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TWENTY-THREE

Ella

I CAN’T EVEN GO to therapy without seeing Blake. I’m flipping through a People magazine in the waiting area, only to find his dumb, handsome face smiling up at me. It’s a red-carpet photo from some Marvel movie premiere he went to last week. Fuck that. The room’s empty since it’s a Friday night at seven o’clock—the only time my therapist could squeeze me in—so no one sees me dramatically toss the magazine in the trash.

“Ella,” my therapist Cindy greets me. She’s wearing a deep brown lipstick, but somehow there are no smudges of it on the mug she’s holding. “It’s great to see you.”

“You too.” I follow her into her spacious office, noting the potted plants that have taken up residence on her windowsill. The soft lighting of the room eases my nerves as I settle into the gray couch facing her chair.

I spend the next twenty minutes giving her a condensed recap of my past five months. She nods, occasionally asking questions while jotting things down in her notebook. Once I’m done speaking, I take a deep breath. I feel like I just gave a commencement speech or something.

“How do you feel about seeing Blake next week once your break is over?”

“Nervous,” I say. “I mean, overall I feel great … besides that. For the first time in a while, I feel like I’m in a really good spot professionally and personally. I just don’t want my feelings for Blake to affect that, you know?”

I cringe at my own words. It sounds like I’m in fifth grade complaining about a stupid boy not liking me back.

“I’m pissed that I thought he could want more than just sex,” I admit. “We have such a great time together. It’s just … I don’t know how to explain it. Everything with him is just easy. It feels so right. But God forbid he forms any sort of an emotional attachment.”

My words sound just as bitter as they taste. Blake’s made it clear where he stands with the paparazzi pictures of him leaving clubs with Titty Titty Bang Bang and Ms. Silicone Valley two days into the break. I may not be able to mute him in real life, but at least I can mute celebrity gossip sites on social media. Can’t escape a People magazine, though.

“I get why that would be frustrating,” Cindy says, her voice soothing my annoyance. “Relationships require a lot of responsibility and Blake may not be at a point where he knows how to value something deeper.”

“I wear oversized shirts and sweatshirts most of the time,” I point out. “And he still only sees me for sex. How is that even possible? It’s not exactly great for my self-esteem.”

“Physical connection is common, but mental connection? That’s rare. It’s why it’s a lot harder to find.”

She sounds just like my mom. I wonder if they colluded before my appointment.

Cindy crosses her legs before asking, “When you kissed, did you feel like you were in control of the situation?”

I take a moment to think about it. After everything with Connor, the idea of putting myself in a vulnerable position with a man holds zero appeal. “I didn’t feel like he would take advantage of me or anything like that. It was obvious he wanted me to be cool with a casual bang, but once I said no, he respected that.”

“That’s great.” Cindy smiles at me. “Even if the situation didn’t end how you wanted it to, you were given an opportunity to regain your sense of personal control and you took it. That’s big, Ella.”

For every negative thought I have, Cindy’s always there to give me two positive ones.

“George suggested I apply to jobs in London at the end of the season,” I say, pivoting the conversation away from Blake.

“Would you be interested in moving to London?”

“I’d definitely consider it,” I say, surprising even myself. “Getting away from this city was probably the best thing I could’ve done for myself, but moving there full-time is a big commitment.”

“It is,” she agrees. “What kind of jobs would you be interested in pursuing?”

“Blake got me a portable podcasting set,” I admit. I’d failed to mention that in my recap. “I tried using it once and panicked, so I don’t think podcasting is a viable option.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I can’t even hit record without freaking out.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping through my bones. “How can I podcast if that’s how I react? I just want to move the hell on already, you know?”

“Wanting to let the past be the past is a normal part of the recovery process, Ella,” Cindy reminds me. “But eventually, we need to deal with our fears in order to heal and take control of our lives. If you could podcast without those feelings of fear and panic, is it something you would want to pursue?”

Listening to a podcast is like hanging out with friends while they discuss your favorite things. Being the person to create that? Fucking magical. I miss it.

“Yes, but I’m scared,” I reveal after a minute of silence. It’s somehow simple yet so complicated. “Connor is an absolute piece of shit, but he’s also the reason my podcast got so big. What if I’m not successful on my own? What if I can’t do it without him ? What if he somehow ruins podcasting for me all over again? I don’t know how I’d handle that.”

“You define your own success, Ella,” Cindy states matter-of-factly. “Success to you may mean getting X number of downloads, but it could also mean scoring your dream guest. Hell, it could even be just hitting record on the set that Blake got you. You’re in charge of setting goals for yourself.”

