Suddenly One Summer
Page 54
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He seemed pleased. “Good.”
“There’s something I’ve been wondering: do you think that my panic attacks have anything to do with the fact that my mother was clinically depressed?”
Dr. Metzel set his pen down and studied her. “Are you asking if I think mental health issues run in your family?”
She paused, not one hundred percent sure she wanted the answer to that. “Yes.”
“There is evidence that suggests both panic attacks and depression run in families, but I don’t think the two conditions are linked in and of themselves. Meaning, I don’t think you’re genetically predisposed to panic attacks because your mother suffered from depression. But obviously, I think your childhood experiences are a large part of the reason you have control and intimacy issues.”
She’d gotten that message loud and clear during their last session. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. Maybe I do have a few barriers up,” she conceded. “But why is that necessarily a bad thing?”
“You don’t want to have healthy adult relationships?”
She sat forward in her chair. “But what is ‘healthy’? Living with someone for twenty years who will eventually come to hate you so much that she’ll go to war with you over a stamp collection that she doesn’t give a damn about? Or, being married for fifteen years to someone and then discovering that he’s had a mistress nearly the entire time? Day in, day out, I’m bombarded by relationships that were probably once ‘healthy’ but now are anything but.”
“I agree that your job provides you with many examples of unhappy relationships.”
Good. She was glad they could agree on that. “Yes, it does.”
“But I also think it provides you with a handy excuse for avoiding relationships yourself. There are happily married divorce lawyers out there.”
Victoria sat back in her chair. Well. Wasn’t he suddenly all about the psychoanalysis today?
“Let me ask you this,” Dr. Metzel continued. “The men you date: do they know how you feel about relationships?”
“Absolutely. And I purposely date men who feel the same way as I do. Not looking to settle down, just wanting to keep things casual.”
“Are you seeing anyone now?”
Victoria hesitated. Part of her didn’t want to open the door to this line of questioning. But something compelled her to continue. “Kind of, I guess. His name is Ford.”
Dr. Metzel perked up in his chair. “Okay, good. Tell me more about Ford.”
She sighed. Here we go. “He’s my next-door neighbor. When I first moved into the building, we couldn’t stand each other—that’s a whole other story—but then I got roped into helping his sister with her child support case. He and I have been spending a lot of time together with that, and I guess things just evolved from there.”
He began taking notes. “Is this a sexual relationship?”
“Indeed, it is.” She smiled cheekily, thinking back to her and Ford’s very steamy night together last Saturday. When Dr. Metzel looked up at her, she put on a more serious expression and cleared her throat.
“You said that when you first met, you and Ford couldn’t stand each other. What changed?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I guess he grew on me.”
“How so? What do you like about Ford?”
Victoria hadn’t expected that question. “For starters, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met. I mean, we’re talking blushing, giggling, oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-how-gorgeous-this-man-is levels of hotness here.”
“So it’s a purely physical thing?” Dr. Metzel asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s only a physical attraction,” she hedged. “I suppose he can be funny at times, when he’s not trying to push my buttons.” She smiled slightly. “Clever, too, in a quick-on-his-feet kind of way. Very good writer. I would never admit this to him, but I’ve been reading his stuff in the Trib, and you can tell he’s passionate about what he’s doing. Did you know one of his stories just made the Sunday front page? Pretty impressive, huh? Don’t get me wrong, he knows he’s good; he’s got this . . . confidence that definitely gets a little out of hand at times. But beyond that, there are these moments with his sister, or his niece, when he’s protective and really very sweet. I mean, he volunteered to babysit his four-month-old niece on a Saturday night. Do you know any other single man who would do that?” She smiled. “Granted, it sounds like it was a total disaster for both him and the baby, but still—that’s adorable.”
She stopped, suddenly realizing that she’d been going on and on.
Dr. Metzel smiled softly. “He sounds like a really good guy.”
Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair, immediately feeling the need to clarify something. “Look, before you get all jazzed up about this, and start writing in your little notepad, you should know that nothing will ever happen between Ford and me. And that would be the case even if I didn’t have my alleged ‘intimacy issues.’”
“What makes you say that?” Dr. Metzel asked.
“Because the guy is as messed up as I am.” She half-chuckled at the truth of that. “I don’t know the whole story—actually, I don’t even know one-tenth of the story—but I do know that his father was an alcoholic who died only about a month ago and there are definitely some unresolved issues there. And besides, he told me he doesn’t do commitment.” She gestured emphatically. “Does that sound like someone I should be pursuing a relationship with? I don’t think so.”
Dr. Metzel studied her thoughtfully. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you describe yourself as ‘messed up.’ Granted, I don’t like that term, but I find it interesting that your relationship with Ford has enabled you to be more comfortable acknowledging your own intimacy issues. Perhaps that’s something we should explore in more detail.”
Yep.
That’s what she got for opening the damn door.
Twenty-four
THAT AFTERNOON, CHARLIE and Tucker came over to help Ford set up for his barbecue. The annual—and semi-legendary—party, which he hosted every July, reminded him of the summer barbecues his parents used to have in their townhome, when they would clear out the garage, and family and friends would mingle indoors and outdoors, sitting on lawn chairs along the driveway and in the small front yard while the kids played kickball and ghost in the graveyard in the subdivision’s adjacent field.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering: do you think that my panic attacks have anything to do with the fact that my mother was clinically depressed?”
