The Sex Surrogate (18 page)

“You
are a dirty little feelings haver,” he insisted, sticking his
spoon out toward me. “I should have known. Bathrobe, mindless
TV, junk food. It's all the typical signs.”

“Oh,
what the hell do you know about feelings? You barely keep girls
around long enough to catch STDs.”

“Hardy
har,” he said, squinting his eyes at me. “I don't know
anything about feelings myself. But I know about women and their
feelings. I have four fucking older sisters, Ava. Trust me, I know.”

I
loved Jake's sisters. Their visits were worth every moment that he
drove me nuts every other day of the year. Because around them, he
cowered like a scolded dog. They attacked him about his shit all over
the apartment, about his meaningless pursuit of the perfect body,
about his using women like they were disposable. They made him do the
dishes. Sweep. Mop. Scrub the bathroom. I would come home to a
pristine apartment with dinner on the damn table. Granted, they only
stopped in maybe twice a year. But they were like mini Christmases
every time.

“You
are exhibiting all the typical signs.” At my silent clicking
around on the movie menu, he sighed. “Look, I know you think I
am just some muscle bound jerk...”

“I
don't...”

“Yes
you do,” he cut me off, smiling a little. “But it's fine.
Because I don't really give you much reason to think otherwise...”

“That's
not true. Lately...”

“But
I am actually a decent shoulder to lean on, okay? I'll listen. I'll
give you the advice you need.”

I
took a slow, deep breath, and, still staring at the TV, said, “I
have feelings for Chase.”

“There.
Was that so hard?”

“Yes,”
I shot back, glaring at him, “and you're not exactly proving
your case here, jerk.”

He
laughed, taking a spoonful of gelato and shrugging. “Hey, I'm
still me. Even when I am being helpful. So, what? You just realized
it? 'Cause you're a little slow. I've been seeing it happening for
days.”

“You
didn't think that you should have maybe filled me in on it?”

“And
let you miss out on the fun of finding out yourself?”

“Fun.
Oh, yeah. It was boatloads of fun to figure out when I was in bed
with him.”

“In
bed?” Jake asked, eyes bright.

“We're
not having sex,” I added quickly. “Not yet anyway.”

“So
you think it's legit feelings... or that thing?”

“Transference,”
I supplied. “I don't know. I think that is kind of the point of
transference. The patient doesn't know whether the feelings are real
or not.”

“Maybe
you should see your other shrink and ask her.”

My
head snapped to his. “Yet again,” I said, thinking about
his ideas for telling me to go get some sexy lingerie, “you are
a genius.”

Which
brought me to Dr. Bowler's office. Familiar. Not near as swanky as
Chase's. The waiting room had the typical, awful, brown arm chairs
with red and blue pattered seats and backs. The coffee table was
strewn with old magazines. I sat for a long half an hour before Dr.
Bowler came out of her office, giving me a kind smile. “Ava.”

“Dr.
Bowler,” I said, standing. “Thank you so much for fitting
me in today.”

“Of
course,” she said, letting me into her office and closing the
door.

The
walls were beige. She had a normal desk, a little cluttered. There
was bland artwork
on the
walls. I walked over to the brown material couch, sitting down and
waiting for her to
take
the chair across from me.

“So,
Ava, what brings you here?”

“I
think I have transference.”

Her
head looked up from her notes, her face trying to look impassive and
failing slightly. “For me?”

Oh,
ha. That was stupid of me.

“No,
no. For my sexual surrogate.”

“Oh,”
she said, looking relieved. Which was almost a little offensive.
“Okay. Well, what makes you think that?”

“Because
I like him. A lot. Way more than I should like my doctor.”

“I
have heard stories about Dr. Hudson being very attractive.”

“Whatever
the stories were,” I said, shaking my head, “I bet they
don't even come close to how good looking he actually is.”

She
offered me a conspiratory smile. “Alright. How about we start
with how your sessions are going with him?”

“I
think. I mean I know... they're going really well. And it's not just
the stuff with the sex. I think just... my confidence is improving. I
am agreeing to go out with coworkers and I am standing up to Jake.”

“That's
amazing. I'm so happy for you.” There was a silent
after
all these years
attached
to that, a mix of pity and joy.

“Thanks.
But yeah, I don't know. We are going on session five tomorrow and I
just... needed to talk to someone before we go any further.”

“Transference
is really common in just regular psychological practices. Patients
share their deepest fears and desires with their therapists. The
patient, therefore, feels closer to them than they do any other
person in their lives. That situation is exasperated, I am sure, by
an actual physical connection with said therapist. Not only do they
know you mentally and emotionally, but they also know you physically.
It is, essentially, a mock relationship. Which makes it all the more
confusing to be able to understand the professional lines.”

“When
it comes to transference, do the doctors ever...”

