Erling cocks her head. “With a dissociative state,” she says, “memory loss doesn’t necessarily begin at the exact moment of a trauma. It can actually encompass a period of time prior to a traumatic event.”
I take a second to digest the information.
“So the fight might not have been the trigger?”
“Maybe not. Or it could have been one of a series of triggers. So we need to consider other possible sources of stress or trauma. I’d like to hear about the place you went to yesterday morning, the company you used to work for. What does it mean to you?”
Sigh. I knew we’d get here sooner or later.
I give her a brief overview of Greenbacks: it’s a website offering a ton of posts on personal finance topics, but there are other services, too, like individual money management handled totally online. I explain I worked there for more than four years, first as an editor, then as chief content officer—and that overall, I really enjoyed it. My coworkers were smart and interesting, and I found the work exciting. But since I’d always had a desire to make a name as a personal finance expert, I started working on my own about five years ago.
“I really don’t have any idea why I went back there,” I add, knowing that’s what she’s really wondering. “The friends I made have moved on, too . . . but there’s one thing I should mention. When I worked at Greenbacks, I was involved romantically with the founder and CEO, Damien Howe.”
“This man was married?” she says. Her expression still gives nothing away, though I swear her eyes widen almost imperceptibly.
“Definitely not. We were both single at the time. But he was my boss—and we kept it a secret from the other employees.”
“How do you feel about the relationship in retrospect?”
“Well, I never felt taken advantage of, if that’s what you mean. I was in my late twenties, already in a big job there, and he wasn’t all that much older, so it wasn’t some kind of crazy power imbalance. I was in love with him. I was. And I think he was in love with me. But once it became clear that some of my colleagues were on to us, I decided we should cool it for a while . . . for both our sakes. And he agreed . . . but then we never got back together.”
She waits, and when I don’t fill the silence, she asks how I felt about it ending.
“There were no repercussions,” I say. “This was never a hashtagmetoo thing. But I was confused—and hurt, too. Like I said, I thought we were only on hiatus. I figured I’d find a job elsewhere or accelerate my plan to go freelance, and then we could start seeing each other again. But he seemed to, I don’t know, lose interest.”
The room suddenly seems so quiet. Her office is only on the seventh floor of the building, but there isn’t even a hint of the traffic below.
“Can you describe your feelings for Damien now?” she asks.
“I swear I don’t have any. I can’t even tell you the last time I thought about him.”
Her right eyebrow shoots up, fast as a knee tapped with a reflex hammer. She’s not hiding her reaction this time.
“You look surprised,” I say.
“I am. It’s common for a person to hold on to some feelings for someone he or she was in love with once. It’s perfectly normal, even if you’re happily married now. It’s even normal to check up on a former partner, particularly on the internet.”
I find myself shrugging. “Okay, I have thought about him at times, and I used to google him now and again. But it’s honestly been ages since I did that. I have no clue whatsoever why I would go to Greenbacks. And I definitely don’t think I’m holding any residual stress related to Damien or the company.”
Erling taps a finger to her lips. She’s wearing a rose-colored lipstick that I’ve been too preoccupied to notice until now.
“In our earlier sessions, we’d been discussing the experience you had when you were nine. How do you think that may be playing into what’s happened this week?”
“Oh god,” I say, pressing my hands to my face. I knew we would get here, too. What I failed to tell the doctor yesterday was that my decision to see Erling wasn’t based only on my family-planning discussions. I’ve been worried that my ambivalence is related