Perfection. That's a word that has a double edged sword plunged into my stomach. I feel the knots forming just thinking about the word and how valuable it is to my life. Growing up, my parents always told me that I was the perfect child, even to this day they think that I'm perfect, but all I feel is anguish and disgust because I know I'm anything but. People might say that I'm hard on myself, but I just see it as me pushing forward in the right direction. The school week has gone by relatively quick and now I'm faced with the fact that it's Saturday. My first appointment with Dr. Chandler. My foot was tapping nervously in the waiting room while Alison read a magazine. I couldn't control my anxiety and she noticed. I felt her put a hand on my leg to steady it.
"It's going to be okay Em," she soothes. She grabs my hand and traces patterns with my thumb and I relax immediately. After ten minutes of waiting a woman in her mid thirties appears.
"Emily Fields?" she asks and I stand not wanting to let go of Alison's hand. I almost walk away with it until I hear her call me.
"Em, I need my hand," she says and I chuckle nervously returning it softly to her lap.
"Sorry, I'm just nervous," I say at eye level with her and she leans forward to give me a peck on my lips.
"I know, I'm right outside," she reassures me. I stand back up and start to walk towards the woman. She holds out her hand for introductions.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Lisa Chandler, you can call me anything, doc, Lisa, Chandler, whatever you feel comfortable with," she says as she's shaking my hand and leading me back to an office at the end of the hall. Once I enter I see it's beautiful. The walls are painted white and most of the furniture is white which gives it an elegant and spacious feeling. I look towards the window and see the Philadelphia area beneath us since we're on the 20th floor of a building.
"It's beautiful right?" she asks and I turn back to see her smiling.
"Very much so," I respond.
"Please take a seat, make yourself at home," she says and I decide on a chair.
"So Emily, I see that you're here for sex addiction," she says and I nod.
"Can you tell me more about yourself?" she asks and I nod. It's silent for a minute before she speaks again. "You know in order for this to work, you have to talk," she says softly.
"Oh sorry, I was speaking in my head I guess," I say nervously.
"It's okay to be nervous. Is this your first time seeing a therapist?" she asks.
"No," I respond.
"Oh, whom did you see?" she asks.
"Dr. Sullivan," I respond.
"What was that for?" she asks.
"It was to deal with the death of our friend," I say.
"And what happened?" she asks writing all this down.
"She's not dead anymore. She's in the waiting area," I say and she looks up in shock. "Yeah I had that same reaction".
"She's the girl from Rosewood who came back from the dead?" she asks.
"Yeah she'd be the one," I say with a chuckle.
"Well I'm glad she's safe," she says and I nod. "So tell me more about yourself".
"I'm 18, I go to high school in Rosewood. I swim and I got a full ride to Stanford in the fall," I say thinking I was done.
"Tell me more about your family life," she says with a pen and pad in hand.
"My father is in the military and my mom used to work in the police department," I say.
"So is your father deployed a lot?" she asks.
"Yes, he's actually leaving tomorrow," I say.
"Oh I'm sorry to hear that," she says.
"Thank you," I say.
"So how do you think that affects you?" she asks.
"Not too much I mean I miss him, but it's his job," I say.
"So you don't think it's impacted your relationship with him?" she asks and I consider it for a minute.
"Well I mean we're close but I don't get to talk to him as often as normal fathers and daughters do," I say.
"How does that make you feel?" she asks.
"Angry I guess," I say.
"Explain," she prompts.
"Well I'm angry that he didn't choose another career field and that I've missed so many things with him, but I'm not necessarily angry at him because I don't like to be when I know there's a chance he might not come home," I say.
"I see, and have you told him about your feelings?" she asks and I shake my head.
"No," I say.
"Why not?" she asks.
"I don't want to upset him or make him feel guilty for being in the military," I say.
"How does your mom deal with it?" she asks.
"She seems okay, although she breaks down the first two days and then after that she picks herself back up," I say.
"What do you mean picks herself back up?" she asks.
"Well Rosewood is a small town and I kind of have the title of resident sweetheart. My mom loves to bake and cook and be the perfect host and wife and mother," I say surprised at how open I'm being.
"Hmm, it's interesting that you use perfect," she says.
"Why?" I ask.
"You tell me," she says and I look in confusion. "Why do you use perfect to describe your mother?"
"Well because…." I say not able to finish the sentence.
"Go on," she encourages.
"It's just that she's always told me that perfection is something to seek. She really is the perfect mother, wife and friend. She dresses perfectly, acts like a lady, perfect manners and etiquette, she doesn't even curse," I rant.
"How does it make you feel?" she asks.
"It makes me feel like I'll never meet their expectations because I'm not perfect but they think I am. They think I'm the perfect daughter because I have good grades, I'm the best swimmer in the state, I'm going to Stanford in the fall, everyone thinks I'm sweet and innocent and morally sound," I say with a bite.
"Why do you think you're not perfect?" she asks.
"Because I'm gay and I lie and I make mistakes," I say.
"Why do you think being gay takes away from perfection?" she asks.
"Because all my life I was taught that there is no sex before marriage and marriage is between a man and a woman," I say.
"Why do you lie?" she asks.
"Because it protects people from getting hurt," I say.
"How would the truth hurt people?" she asks.
"People could die," I say and she looks worried.
"Explain," she says.
