April 2004
"Dallas Winters, Masters in Social-Cognitive Theory." My name is called and I walk across the stage to get my masters degree from Columbia University. There was a crowd of screams, my family, John and Dean, my floor from my first year of being an RA, who I've stayed in touch with and become good friends with the majority of the girls, my colleagues from where I was working as a psychologist in training at a clinic, and a whole bunch of my dad's hunting buddies.
"Fuck yeah, Dal!" I hear Dean scream, along with the airhorn that I know Ricki brought. A big blush comes across my cheeks as I walk down the stairs.
"Who's the cutie cheering for you?" My good friend, Annie White, asks, looking at Dean and Ricki.
"The one in the leather or the one in the flannel?" I ask, looking back at Ricki and Dean as they finally calm down.
"The flannel."
"That would be my brother." I say, and her eyes widen.
"Oh, I didn't know, I don't want you to get the wrong idea."
"No, I think you should go for it. He's got a house on Long Island. No big job but he works at a little car shop on the weekends."
"I was thinking fuck and run, but thanks for the rundown."
"No, that makes sense. He'd like that more." I laugh. "I'll put in a word about you."
And then the commencement service was over and I officially had my degree and could begin my career as a practicing psychologist.
"I'm so proud of you." Ricki hugs me, and then my dad, and then Heath.
"Thanks." I smile, and hug my dad again.
"A psychologist." John nods. "Now you can tell us what the fuck is going on in each of our heads."
"Exactly." I laugh and hug him.
"I'm proud of you, Dal." Dean hugs me.
"Thanks, Dean." I smile, and hug him, inhaling his familiar scent and telling myself not to cry.
"At least now I've got my own personal psychologist, to tell all my fucked up shit to."
"Hey, I'm not cheap. And I don't take credit cards." I wink and Dean smiles and hugs me again.
"I've missed you, Dal." He whispers.
After we broke up, four years ago, we kind of cut off all contact with each other. It was what would be best for both of us. And it was good. We got to discover more about ourselves, and that was exactly what I needed. I'm not sure what he got out of the break up other than not having to report back to a girlfriend every couple of days.
"I've missed you too, Dean." It was true. I have missed him. When we talk, it's always around other people, and I don't even want to imagine the two of us together after a couple drinks. We'd probably be dry humping each other in whatever bar we were drowning our sorrows in.
"We've got a lot to catch up on, don't we?" He asks and I smile and nod.
"But not before we get some drinks to celebrate, right?!" Ricki shouts and I just roll my eyes and smile.
"Who's buying?" I ask as he pulls out a credit card.
"Walter Tank." He winks.
The night of my commencement from Columbia University is one I will never forget. I went on my last NYU bar crawl, because fuck Columbia's nightlife (or lackthereof) with my family, and two people who have grown to become part of my family. We went to CBGB, where I worked, Reservoir, Sly Fox, Milano's, The Thirsty Scholar, The Library, you name the NYU bar, we were there, and we were buying drinks for the whole night. Heath kissed his first college girl, and Ricki wound up going back to Annie's apartment with her, leaving me with the dads and Dean.
"We're heading back to the house." John says, holding Heath up. The kid can barely stand up he's so drunk. "You got her?" Dean nods.
"Yes sir."
"We'll see you two tomorrow." My dad says, and then walks off, leaving me with my ex-lover.
"So, how've you been for the past four years?" I ask Dean, not bothering to hold back my smirk.
"Like you really care." He says, sliding a hand up my thigh and I smile.
"Of course I care." I put my hand on his knee. "You tell me about your four years, and I'll tell you about mine."
He recaps his four years to me. He hasn't talked to Sam since he left for college, and I talk to Sam at least once a week, but he doesn't need to know that. He's been on hunts, he tells me about a few of the big ones, and then he's done. He's done nothing eventful, apparently.
