Chapter 113

ASHER

“So, Asher, how’s the past week been for you?” Michael inquires. He’s not much older than me, just stepping into his thirties, but he doesn’t look it, to be honest.

I chose him as my therapist because he seemed the most relatable, the one I could see myself opening up to. But even then, I still grapple with the idea of talking. The elderly woman felt strange; the old man… I didn’t care for him.

So, I finally picked Michael because I was given the choice to decide or have the decision made for me. After all, I needed to progress with my sobriety. Who would have thought that sobriety would reveal a slew of issues lurking beneath the surface?

He’s not too bad. He doesn’t pass judgment, and he’s helped me find my diagnosis and some semblance of self-worth, even if it needs to grow stronger than it currently is.

“This week’s been…” How has it been?

I spent the entire week psyching myself up for last night, and I had expected more; I suppose I had wanted more.

I should have brought Maddy flowers and chocolates and made sure the apartment was filled with candles, like my fathers would have done. But I was too focused on picking her up and finally being able to hold her outside of the treatment center to plan ahead.

“It was anxiety-inducing,” I admit.

“Can you elaborate on that?” he asks, crossing his ankle over his knee.

I appreciate that he never takes notes, that he just sits in jeans and a T-shirt and has a casual conversation with me… But that one question—it terrifies me because I never know how to respond.

“I think I overwhelmed myself thinking about Maddy coming home. I spent so much time anticipating the event that the actual event fell short of my expectations.”

“How did it fall short?” he probes.

“I don’t know. Maybe I expected fireworks and glitter. But it felt like nothing more than bringing her home again.”

“So you thought there would be more between you two?”

“No, there was plenty between us, just the whole thing—it didn’t hit the right note, and I have so many regrets.”

“Can you explain your regrets?” he asks, swinging his leg back down as he fiddles with the watch on his wrist.

“I wish I’d said more, done more, made more of an effort to show her how I feel. But it was just a low-key evening of cooking dinner that ended with sex and sleep.”

“Okay. That sounds like a typical evening, Asher. Why did you want it to be more?”

“Because it was her homecoming…”

“So you see her coming home as a significant milestone that you wish had unfolded differently?”

“No…no, not at all. It happened just as it should have; it was natural. I enjoyed it…” My sentence trails off, leaving even me hanging.

~I’m so confused; if I’m happy, then why do I wish I had done more?~

Even Michael sits up, noticing something much as I just did. However, he’s quicker to catch on than I was.

“Are you afraid Maddy might reject you, Asher?”

“I… I suppose so. I mean, why wouldn’t she?”

“Why would she?” he counters.

I ponder that and confess my feelings, embarrassed that I have them at all. Apologetic that there’s a part of me, even if small, that doesn’t feel worthy of her.

“Other than financially, which isn’t due to my own merit, what else do I have to offer her? I’m a former addict who’s struggled with emotions my whole life… She’s an abused girl who craves emotions that I’m not sure I can give her.” I rush to clarify my initial explanation with the latter.

“You’re a smart and well-educated young man, Asher. And yes, while your wealth doesn’t come from years of work, it’s because your fathers value your position highly. Didn’t you graduate with honors from a business degree and early at that? Aren’t you training alongside one of your fathers to eventually take over his business when the time feels right?”

“Yes, but we’re taking things slowly, obviously, so I don’t relapse,” I explain, so he doesn’t think I’m pushing myself too hard too soon.

He nods, smiling to himself that I felt the need to clarify that to him, I think. Then he leans forward, his elbows on his thighs, his hands between his legs.

“Asher, I’m thinking you might be dealing with something called RSD. It’s short for Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Normally, it’s triggered by someone else’s opinion or criticism, but I’m wondering if your own thoughts might be setting it off. How’s the medication been treating you?”

“I’m doing okay, I guess. The cravings aren’t too bad, and my mind’s been…manageable.”

“And how about your depression? How have the negative thoughts been?”

“Okay…” I lied. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you recall our conversation about the possibility of antidepressants helping with your negative thoughts?”

“I don’t need antidepressants, Michael. I’m not on the verge of suicide—”

He raises his hand, stopping me mid-sentence, halting my spiraling disbelief that he could compare me to Til’s.

“Depression is a common issue, Asher. And no, you don’t have to be suicidal to benefit from medication. But you do need to be open to helping yourself avoid a relapse. Sobriety is challenging enough without mental health issues complicating it.”

I purse my lips, trying to remember my mother’s advice—to listen to the professional instead of jumping to my own conclusions about how to navigate this new chapter of my life.

“I’m not ready to take more drugs. I thought the whole point of sobriety was to avoid drugs, yet here I am taking two prescriptions and a bunch of fucking vitamins, Michael.”

“Fair point, Asher. Let’s monitor the situation and reassess in a few weeks.”

I nod. We continue our session, discussing various topics before he introduces me to grounding techniques like controlled breathing and tapping my wrist.

I’m relieved when the session ends, but I also feel emotionally drained as I say goodbye to him, only to run into Maddy in the hallway by the stairs.

She’s been waiting for me, alone. Michael seizes the chance to introduce himself.

He touches her hand as they shake, which only serves to piss me off.

But I bite my tongue—literally—because I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. He’s here to help, after all.

Still, I can’t deny the relief I feel when he finally says goodbye.

“You okay?” I ask Maddy as she clings to me.

“Yeah, your little sister is a bit much.”

“Indi and Lorelei?”

“No, Antalya,” she says, her eyes wide.

I can’t help but laugh. What else can I do?

Tal is…well, there’s no other way to put it. She’s a fucking force to be reckoned with.