Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“But,” Dr. Palmer says, her eyes gentling despite the tough truths, “those are some of the strongest marriages and relationships I’ve ever seen. It can be done.”
“I saw my parents’ marriage for myself.” I discipline my mouth into a firm line. “And that was enough of a shit show.”
“I know you don’t like talking about what happened with them, about the role mental illness played in their relationship, but nothing you ignore or avoid will heal. When you avoid difficult things, traumatic things, you may extend their power over you. It can cause you to miss out on things you want in this life.”
“I don’t want marriage,” I say, forcing the words past the lump crowding my throat. “Monk said it himself. No strings.”
“Then enjoy it.” Dr. Palmer leans back in her office chair and folds her hands at her waist. “You deserve joy. You are in process, like the rest of us. Every issue doesn’t have to be resolved right away. You’ve been stable for a long time. Your meds are doing their job. Your depression has been infrequent and milder. Enjoy this slice of life. It’s highly likely that at some point, life won’t be this good.”
“You mean because of my diagnosis.”
“I mean because life be life-ing, and yes, because of your diagnosis. So when life lifes, it really lifes for you in unpredictable ways, but you have people who will love and support you through anything. Maybe let Monk decide if he wants to be one of them.”
“It’s not like that. Not this time.”
“Do you want it to be?” She raises her hand to stay my response. “Ahttt. I’ll wait for the answer to that question when you’re ready to be honest. I don’t want to hear the things you tell yourself to hide.”
“Damn. Are there any nice therapists in your practice? I may need a change.”
“You’re stuck with me.” She smiles and glances at her watch. “But our time’s up. We’ll revisit this in our next session.”
“In the meantime,” I say, grinning, “what I’m hearing is that my situationship is doctor-approved.”
“Grab your joy where you find it, girl.” She chuckles. “See you next time.”
I don’t know about joy, because I have no doubt I will get hurt, but having Monk again, even if for a few months—it will be worth it.
THIRTY-SIX
Verity
“So Monk did get back in them draws, huh?” Tessa teases on what used to be our weekly FaceTime call.
It started out as weekly when I first moved to LA, but it has dwindled to whenever three incredibly busy grown women can carve out time to chat.
“Tess!” Mel chokes, coconut water spraying from her nose.
“I mean, he did!” Tessa cackles, popping a chocolate-covered pretzel in her mouth. “But I knew that was gonna happen soon as I heard y’all would be working together.”
“I did, too, actually,” Mel admits. “It was obvious there was some unfinished business there. Have you two discussed what happened back at Finley?”
“Um, well, no.” I twine a loose curl around my index finger and avert my eyes. “Not exactly.”
“How ‘not exactly’ are we talking?” Mel frowns. “It was your first manic episode. He deserves to know what you were dealing with.”
“Why does he deserve it?” Tessa asks, irritation wrinkling her brows. “Just because she fucked him for a few months in college doesn’t entitle him to know everything about her mental health. Not everyone can be trusted. Believe me, I know.”
A note of bitterness in Tessa’s voice catches my attention. Of course, we have both lost jobs and friendships and opportunities when the wrong person found out we had bipolar, but the defeated look on her face prompts me to probe.
“What’s up, Tess?” I ask, watching her expression for clues. “Something happen with the show?”
Tess’s acting career hasn’t exactly taken off. She’s had jobs here and there, but struggled to find a breakout role or work as consistently as she would have liked. She did land a part on a new soap opera that she’s been excited about, though.
“One of the producers found out about my diagnosis,” Tessa grits out, the soft lines of her face stiffening into a cold mask. “And I lost the job, so like I said. Not everyone can be trusted with the truth about our diagnosis, and they certainly don’t deserve it.”
“How’d they find out?” I frown. “You’ve always been pretty careful and selective on jobs about who knew.”
“I’m not sure,” Tessa answers vaguely.
“Oh my God, Tess!” Mel erupts. “You were unprepared and behaving erratically on set. You even missed a few tapings and we both know why.”
“Wait, what?” I bounce a confused glance between my two best friends. “Erratic how? And you’re always so prompt and prepared.”
“When she’s on her meds, she’s prompt and prepared,” Mel inserts. “But she isn’t, are you, Tess?”
“Mind your own damn business, Mel!” Tessa shouts. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”