“Yeah. It's your mom. She is an absolute mattress stallion and we couldn't be happier together,” I said, turning the conversation back to the same inane shit we always joked about. “Which means that you're going to need to start calling me Dad.”
Mason shook his head and smiled, “Whatever makes you happy, Drew. Whatever makes you happy,” he said. “Although I know you're full of shit because my mom has a little taste – which automatically rules your tacky ass out.”
I woke up drenched in sweat, Mason's face still emblazoned in my mind. That's the way to remember him, they told me. I remembered him happy. And he was never as happy as he was when he talked about Carrie and the future he planned to have with her. A future that would never materialize now. All thanks to me.
I saw Carrie at his funeral – but she didn't know the full details of what happened. There were elements of our missions we couldn't talk about. And it killed me to know that she didn't have the full story. But then, if I had told her the full story, she'd have killed me herself, I had no doubt. She'd know it was my fault that Mason was dead every bit as much as I did.
During the service, she ws overcome by grief and fell to her knees, sobbing as f her entire world had fallen apart. And in a way it had. All because of me.
All because I sent Mason ahead of me when I was supposed to be the one on point. All because I didn't think to check the area before I'd sent him on ahead.
And Dr. Emerson wanted me to believe it wasn't my fault?
Bullshit.
But as I stared at my ceiling, feeling lost and confused, I yearned to talk to her about everything I was thinking and feeling in that moment. I wasn't sure why, and perhaps my reasons were more personal than for therapeutic, but I just wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hear what she had to say.
Because I hated living like this. Every single day was hell, and perhaps my Captain and everyone else was right about me needing help. And if anyone could help me, I thought that it would be her. There was something about her was just – special. I couldn't put my finger on it. But she made me feel comfortable. She made me feel like I could open up and that it would be okay. She made me feel like she'd listen to me without judging and that she genuinely had my best interest at hear. She was good at what she did.
And I didn't mean just the sex either.
Amelia
“Hi Drew, it's Dr. Emerson. Just calling to make sure you're okay after yesterday's session. I'm here all afternoon if you want to talk,” I said.
It was the second time I'd tried calling him, and so far, nothing. I couldn't force him to come in for anymore sessions, but God knew, he needed it. Maybe I was wrong to have kept him on as a patient. Maybe the complexity of his case along with our night together screwed it all up. Had made me lose perspective.
I hung up, feeling bad for how it had all gone down yesterday. I wondered if maybe I'd pushed him too hard. Though, it wasn't like he was the first person to rush out of a session like that, only to come back later and admit they weren't ready. But our situation was unique, and I wasn't sure if I should be doing things differently because of what happened. Or if he really did just need some time. Or hell, maybe I was worried about him. A little too worried, if I were being honest with myself.
For the first time in my professional career, I was feeling uncertain. Unsure of myself. And it was a feeling I didn't like. Not one bit.
Biting my nail, I stared down at my phone, willing it to ring. I gave him my direct office line, so he
could call and get me straight away.
I was concentrating on my office phone so intently, that when my cell phone buzzed, it made me nearly jump out of my skin. But like the time it had happened before, I knew it couldn't be Drew.
It was Charlie.
I didn't know what got into me, but I was tired of the bullshit. I answered it, and Charlie sounded surprised.
“Amelia? Is that you?”
“You called my phone. Who else would it be, Charlie,” I sighed. “What do you want?”
“I just want to talk,” he said.
“There's nothing to talk about,” I said, my tone colder than ice. “We're over.”
“I don't believe that, Amelia. We love each other, we had something special – ”
“No, we didn't. If that were true, you wouldn't have felt the need to have a woman on the side,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You're a narcissist, Charlie. Considering what I do for a living, I should have seen it from a mile away, but you're good at hiding who you really are. You're really good.”
“Don't analyze me or throw around psychological terms, sweetheart – ”
“Don't call me sweetheart, and don't patronize me. I'm not just throwing around terms – ”
“Can we please talk in person?”