The Fallout (The Therapist #3) - W.S. Greer Page 0,19

but …” Eli says, before trailing off.

“But what?” I snip.

“But you don't have to work the way you do. I work this hard because I bring home the money that provides this life for us. This house. Those cars. I work hard to provide for us, so when you work it’s just because you want to, not because you need to. My job makes it so that you don't have to kill yourself working all hours of the night, doing home inspections on poor people who suck at taking care of their children. You don't have to do that, but you choose to, which I think is great, but it also made me feel like you were choosing to spend time away from me. You don't have to have a job, but you do and you work all night long sometimes. It made me feel like you didn't want to be around me, and that built up over time.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I bark.

“I'm not saying that’s justification for what I did,” Eli says. His voice has started to sound defensive once again, and all the good feelings I had before have been erased and replaced with something much more poisonous.

“So, what you're saying is that because I choose to work, you felt like I was choosing to spend time away from you, and even though you work insane hours yourself, to go along with tons of business trips out of town for days at a time, that’s why you fucked someone else? Because of my job?”

“I’m not condoning what I did, Demi, but that is the reason why I did it.”

“I thought you did it because you got drunk? I thought it was an accident? It sounds to me like you wanted to do it.”

“Of course it was an accident and it was because I got drunk. I wasn’t planning on hooking up with Amber, it just happened.”

“And the reason it happened is because of me and my job?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not …”

“Fuck you!” I explode, my face suddenly feeling like it is being stabbed with a million hot needles. “You cheated because of you, Eli, not me. I didn't make you stick your cock in Amber. You did that on your fucking own!”

“Demi—”

“No!” I shout as I stand up. Tears fill my eyes for what seems like the millionth time in the past few days, and I'm just so sick of it all. I’m irate and exasperated. I’ve just fucking had enough. “How dare you blame me for being cheated on. How dare you blame me for what you chose to do.”

“Come on, Demi, that’s not what I’m saying,” Eli tries to backtrack, but the damage has been done. In fact, it may be too late to save us at all now.

“I’m done,” I say, my words short, sweet, and as hard as a hammer. I turn and aim my body toward the bedroom door, and when I try to walk away, Eli grabs my wrist again.

“Demi, please wait,” he pleads, but I snatch my wrist away.

“Don't touch me,” I bark. “I can't believe you. You’ve hurt me too many fucking times to count in the past six months, and I’m just done.”

“Don't say that,” Eli begs. “I'm sorry I can't get my words exactly how you want them, Demi, but I’m trying. I’m doing the best I can, but this shit feels impossible. I’m giving it everything I’ve got, because I love you so much. Please don't give up on us. We’re going to therapy for exactly this reason.”

“No, fuck that. You go to therapy, asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“What? You're not coming to therapy tomorrow?”

I walk away from the table, my feet stomping all on their own. Before I slam the door shut, I yell over my shoulder, “Go to therapy by your fucking self, Eli. You're the one who needs it.”

Once again, a closed door separates us, but does nothing to help us heal.

OFF KILTER

11

~ Malcolm ~

“So, did you think about it?”

“Did I think about it?”

Dr. Evelyn Monroe adjusts herself in her seat, her tell that she's annoyed. Every therapist has one, I think. For me, when I find myself irked by anything, I can’t help what my mouth does. I don't mean talking. I’m pretty good at not speaking before thinking. What I struggle with is more of a tick. My lips move, twist, and pucker all on their own, and no matter how hard I try to keep it