A/N: Thanks for the continued kind reception you've all given this work and please continue to let me know your thoughts as we progress through the story - your feedback is invaluable!
Big shout out to accio-broom for continuing to help me smooth out the rough edges.
If you'll recall, the last time we saw our heroes was Thanksgiving, so we're skipping forward a bit in time here. Also, since this chapter and the next sort of go together, you'll be getting Chapter 13 today and Chapter 14 tomorrow as a bonus. I'll still be back next Thursday with Chapter 15. Enjoy!
April 26, 2013, 4:40pm
"It seems to me that you feel that all of your heartache, everything that hasn't gone the way you'd like it to relates back to that one night last year."
"Yeah," I said, opening my eyes as the velvet upholstered arm of the couch slid under my fingers. "I mean, I think it's obvious. September fifteenth. The date is burned into my brain."
The room was as familiar to me as my own bedroom. I'd been visiting Dr. Firenze's office every Thursday afternoon at four in the afternoon for over five years at this point, and I almost always left feeling better than when I'd arrived. That day felt like it might not be one of those good days, though.
It had been almost six months since I'd last spoken with Hermione, and we were no closer to reconciling. Aside from accidentally seeing a text that she had sent Ginny a few months ago, it was like she didn't even exist. Which is not to say that I'd stopped thinking about her, of course. There had been several times when I'd typed out a text to send to her only to erase it before I could get up the courage to press send. I was glad that I hadn't, knowing that it was up to her to make the next move. But the wait was really weighing on me. Over the last several months, my appetite had decreased and I was sure I'd lost some weight. After work, I'd usually just come home to an empty apartment, pick at some leftovers, play video games, and fall asleep early if my overactive mind would let me. I had tried working out a few times, but I could barely run a mile without gasping for air, my body having become so deconditioned that it discouraged me from trying again. Needless to say, looking at my life objectively during my therapy sessions never revealed a pretty picture.
My therapist sat up rigidly in a plush armchair across from me, a glass coffee table in between us. She was dressed in a smart-looking navy blazer and skirt combination, and she kept her notepad on her lap at all times. The space was in perfect order, not a leaf of paper was out of place, and not a speck of dust was on the carpet. Faint aromas of rose and lavender added to the calming ambiance, as did the ceiling fan slowly completing lazy revolutions overhead. Considering I'd had to relive some of my worst moments in that room, I had always been surprised at how comforting I found it nonetheless.
"I see how you could come to that assumption," said Dr. Firenze, shifting her posture in the chair.
"We were fine. Better than fine, actually. Until I threw it all away."
"That night, or more specifically, the following morning…why do you think you reacted that way, Ron?"
I scoffed as I opened my eyes, staring back at her with a sad grin. "Because I'm an idiot?"
"Let's try to minimize the negative self-talk if we can. Now I want you to really think about this. Why? What would make you respond like that?"
"Wish I could tell you."
"Please try. Your best guess, at least. This is just an exercise, there are no right or wrong answers here."
"I don't know," I said, shifting my eyes away from her and down to the floor. "Maybe because I'm scared?"
"Okay. Scared of what?"
"Scared that if we ever did start dating that I'd still find a way to screw it up."
When I ventured a glance back up at her, a small smile appeared on her face. It gave me a hint of confidence that maybe I was on the right track, at least.
"That's really great, Ron. I think that's a very insightful thing you just said. From everything you've told me about your relationship to this point, there have been a lot of missed opportunities, a lot of poor timing and miscommunication. In my experience, when two people have tried to take their relationship to the next level and things are thwarted before they can even begin, it's not uncommon to feel an increasing sense of anxiety about any future contact, romantic or otherwise."
"What about when it's almost happened half a dozen times?"
"Well, unfortunately in your case, all the greater the anxiety."
I sighed and dug my palms into my eye sockets. Despite starting to have a better understanding of my months-long torment, I was no closer to finding a solution. It was as tiring as it was infuriating.
"Okay," I began, dropping my hands to my lap. "That makes sense, but now what? How does that help me decide what to do next?"
"Well, you have to understand, Ron, that sometimes these sessions aren't going to provide you all of the answers. They're not intended to. We meet every week to help you understand why you feel the way you feel and try to help you find strategies that you can use in everyday life to be able to manage your frustrations and live a normal life. Sometimes, just understanding can be one of the things that help."
"I know, but…look, you have to understand that in my line of work, we're very solution-oriented. Problems are there to be solved, gaps and holes need to be patched. It's hard for me to recognize incremental progress as true progress because it's not the way my brain works."
"Another excellent revelation. Believe it or not, you're actually making a lot of progress today just in understanding these things about yourself."
"I wish it felt like I was making progress."
