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“Good! I mean, now that I’m back home, I’m still keeping with my routine, but it doesn’t feel as rigid as it used to. It’s kind of like that added-room thing; I have my foundation but now there are a couple extra rooms to explore, like I can hang out in other rooms, not just the basement. Does that make sense?”
“Makes perfect sense. I’m really glad you took those chances. That’s huge.
“Have you told Rhys yet?”
I sit back on the sofa, pulling my legs up and crossing them. “Not yet, he’s been traveling, but I think I should reach out.”
“Great idea. And Casper, is this a friendship or is there a romantic component?”
“Just friends. He clarified that when he asked me to be his plus-one to the wedding. I enjoy his company, he’s funny. Also, he’s my tattoo artist, I don’t think he can date me.”
“Why not?”
My shoulders lift. “I dunno, it would be a conflict of interest, right?”
She gives a shrug. “Okay, Casper aside, have you considered dating? It doesn’t mean now, but eventually is that something you’d like to do?”
“It’s been so long since I’ve been with anyone, and it’s not like I have much experience to begin with. I’m not sure I even know how.” I blow out a breath. “I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship now, but yeah, someday I’d like to find a partner. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t lonely. I’d love to try to experience what it’s like to have a healthy romantic relationship.”
She jots down some notes on the pad of paper she’s holding.
“Do you think I’m prepared for dating?”
“Only you can know that, but generally the rule is to wait a year. You’ve been in recovery for over three years. In that time you’ve created healthy behaviors for yourself where you prioritize your needs. You have to take care of yourself first, which I think you do a pretty good job of. It’s taken you some time, but you’ve overcome so much. How do you feel about physical touch?”
“A lot better than I did before, thanks to the tattoo appointments. If it were someone new, I might still struggle, but if I think that comes down to trust more than anything. It would have to be with someone I trust.”
“And sex?”
“I feel more positive about it after the therapy I did.” My libido returned a little over a year ago, and I saw a specialized therapist who helped me sort some of the feelings out so I could at least masturbate. “The rape was about violence and control. I’m able to separate those feelings when I think about sex, but I suppose I won’t know for sure until I’m in that position. Trauma’s a bitch.”
“It really is.” She nods. “Well, whenever you decide, I’m all for it. And if you notice yourself running into obstacles with physical intimacy, you’re established with a professional you trust, so you’re prepared whenever you feel like ‘adding on that room.’”
I finish the last swipe of clear coat on top of my freshly painted fingernails, as I do every Saturday evening. For the past couple years I’ve used the same pink polish, however, I thought it might be time to expand my horizons. Casper has texted me a few times, and I’ve peeked at my phone to see them flash across the screen with the notification. However, until the top coat finishes curing, I can’t reply or I’ll mess them up; I’m not coordinated with wet nails.
We’ve been texting for the last week or so since he took me skydiving. I don’t know why I’m surprised at this camaraderie. Now that I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve learned he’s like a golden retriever, making friends everywhere he goes. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve clung to him after having a moment of clarity falling from the sky, like some kind of reverse trauma bond, but I find myself smiling every time my phone chimes.
Casper
Dude.
Hey.
Homie.
Apparently, Casper and I text so regularly that we’re accustomed to how long it takes the other to respond. When I’m finished with my nails and no longer at risk of smudging the fresh polish, I pick up my phone just as another text comes through.
Casper
Duchess!
Holy shit, impatient much?
Casper
Christ, I was about to send out a search party.
My nails were still drying.
