like her much anymore after hearing that, but I didn’t have to see her the way they did if at all ever again.

“You could have and should have told me,” I snapped the photo album shut and put it back in his bookcase.

“I don’t understand why this is still so upsetting to you?” Evan spoke obviously attempting to keep his voice steady.

I threw my hands up in the air and let them slap back down against my side.

“Because you’re stilling thinking like a therapist with me,” I paced and sat down on his couch. “You get to know all my secrets before we ever met and you think it’s okay to pick and choose what you tell me, that’s not a relationship that’s…therapy.”

“No I’m not, that’s not why I didn’t…”

“You tell me some things and leave out others, as if you think I couldn’t handle it. You don’t have a romantic past with her, yet you were afraid to tell me,” I heard him mumble about it’s not his story to tell, but I was on a roll. “That’s clinical thinking; we aren’t in a clinical relationship anymore. If I’m your girlfriend you treat me like one not a patient anymore,” I rambled speaking so fast as my emotions rose to the surface.

I could see Evan grinding his teeth as his jaw flexed back and forth. He blinked and held his head in his hands. “What do you want me to say?” he spoke low and controlled.

The tears began to well up. It wasn't about how he kept it from me. It is the fact he still thought he needed to, that I might be fragile about my recovery, that I am still a patient to him. He didn’t know how not to.

“I want you…need you to be Evan with me now, not Dr. Jacobs,” I stood up and reached for my coat and purse. I needed the man I love not the Doctor.

“Where are you going?” he asked alarmed at my abrupt movement.

“Home.”

“No…no, please stay Sonja,” he stood up and came over to me.

I am hurt that he felt he could only tell me what he thought I could handle. It is insulting. He sniffled and reached up to caress my cheek, hesitating if I’d even let him.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes. “Then you better figure out how to be Evan with me and not my therapist, you said yourself, I am not your patient anymore.”

It made my chest cave in to stand my ground as we stood there in turmoil together. All the wrenches in our relationship and the one we put on ourselves about each other hurts the most.

I thought, am I wrong in being so upset? Am I being too hard on him? I’ve been honest with him. He may not have meant to act like a therapist all the time, but he is with certain things with me and I just can’t have that. It feels like pity rather than love. Is it love he feels for me?

“Please Sonja I’m not your therapist anymore, I don’t mean to hold things from you, please stay so I can prove to you.”

“Why? What reason can you give me that is good enough?”

His lip trembled as he looked me hard in the eye for a long time. I wanted to hear him say it. See just how much he really cares, if he cares at all. Tell me that this isn’t just some exciting pity fling. Should I tell him? No I can’t, not here, not like this, I am not ready. All we do is stare at each other. I can see the pain and fear in his expression, but he doesn’t say anything.