"We've been discussing this issue for months now. It may not feel like you're making progress because you still can't fix things, but at least you better grasp why you don't feel that way, right? This is the first time I've seen you come to those conclusions on your own, and I think it represents a real evolution of your mindset."
She was right. Leaning back against the comfortable cushions of the sofa, I tried to wrap my mind around what we had talked about. Perhaps it would be helpful to shift my way of thinking. I figured that it couldn't hurt to stop conceptualizing this whole thing as a situation that needed to be solved and instead just focus on my own reaction.
"I see your point," I said. "Although it's hard to think about it that way because it's an admission that it's completely out of my control, and I don't like that feeling."
"Nobody does, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."
"You know, I found myself walking past her apartment the other day. It was the first really nice day of the spring so I took a walk just to be outside. I wasn't even aware of where I was going until suddenly I looked up and I was right down the street from her apartment."
A frown came across her face, although one that I'd anticipated. "Ron, I'll be honest, that worries me a little. We've talked about the need for boundaries-"
"I know, I know," I interrupted, nonetheless feeling a little dirty. "It wasn't like that, though. I never would've…rang the bell or anything. I didn't do anything but walk past. But when I did, I noticed that the window had changed. Everything was completely different. There was a poster of some UFC guy, and Hermione hates all that stuff. She must have moved."
"I see. How did you feel when you noticed that?"
"Kind of numb, almost. It was strange, she'd only lived there for a year or so, so it wasn't like I had all these memories of the place. But I realized that, for the first time in my life since I'd met her, I didn't know where she lived. Even when she was in L.A. I always had her address. But now? I don't even know if she's still in the city or not. She probably is; she's still in touch with Harry and Ginny, and I think they'd mention if she left. Still, though, it's a very strange feeling to not know where my best friend lives."
"And yet, you just mentioned the idea of control not one minute ago. So, let's talk about control. Is it under your control whether she tells you where her new apartment is?" she asked, snapping me back out of the trance I had fallen into.
"No, I suppose not. It's just strange not knowing."
"As long as it isn't under your control, it isn't worth spending your time and energy worrying about it."
"I know, but…it's like I can't even help it. My mind just goes to these places completely involuntarily. I wish I could stop it, believe me, but it's hopeless. Even all these months later, even though I haven't seen her in ages and have no idea whether I will any time soon, I still love her. It's not even up to me. I mean, who would sign up for this kind of torture voluntarily?"
"I don't doubt your words, Ron," she replied, still stony-faced and not betraying any of her emotions on the subject. "I simply wonder if you're doing what you can to try to move on with your life instead of waiting for her to call."
"Right, I see."
Dr. Firenze paused, making a few notes on her pad as the silence stretched on. My insides squirmed and I always had to swallow down a wave of nausea each time she scribbled something about me. I understand that it was part of the process, and she'd been doing it for years, but I always wished I knew what she was writing. A whole notebook full of stuff about me was just sitting in her desk drawer at all times. It was a bizarre thought.
After several moments, she looked back up at me, brushed the hair out of her face, and continued, "Let's change gears. I want to take the rest of our time to discuss your support structure. Who are you leaning on these days? Who in your life can you really trust and talk to about the things that are bothering you?"
My heart sank. It almost felt like I was getting in trouble. Even though I'd promised my mother that I wasn't going to turn into a loner, I really hadn't done much socially in the last several months at all. "Well, I see Harry and Ginny sometimes. Ever since they got married, though, they've been doing their own thing a lot. They seem to be busy in the evenings after work way more than they used to be. I don't know, I get it, they're newlyweds. They've got to move on with their lives. And some of it I don't even want to consider because it's my sister, you know?"
"Yes, I understand," Dr. Firenze replied with a chuckle.
"Every now and then we'll still have hangouts at our apart-my apartment with our work friends, but we've only done one in the last few months. Work has been busy lately, which is actually a good thing, I think."
"Alright, what else? Family? Other friends?"
"I talk with my mom and dad every now and then, but every time I call, they just nag me about totally unimportant things. Like, for example, my mom always wants to know that I'm cleaning out my lint trap in the dryer so that I don't have a fire in the apartment. I've been remembering to do that every time since I was eighteen, so, you know, it's getting a little old."
"I'm sure she's just worried about you; it's what mothers do."
"I know. But I'm almost thirty. It's starting to become patronizing."
"Who else?" she asked, plowing forward.
"My brothers, I suppose. I talk with some of them more than others, but we have a big group text that's always pretty active."
"And what do you discuss with your brothers?"
"Just shooting the shit, mostly. Football, their kids, what to get our parents for their birthdays, that kind of thing."
