Three Minutes Late and Counting

ZACH

I had to duck out of their orientation midway. Abigail was due at two-thirty.

She’s running late, which annoys me, but I stand by my car as hers rolls into the dirt driveway.

In three weeks, the dirt will be history, thank goodness.

My car is going to require daily dusting with all the dust it’s collecting.

“Hello, Zach.”

“You’re late,” I respond, turning toward the front door. I swing it open, allowing her to step in first.

“Yes, I am.” She checks her wristwatch. “By three minutes, to be precise.” Whether it’s one minute, three minutes, or ten, it’s still late. I have zero tolerance for tardiness.

It rubs me the wrong way, instantly putting a damper on my mood for the rest of the day.

“Usual spot?”

“Yeah, straight down the hall.” I follow her toward the living room, our regular meeting place. Today’s session is likely deemed necessary by her, given my recent episodes of anger and frustration.

We settle on opposite ends of the couch. Well, I stretch out because I can. I prop a pillow under my head and pretend to pick at a speck of dirt under my thumbnail.

“So, how have you been, Zach?”

“Just fine, thanks.” She arches her eyebrows at me, as if she expected a different response. I know better, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to bare my soul to my therapist.

“Has anything happened in the last week I should be aware of? Any violent outbursts, altercations, drug use?”

“No, yes, no.” She raises her eyebrows again, likely making a mental note of my answers.

“What outbursts have you had?”

“One of our exes accused Tyler of being her child’s father.” I shrug. “So I yelled at her then had a sexual encounter with my husband in the driveway.” That earns me a smirk from her, despite her efforts to conceal it.

“And how do you feel about that revelation?”

“Angry, confused,” and murderous.

“How did you handle the news?” She’s always so straightforward.

“I yelled at Sophie, then gave Tyler a blowjob on her car…and then I went to my parents to ride my horse with my dad.”

“Sophie is the ex that hurt Tyler before?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me, Zach, what’s going on in your head right now?”

“I’m still peeved you were three minutes late.” I lift my head from the pillow to look at her. She grins, a wide, toothy smile, and scribbles something in her notepad. I’m curious about what she’s jotting down, but I know better than to ask.

I’d just get a lecture and be told to mind my own business. So, I lay back down in silence.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try to be more punctual in the future. But that wasn’t what I was referring to. I want to know your thoughts about the situation with Tyler and your ex, Sophie.” Of course, she does. That’s her job, isn’t it? To dig into my inner chaos and force me to face things I’d rather ignore.

“I’m angry, hurt, and uncertain.”

“Let’s tackle each of those separately. Why are you angry?” I lay back on the couch, mulling over the reasons for my anger.

“I’m angry that she won’t leave us alone. I’m angry that Tyler might have slept with her again. I’m angry because there’s now a child caught in the middle of this mess. Despite everything…I don’t hate her. She’s kind of cute. I mean, who can hate a child, even when they’re being used as a pawn…it’s not her fault, is it?” She taps her pen against her lips, pondering my words. She seems to be formulating a response before she speaks.

“That’s a lot of reasons to be angry.” I raise my eyebrows at her. I’m sure I could find more if I wanted to, but those are the ones at the forefront of my mind.

“Let’s discuss your anger toward Tyler. How did you handle those feelings?”

“I didn’t force him to have sex after punishing him, if that’s what you’re asking?” She nods, that’s exactly what she was asking. “But I did give him a blowjob on her car because he was practically begging for it. Then I left and actually talked to my dad about it,” because that’s not embarrassing, right?

“It’s good that you sought out someone to confide in. That’s a healthier way to cope with your feelings, Zach.”

“If you say so. Personally, I prefer the punishment before sex scenario, but to each their own. Right?” She nods again, jotting something down. I wish I could see what she’s writing.

“Let’s talk about the child and her mother. You’re upset about Sophie using her. Why is that?” Because the poor kid is just a pawn in Sophie’s game. That poor girl is going to grow up feeling like an accessory to her mother’s life.