It’s no wonder I’m paying her the big bucks that thankfully my insurance covers.

“I feel like I have a before and an after,” I admit. “Sort of a B.C. and an A.D., if you will. The B.C. is PlayMedia, Connor, and my podcast. The A.D. is Formula 1 and writing. I’m not sure how I feel about mixing the two.”

Cindy purses her lips in thought. “If we put areas of our lives into tiny boxes and keep them locked away, one day all those boxes are going to pop wide open and we’re going to be left with a really messy floor. I think if we can acknowledge that parts of our past can productively flow into our present or future, we’re setting ourselves up for success.”

I feel like she’s Ebenezer Scrooge making me look at the past, present, and future. “So like a Venn diagram instead of a box?”

“That’s a great way of thinking about it.” She nods, pieces of hair falling out of her clip. “Let’s reframe it. Instead of thinking about what you lost, think about what you stand to gain if you get back into podcasting without PlayMedia.”

Cindy stays quiet, giving me time to think. “Um, I guess I’d have more of a say in who I choose to interview. And I could work with sponsors whose products I actually use and like. I’d also have complete creative control, which would be really nice.”

“Those are all great things.” Her smile is supportive. “Rather than seeing podcasting as something you need to leave behind in order to move on, I challenge you to think about how to adapt it to what you want to do and who you want to be.”

“What I want to do is get a drink.” I sigh, sinking back into the couch. Therapy is simultaneously the best and the worst. “This is a lot to think about.”

We spend the rest of our session discussing ways to neutralize podcasting as a trigger so that I can make it my own and regain a sense of power over it. I leave Cindy’s office and head to SoHo to meet my friends at our favorite bar. I find a glass of wine waiting for me. Home sweet home . I take a long sip before greeting them.

“I’m taking it you had a fun time with Cindy?” Poppy asks, raising an eyebrow. Anyone eavesdropping would think we’re discussing a good friend of ours. Not someone I pay to listen to me vent and cry.

“An absolute ball.” I elbow her lightly in the side. “What’ve you guys been up to? Did I miss anything fun?”

I immediately regret asking the question when it’s revealed that Poppy and Jack think that me flirting with random guys will help keep my mind off Blake. According to Pop, it’s the perfect way to prove I’m over him. Screw a glass of wine. I need the whole fucking bottle.

“What about him? He’s cute.”

Poppy points out some finance bro in a Brooks Brother button-down and Hermes belt. She knows I don’t do casual hookups, but she’s insistent that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Flawed philosophy in my opinion.

“If he’s so cute, then why don’t you talk to him?” I reply with an unamused smile.

“He looks like he’d talk about his fraternity bros for an hour,” Jack adds. “Or would ask you about Nasdaq and try to explain Bitcoin to you.”

Every guy she’s tried to push me toward, I have an excuse for. Is he handsome or does he just look like he has a house in the Hamptons? Is he attractive or does he just have a sense of style? Is he hot or is he just tall? I’m asking the hard-hitting questions as per usual.

“You’re making it extremely difficult to cheer you up.” She sips on her drink, slamming the glass back down on the table. “How about the guy in the blue polo drinking the Manhattan?”

“He looks like someone you’d see on Dateline ,” Jack muses with an eye roll. “I’m going to have to pass on Ella’s behalf.”

“I’m fine,” I interject. “I don’t need to flirt or sleep with someone to prove that. I just want to have a fun night out with my two best friends. Can we do that?”

“We are having fun,” Poppy argues. Suddenly, her eyes widen. Nothing good can come from that look. “Okay, a really, really cute guy just walked in.”

Jack lets out a low whistle. “I agree with Poppy on this one. He’s just your type, El. Tall, dark, and handsome. Sort of a mysterious vibe going on.”

“Oh! Does he also have a devilish smile and a rumbling laugh?” I ask, feigning interest. “Or what about a jawline that could cut glass? Does he have that? Let me know if he has an accent because I’m a sucker for those too.”

“Ugh,” Poppy moans. “No! We weren’t trying to remind you of Blake.”

“He’s trouble, Ella,” Jack comments with a pointed look.

It takes me a second to remember that Josie’s back in London and isn’t about to belt into “I Knew You Were Trouble (Taylor’s Version)” or “Bad Reputation” in response to Jack.

I sigh with a shrug. “Well, at least I didn’t waste a customized condom on him.”