"Have you ever really talked with them about your life?"
"Not really," I said, trying to recall the last time anyone asked about me besides sending congratulations when I got a promotion. "We just don't have that kind of relationship, I guess. My oldest brother Bill and I talked about Hermione last Thanksgiving, but not since then. Which is fine with me."
"I'm sure it doesn't bother you not to talk about it, but it can be helpful to discuss these things with people with whom you feel comfortable like your family. Perhaps they'd be more understanding than you think."
"Maybe. My mom is always asking about girlfriends and stuff. She has plenty of grandkids already, so it's not, like, constant hounding or anything the way it was for my older brothers, but…I don't know, I just think she worries about me especially now that I'm living alone."
"How often do you talk with your mother?" she asked, making a few more notes.
Oedipal questions, how cliche.
"Umm, like once or twice a month?"
Adjusting her skirt as she somehow sat up even straighter, Dr. Firenze took a moment to review her notes, skimming through the pages at the very beginning of her notepad before turning her attention back to me and removing her reading glasses.
"Ron, I'm concerned that you're becoming a bit isolated," she said very matter-of-factly. "I remember having conversations like this when we first met when you were in grad school, and you ended up doing an excellent job of making friends and building a life for yourself. I know that you're capable of forming relationships easily, and you have many extroverted tendencies. So, it worries me to now see that you're withdrawing again, especially at a time when I think you could benefit from being more social. You're talking about occasional contact with family, significantly less contact with the people you identify as your best friends, and good, albeit somewhat compulsory relationships with your colleagues. But that's about it."
"Okay…"
"Do you agree?"
I scratched the back of my neck as I considered her question. It had been a long time since I'd been out at a bar or gone to a movie with anyone. Aside from a couple of gatherings at my apartment, I was hard-pressed to think of anything I'd done socially since the holidays. And forget about dating. "I suppose, yeah."
"And do you agree that that's a bit of an issue?"
"Maybe? I don't mind being alone, I can entertain myself."
"I understand that," she continued. "But it's not just about entertainment. It's about connection, having someone that you can talk to besides your therapist. Now I'm not suggesting that you have to change who you are or become someone different, just…maybe try something new. Take a cooking class in the evening. Sign up for a racquetball tournament at the Midtown Athletic Club. Volunteer for a local charity. You never know, you might meet people that you really connect with."
"Like a girlfriend?"
"I didn't say that, you did. I've been intentionally cautious to not frame things that way."
Busted. "You got me, doc," I said, hoping that my face wasn't turning red.
"When people are constantly thinking about unrequited love for one person, it becomes very hard to let anyone else in. The mind can become so unilaterally focused on one objective that it ignores any other possibilities, romantic or otherwise. It's not a healthy way to live, though, and often leads people to abandon the things that have brought them happiness in the past. Do you think there might be people or opportunities in your life that you can let in a bit more? Situations where you might be discounting the chance that you could enjoy spending time with others?"
God knows why, but as soon as I heard her question, the first person that came to mind was Katie Bell. Ever since Hermione had left, it seemed to me that Katie had been making an effort to see me more frequently during the workday and to eat lunch at the same table as me. I still wasn't sure if I could ever envision anything non-platonic happening between us, but she was pretty and we already knew that we got along well. Would it really be so bad to give it a try?
"I guess so. I haven't really been thinking about it because I feel like I'm fine either way, but there are opportunities."
"Okay. Ultimately, it's up to you, but I think that would be a good thing to pursue."
"I can give it a try. Some of my colleagues have always been really nice."
"That sounds great. And again, I just want you to think of it as an opportunity to do something with people instead of on your own. Try to develop your support system a bit more."
"I understand. Maybe I can just start by getting a drink with someone from work. I bet I could think of a couple of people that would agree. As you said, what's the worst thing that could happen?" I said, even though I was already thinking about how weird it might be.
"As long as you know that it's a low-stress encounter. Don't put any pressure on yourself to replicate what you had with anyone else. This is about forging new friendships, not replacing anything or anyone."
Fat chance anyone could ever replace Hermione in my mind.
"Right, that's a good idea. And I'll try to keep that frame of reference, I promise."
"Good," Dr. Firenze said, standing up and smoothing her outfit as she laid down her notebook and walked towards the door. "I believe our time is about up for today, but I look forward to seeing you next week. I hope that we can talk about some of the ways that you've been able to put yourself out there a bit more than you have been."
"I'll do my best. Thanks, Dr. Firenze," I said as I collected my jacket.
"You're welcome, Ron. Have a great weekend and I'll see you next week."
I zipped the front of my coat as I stepped outside her door and down the flight of stairs to street level.
Other people, huh? Worth a shot, I suppose.