"My four years have been busy. I've been in grad school. I'm up to my knees in debt, but starting next week, I'm working in a Midtown clinic on special cases, which means crazy people who think they've seen monsters. I cannot wait to start there. If anybody's seen some shit in their life, it's me. They said to me, that I was their perfect candidate, because I said that I travelled all over the country, so I've seen all the crazy people possible. Uh, I dated someone for a while, that was weird."
"How long is a while?"
"A little over a year."
"Why'd you dump them?"
"How do you know I dumped them?"
"Because you're an independent bitch that takes nobody's shit."
"That, my good friend, is true." I say, my lips ghosting over his.
"Dean!" Hannah, one of my girls from my first year as an RA who just so happens to be one of my best friends, shouts, and his eyes fall to my lips and then he turns, to see who called his name.
"Hannah." He smiles, and gets up, hugging her. "How've you been, sweetheart?"
"I'm good! How have you been? I haven't seen you since I was a freshman! I just graduated!"
"I'm just fine." He lies through his teeth. You can tell that he's exhausted. He hasn't slept well in a long time, but he always sleeps well when I'm by his side. I know he can't wait until we're sleeping. Or maybe until the hour or so before we're sleeping. "Congrats on graduating, by the way."
"Thanks." Hannah smiles. "I'll see you around, yeah?" She does a dramatic wink to me, and I roll my eyes as she walks away.
"What was that about?"
"She's an idiot, and my roommate."
"Roommate?"
"The two of us and Rosie rent a wonderful condo from a wonderful old lady."
"You left that out of your four year recap." He says, moving so we were just as close as we were before.
"Hmm, you seem to be a little more beaten up about the fact that I'm a homeowner than that I was dating someone."
"What was his name?" Dean asks, moving so his head was resting on my shoulder as we sat in a booth.
"Matt."
"What's he do?"
"He's a photographer, director, and actor."
"Artsy."
"Very."
"Do you have a picture of Matty boy?"
"Yeah." I laugh and go into my purse.
"Don't tell me you've got 'em printed out!" He laughs and I flip him off.
"I only have this one because I look good."
"You do look good." He nods and places his hand on my thigh again.
"I'll show you different pictures a different time." I put the picture of Matt and I away. "We should go." I take his credit card and close our tab, signing a bullshit signature and linking fingers with him before walking out of the bar, hailing a taxi with ease.
"52 Clark Street, in Brooklyn Heights, please." I say to the cabbie and he looks back to check the door is closed and drives away.
"Is that between Pineapple and Pierrepont?" He asks as we cross the bridge, snapping me out of my daze as Dean kisses my neck.
"Yeah, and by Hick." I say, pushing Dean away from me.
"A quickie?" He chuckles, pushing his nose into my hair.
"We're about three minutes away, so it'll be the quickest quickie of all time."
"I can make you-"
"Alright, that'll be 22 dollars." I hand him the money and a few dollars extra, and then take Dean's hand and walk into the condo complex.
"This is fancy." He smiles as the doorman nods at him.
"Very." I roll my eyes and click the up button. We live on the seventh floor, and I'll be damned if I have to walk up those in the state that I'm in.
"And you live with?"
"Hannah, and Rosie. My college roommate, you remember her? She's asked about you over the years. Says that I'm not the same kind of happy without you." The elevator doors open and we step inside. "But she's a writer, so who know's if she was just stoned or not."
"You're probably not the same without me. We didn't talk for a really long time. Like, we haven't really spoken in four years and we had known each other for fourteen, now it's eighteen, and the longest we'd ever gone in fourteen years, was a month or two without a chat or checkup."
"You said a lot of numbers, and now my head hurts." I say, and he smiles.
"Yeah, but you're, like, a genius, so I don't know about that." He smiles and I roll my eyes.
"Just because I can list different parts of the brain doesn't make me a genius."
"Yes it does." He says, and I just shove him away from me, but he pulls me back, kissing me. "I've been waiting all night to do that, baby."
Let's just say that we did a little more than kiss after that.
/
do i know if getting your masters is enough to be a psychologist? no. could i be wrong? i probably am, but drop a comment if you've got anything to add bc i googled for solid hour and couldn't figure it out