“Ava,
no,” she said, very firmly, very finally. There was no question
in her mind whatsoever. Chase was the doctor. Chase understood the
lines. Chase did it for a living. There was nothing in it more than
that. Ever. “I know, I sound harsh...”

“Harsh
is good,” I mumbled. I needed harsh. I needed that smiting slap
of reality across the face.

“But
the fact of the matter is, transference is almost always one sided.
And it usually fades as soon as the patient stops seeing the doctor,
usually by force when they find out. I know this is a very confusing
time for you, especially given your past. But you have to understand
that while what you are dealing with is fairly common, it is still an
unhealthy reaction. It is good that you are realizing it for what it
is. That will help you get over it. And in... five more sessions, the
feelings will likely dissipate and you will still be blessed with
having the chance to have opened you up to a wonderful human
experience.”

“Right.
Okay. Thank you so much, Dr. Bowler.”

“Ava,”
she called as I got up and made my way to the door. I turned back.
“If you need to talk, please come see me. I would really like
to see this therapy work for you. So if you need
another
ear, I am always here for you. Even if all you need to do is tell
someone about your
feelings
for him, to help you sort them out. It's good that you are getting to
the point where you want to share. And I want to make sure you don't
backtrack because of something as impermanent as transference.”

“I'll
keep that in mind, thank you again,” I said and left.

Outside,
I ran my hands over my face. Frustrated. But I had no right to be
frustrated. She had just confirmed what I knew was going on.

I
sighed, walking back to my car.

I
needed more gelato.

Enough
to fill up the hole that felt like it was growing larger by the
second.

I
was just given an opinion from an actual professional in the field
that transference was just a phenomenon. Common. Normal. That it
meant nothing. But the fact was, it didn't
feel
like nothing. That
was the problem. Transference felt
real
.
I felt like I was falling for him. I melted under his praise, so
much so that felt the need to do things to seek it out. I turned into
his hands when, in the past, all hands made me want to do was shrink
away. I felt a shiver at the way he said my name or when he called me
“baby”, “babe”, or “sweetheart”.
I was sad to leave him. I anticipated seeing him again. I fretted
about my outfits, wondering what might please him. I dreamed about
going with him places: the Italian place he took me again, the
Italian place I had suggested. I dreamed of him returning my
feelings.

His
chest was the safest place in the world.

“Fuck
fuck fuck fuck fuck me,” I grumbled, letting myself back into
my apartment, ignoring Jake as I went to my room to change back into
my fake-sick day wardrobe. I didn't even bother to stop changing when
I heard him open my door and wait for me to face him.

“Why
aren't you screaming at me to get out? I've never so much as seen you
in a bathing suit before.”

“What
the hell does it even matter?” I said, pulling pants up my bare
legs, then reaching to pull my sweatshirt over my head.

I
turned back to him, his eyes curious for a long moment. “You
know,” he said, a trademark smirk toying at his lips, “you
have some good raw materials.”

“Gee,
thanks,” I said, shaking my head and moving past him.

“You're
gonna ruin them with all that ice cream,” he said, watching me
take my half-finished gallon out of the freezer.

“Good.”

“So
I'm guessing the visit didn't go so well.”

“I
have transference. And I just have to grin and bear it until my
therapy is over.”

“What
does transference feel like?”

“Like
falling in love with someone, but it's not real.”

“That
sucks.”

“You're
telling me.”

“You're
seeing Dr. Sex tomorrow.”

“Yep.”

“That
sucks,” he repeated.

“Yep,”
I agreed again.

He
had no idea. And it was only bound to get worse before it got better.

Fifth
Session

To
say I was less than thrilled for my session was probably the biggest
understatement of the year. Not because I didn't want to see him, but
because I did. I like, really really really wanted to see him.

But
my stupid brain was just confused.

And
I couldn't talk myself out of it either.

I
tried.

For
hours.

There
was no use.

I
dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a heavy black sweater and
headed out. Black suited my mood. Black was like a way to hide from
the world.

But
there was no way to hide from Chase.

Because
soon he would have me out of my clothes again.

And
it also hadn't escaped my obsessive over thinking that our goodbye
last time had been weird. Cold. Detached. Unlike anything that had
ever been between us before. Which was the thought I had swirling
around my head as I drove there, as I walked up to the building, as I
opened the door. How things might be different. Chase might be
different. And I wasn't sure I could handle that.

“Ava,”
Chase said, nodding at me as I walked in and locked the door.

“Hey,”
I managed, taking in his tense shoulders, the muscle ticking in his
jaw.

It
looked like my fears had been founded.

My
Chase was gone.

Oh

my

god.

He
was never mine to begin with.

“You
look like you're ready to bolt.”

“Yep,”
I agreed, beyond lying. It never got me far anyway. He always knew.

“Care
to tell me why?”

Oh,
because I'm in fake love with you. No biggie. Totally normal.