Dr. Metzel set his pen down and studied her. “Are you asking if I think mental health issues run in your family?”
She paused, not one hundred percent sure she wanted the answer to that. “Yes.”
“There is evidence that suggests both panic attacks and depression run in families, but I don’t think the two conditions are linked in and of themselves. Meaning, I don’t think you’re genetically predisposed to panic attacks because your mother suffered from depression. But obviously, I think your childhood experiences are a large part of the reason you have control and intimacy issues.”
She’d gotten that message loud and clear during their last session. “Look, I get where you’re coming from. Maybe I do have a few barriers up,” she conceded. “But why is that necessarily a bad thing?”
“You don’t want to have healthy adult relationships?”
She sat forward in her chair. “But what is ‘healthy’? Living with someone for twenty years who will eventually come to hate you so much that she’ll go to war with you over a stamp collection that she doesn’t give a damn about? Or, being married for fifteen years to someone and then discovering that he’s had a mistress nearly the entire time? Day in, day out, I’m bombarded by relationships that were probably once ‘healthy’ but now are anything but.”
“I agree that your job provides you with many examples of unhappy relationships.”
Good. She was glad they could agree on that. “Yes, it does.”
“But I also think it provides you with a handy excuse for avoiding relationships yourself. There are happily married divorce lawyers out there.”
Victoria sat back in her chair. Well. Wasn’t he suddenly all about the psychoanalysis today?
“Let me ask you this,” Dr. Metzel continued. “The men you date: do they know how you feel about relationships?”
“Absolutely. And I purposely date men who feel the same way as I do. Not looking to settle down, just wanting to keep things casual.”
“Are you seeing anyone now?”
Victoria hesitated. Part of her didn’t want to open the door to this line of questioning. But something compelled her to continue. “Kind of, I guess. His name is Ford.”
Dr. Metzel perked up in his chair. “Okay, good. Tell me more about Ford.”
She sighed. Here we go. “He’s my next-door neighbor. When I first moved into the building, we couldn’t stand each other—that’s a whole other story—but then I got roped into helping his sister with her child support case. He and I have been spending a lot of time together with that, and I guess things just evolved from there.”
He began taking notes. “Is this a sexual relationship?”
“Indeed, it is.” She smiled cheekily, thinking back to her and Ford’s very steamy night together last Saturday. When Dr. Metzel looked up at her, she put on a more serious expression and cleared her throat.
“You said that when you first met, you and Ford couldn’t stand each other. What changed?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I guess he grew on me.”
“How so? What do you like about Ford?”
Victoria hadn’t expected that question. “For starters, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met. I mean, we’re talking blushing, giggling, oh-my-God-I-can’t-believe-how-gorgeous-this-man-is levels of hotness here.”
“So it’s a purely physical thing?” Dr. Metzel asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s only a physical attraction,” she hedged. “I suppose he can be funny at times, when he’s not trying to push my buttons.” She smiled slightly. “Clever, too, in a quick-on-his-feet kind of way. Very good writer. I would never admit this to him, but I’ve been reading his stuff in the Trib, and you can tell he’s passionate about what he’s doing. Did you know one of his stories just made the Sunday front page? Pretty impressive, huh? Don’t get me wrong, he knows he’s good; he’s got this . . . confidence that definitely gets a little out of hand at times. But beyond that, there are these moments with his sister, or his niece, when he’s protective and really very sweet. I mean, he volunteered to babysit his four-month-old niece on a Saturday night. Do you know any other single man who would do that?” She smiled. “Granted, it sounds like it was a total disaster for both him and the baby, but still—that’s adorable.”
She stopped, suddenly realizing that she’d been going on and on.
Dr. Metzel smiled softly. “He sounds like a really good guy.”
Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her chair, immediately feeling the need to clarify something. “Look, before you get all jazzed up about this, and start writing in your little notepad, you should know that nothing will ever happen between Ford and me. And that would be the case even if I didn’t have my alleged ‘intimacy issues.’”
“What makes you say that?” Dr. Metzel asked.
“Because the guy is as messed up as I am.” She half-chuckled at the truth of that. “I don’t know the whole story—actually, I don’t even know one-tenth of the story—but I do know that his father was an alcoholic who died only about a month ago and there are definitely some unresolved issues there. And besides, he told me he doesn’t do commitment.” She gestured emphatically. “Does that sound like someone I should be pursuing a relationship with? I don’t think so.”
Dr. Metzel studied her thoughtfully. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you describe yourself as ‘messed up.’ Granted, I don’t like that term, but I find it interesting that your relationship with Ford has enabled you to be more comfortable acknowledging your own intimacy issues. Perhaps that’s something we should explore in more detail.”
Yep.
That’s what she got for opening the damn door.
Twenty-four
THAT AFTERNOON, CHARLIE and Tucker came over to help Ford set up for his barbecue. The annual—and semi-legendary—party, which he hosted every July, reminded him of the summer barbecues his parents used to have in their townhome, when they would clear out the garage, and family and friends would mingle indoors and outdoors, sitting on lawn chairs along the driveway and in the small front yard while the kids played kickball and ghost in the graveyard in the subdivision’s adjacent field.
