tristan
“Tristan?”
I blinked. I shook my head. I wasn’t in that smelly, disgusting, terrible apartment in New York, a serial killer’s lair. I was in my shrink’s office, sitting on the worn-out couch, staring out the window.
“Yes, I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere today.” I plastered a smile on my face so I could pretend for the psychiatrist’s sake that I was okay, but inside, I was not.
“Can you tell me about it? Tell me where your mind is,” she said.
Doctor Mendelen was a woman in her sixties, about my aunt’s age, with short dark hair and an olive complexion. I had been seeing her for years, but before, it was me trying to decide if I should come out as gay. Now I was dealing with a whole boatload of problems.
There was a serial killer on the loose, the same one who had kidnapped me and my boyfriend–turned fiancé and kept us captive in an apartment where he held trophies from his earlier kills…
“Tristan? It helps to voice the problem and lay it out in front of you so you can weigh it, touch it, and deal with it.”
I took a deep breath and started talking.
“I proposed to my boyfriend. We’re engaged now.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic. Congratulations, Tristan. That’s amazing. Look how far you’ve come. From warring with your emotions to letting your true self step into the sunlight. You made that leap and then took it a step further. You’ve come so far. So, why aren’t you happy?”
“I am. Happy, that is. It’s just that Bobby, the gorgeous, understanding, wonderful man he is, doesn’t understand that we shouldn’t be throwing parties now when there’s a killer on the loose. Doesn’t he remember what he did to us?”
“Bobby sounds amazing. But I am sure he is trying to process what happened to the both of you just as much as you are, but you must understand that everyone processes emotions differently. It looks like he’s trying to focus on the future instead of dwelling on the past, on the positive instead of the negative. That’s what I want you to do as well.”
I let out an audible groan and flopped back against the chaise lounge. The emerald green velvet was soft under my fingers, so I stroked it while thinking about what to say.
“I’m trying.” I groaned and then sat back up and turned to look at Dr Mendelen. “Jacquie, do you want to attend our engagement party next weekend?”
“Oh, Tristan, I would be honoured,” she smiled.
And at last, I returned a genuine one, feeling a thousand pounds lighter.
“It’s time to focus on the positives and the future,” I said.
“Yes. It is.”