"Nothing leaves this room right?" I ask hesitantly.
"That's correct, everything is confidential," she says.
"You can't write this down either," I say and she turns off the tape recorder and puts her pen and pad on the table.
"Okay, I've done what you've asked," she says.
"About three years ago, after Ali had been missing a year. My friends and I started receiving text messages that would expose our secrets. We did everything they asked and eventually it turned into us lying to protect the lies we told. It was a whirlwind and it turns out that Alison was also being blackmailed before she faked her death. This A person controlled every waking second of our lives to the point that we started jumping at the sound of our phones ringing and creaking on the floorboards," I rant.
"Did you tell the cops?" she asks.
"No, they would never believe us. This A person made them think we were liars. Some of the people involved in this were law enforcement," I say.
"I see, does this still go on?" she asks.
"Yes," I say. "Please keep this to yourself. It could be very dangerous for you and your family if you try and look into it or write anything down. Dr. Sullivan went missing when this A person found out that she knew everything. I'm sorry for getting you involved," I say and tears start to come out of my eyes.
"Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise this stays between us and it always will. I just want to help you through all your problems. You can contact me anytime of the day," she says writing her number on the back of her card.
"Thank you," I say taking it and putting it in my wallet.
"That's it for today, but make another appointment for next weekend," she says and I nod before she leads me to the front desk.
"Hello, schedule Emily for next Saturday at noon," she says. I see Alison stand beside us and squeeze my hand.
"Ready to go?" she asks as the lady is handing me a card for my appointment time.
"Bye Emily, I will see you next weekend," she says before patting me on the back and going to her office. Alison and I walk out towards my car and I get in the driver's seat.
"How was it?" she asked.
"It was okay," I say.
"Do you think it's helping?" she asks.
"Yeah I do," I say with a sigh of relief that I have someone to talk about this with.
"Good," she smiled brightly before I start the car and take off for my house.
"You do realize that we're going out tonight," I say with a smile.
"You mean like on a…" she says.
"Date!" I finish with a smile and she squeals.
"Where are you taking me?" she asks.
"That's for me to know and for you to find out," I smirk and she pouts.
"Come on, I don't like surprises," she says and I glare at her. "Okay I don't like to be surprised".
"Well get used to it," I stick out my tongue.
"Very mature," she smirks.
"I've never been accused of being the mature one in the group. That's Spencer's duty," I say and we both laugh.
"SO then you should drop me off so I can get ready," she says.
"Why? You look fine now," I say and she scoffs.
"No, I need to get ready and you better change!" she says firmly.
"Fine mom!" I say and she feigns being hurt.
"You're taking me on a date and you call me your mom? Are you into that kind of stuff?" she teases.
"Eww! I may have certain interests but that is not one of them," I frown when a visual comes in mind.
"I'm just kidding," she says and kisses my cheek. "But I'm interested in knowing your interests," she whispers in my ear making me shudder.
"You'll find out, but not tonight," I say seriously. "I think we should cool it in the sex area," I say.
"What?" she all but yells in my ear. "Why?" she asks.
"I know how we started and I notice that I haven't been treating you like my girlfriend, more like friends with benefits. We jumped into "the pool" quickly and I think this is our do over. I want us to get it right this time," I reason while pulling up to her house and cutting the engine.
"Okay," she says quietly.
"There's no one else, just you. I want to take this slow," I say reading her mind.
"Okay," she says reassured and responds to the kiss.
"Now get out and wear something fancy," I wink before she closes the door. I make it back to my house and run into my father.
"Hey Em, got any plans tonight?" he asks.
"Yeah, my first date with Alison," I say.
"First?" he asks with a frown.
"Yeah, we kind of started backwards," I say with a blush returning to my cheeks.
"Ahh I see. What do you have planned?" he asks.
"I'm taking her to that new French restaurant that opened in Philly, then after that, we're going to go to our special place," I say.
"Sounds like a great date. Here you go," he says handing me over three large bills.
"Oh I don't need that dad," I say but he shakes his head and puts it in my hand.
"Just have fun tonight. You both deserve it," he smiles before taking off. I go upstairs to shower and I put on a black dress that has spaghetti straps. It flows down and hugs to my hips and lets loose at my thighs. I decide between three pairs of heels and opt for the four-inch stilettos. I put on my makeup and curl my hair slightly and check the time to notice that it's 5:30. The reservations are for 7 so I quickly make my way to her house. I knock on her door and she opens it to reveal a mint blue dress that hugs to her entirely. It makes her eyes glow and look icy at the same time. She's wearing make up with subtle pink lipstick.
"You look gorgeous," "You look amazing," we say at the same time and blush furiously.
"Come on," I say extending my hand for her to take. We drive in relative silence, after five minutes of her probing me for answers. We arrive at the restaurant.
"You didn't!" she says in shock.
"I did," I say.
"But it takes months to get a reservation," she says. Of course she'd know that. "How?" she asks.
"A good journalist must never reveal her source," I laugh.
"Good thing you're not a journalist," she retorts and I bring my hand to my heart.
"So what the hell am I?" I laugh back. The valet opens my door and I hand him the keys. We walk inside to reveal a dim lit room filled with various patrons.
"Fields for two," I say to the host and she nods before taking us back to a private area.
"How did you manage to pull this off?" she asks.
"I may know a person or two," I smirk.