“Tyler says she isn’t his, so Sophie must be using her to get something. Probably Tyler. That’s what she wanted before,” and probably still does. Tyler is a catch…I get it. He’s everything you could want in a partner.

Handsome, great in bed, supportive, empathetic. The list goes on.

“Does he want that?”

“No,” I hesitate. He said he doesn’t want that, but I can’t read his mind. He could want anything, and I wouldn’t know.

“Let’s discuss why you’re hurt?”

“It’s the possibility that Tyler would betray me like that. I’m almost used to the idea now, it’s not like he hasn’t done it twice already.”

“Yes, we’ve discussed this before. How would your feelings toward him change if indeed this child was his?” The thought of Tilly being his makes my chest ache, but even if that were the case, I can’t imagine Tyler leaving.

I’ve already forgiven him, and this would have happened before I forgave him…so technically, it’s in the past. I wouldn’t want him to leave, especially now that we have Ella. Not that there aren’t other reasons beyond Ella that would make me want to work things out, but she is the main reason.

“I’d be furious, maybe I’d even take it out on his body, but I wouldn’t want to lose him.”

“Why not?”

“I love him.” Isn’t that reason enough?

“I think it would be beneficial for you to have a session or two with Tyler so you can express your feelings verbally rather than resorting to physical actions?”

“I like communicating through sex though, that’s the problem…apparently,” according to everyone else.

“It’s not healthy to use that as a means to communicate,” she insists. I actually felt quite refreshed after our night and morning of sex the other day.

“I mean it, Zach, if you don’t talk through your problems, you’re only pushing them aside for them to resurface later.”

“Okay.” She purses her lips, shaking her head as if she knows I’m not really listening. And she’s right. Sex has always been my coping mechanism, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Probably never.

“What are you uncertain about?”

“How I would handle it if Tilly was Tyler’s. We’ve just had our own child, how would she fit into our life? Would Sophie bleed Tyler dry? He’s already spending most of his earnings on others, so she could leave him with nothing…and he doesn’t deserve that. Then there’s Violet, Callum, and Ella. How would they feel or cope with another child in our relationship? What if this child, Tilly, ruins everything we’ve built?” Even I sigh this time. There are just so many what-ifs.

“Sounds like you’re experiencing a lot of anxiety thinking about this.”

“Is that what this is?”

“I think so, Zach. The unknown is scary, and it can be hard to navigate through it when you have so many things causing anxiety. Is there anything else that’s bothering you?”

“You know, it’s the second week in a row you’ve been late. Meanwhile, Tyler, Violet, and Ella are at my mother-in-law’s with Sophie and her kid. I’m here with you, by choice.” I glance at my expensive car, the dust settling on its paintwork. “We’re building a new barn for Callum’s company. And there’s more.”

I pause, gathering my thoughts. “My parents are on the outs, sleeping in separate rooms. My brother’s coming this weekend to meet Ella. I don’t want any of this crap messing with him or his studies.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Tyler wants to work from home after his paternity leave. And I’m constantly horny, but I told you about that last time. There’s probably more, but it’s slipped my mind.”

I don’t mention the other things. Like how I can’t wait to smoke weed with Daniel tonight, or how I’m itching to finally sleep with Violet. Or Catherine. And then there’s Violet’s issues, especially with her mother. But that’s a whole other conversation, and not really my fight.

“That’s a lot on your plate. Is it always this overwhelming?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be?”

“No.” She looks surprised, and I shrug.

“Funny, my mind’s been like this since I was a kid. Used to get me in trouble with my mom because I couldn’t listen to her and my head at the same time.” I chuckle, remembering how I had to learn quickly that my mom wouldn’t accept my “full” head as an excuse for not listening. “Took a while to quiet my mind. Drugs mostly helped once I was old enough to know what they were.”

She nods, understanding.