3. Jo

Playlist: Hello | GROUPLOVE

Nic: jojo i’m so sorry

Nic: we were going to talk to you about it when nellie left

Nic: promise

Nic: josh made this dorky ass powerpoint and everything

Nic: please text me back

Nic: i’m sorry

Nic: i love you

Nic: jo?

Delivered.

“So you just left?”

“I just left.” It’s the day after I walked out of Josh’s house and I’m doing virtual therapy on my bed with Alena, my therapist of two years.

“Why?” Alena asks, tilting her head.

I want to tell her to stop psychoanalyzing me, to stop asking questions and trying to get in my head.

But I guess that’s what my twenty dollar copay is for.

“I got so anxious,” I admit, shame creeping in my body like a thick, humid fog. “It felt like everything was closing in around me, like everyone knew about this big thing that impacts me…except for me.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Did it remind you of Kelsey moving out?”

“Yeah. And I know it’s not the same thing at all—”

“But your trauma doesn’t,” she interrupts and I glare at her through my laptop camera.

“I don’t have trauma,” I remind her. She’s my therapist, she should know I’m perfectly fine and untraumatized.

She sighs. “Right. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about your need to not have trauma.”

“That’s not fair,” I argue.

“You’re right. Your refusal to recognize that your relationship and subsequent breakup were traumatic. You’re never going to move on and heal, and that isn’t fair.”

I stare at her, mouth agape. Alena’s constantly calling me out on bullshit, but never to this extent.

“That’s—I’m fine. Great. Wonderful,” I stammer.

Alena’s eyes search my face, and I know she doesn’t buy it. Luckily, she seems to cut her losses and not push it.

“You mentioned that you skipped work today, too,” she continues, glancing down at her notes.

“Yeah, I just needed time to take care of myself after last night.”

“How have you done that?” she asks, scribbling something on a notepad.

“Done what?”

“Taken care of yourself.”

“I’ve taken my antidepressants, and I came to therapy…” I trail off.

I’ve been in therapy and on antidepressants consistently for almost twelve years. Ever since my sophomore year of high school, when my parents dragged me to a psychiatrist who prescribed me Prozac and referred me to a therapist.

I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, meaning depression isn’t just an emotion for me, but a constant part of my life. I’ve had several depressive episodes throughout my life, times where I’m so tired and low I can’t get out of bed for days. Times when I have such low interest in life that I forget to brush my teeth for weeks. Medication and therapy help these episodes happen less frequently, but there’s only symptom management, not complete eradication.

“And I’m so glad you didn’t cancel your appointment today, Jo,” Alena says softly. “I think you need to process this news.”

“Yeah. And not rehash the past,” I say pointedly.

“You control these sessions. You know that. But do you honestly think your reaction to the news has nothing to do with Kelsey?”

I groan and slump against my headboard. “I guess not.”

“Why is that? How does this remind you of what Kelsey did?” she asks, chewing on her pen cap.

“Do we have to do this?”

“No. We don’t have to do anything. But I think it would be helpful.” Alena pauses. “Why are you so averse to talking about it?”

“Because it’s selfish. Because I should be so happy for Nic. Josh is so great and she’s never been happier and I’m—” I inhale shakily. “And I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

I haven’t cried since before Kelsey left, but I have that heavy, squeezing feeling that usually precedes tears. The feeling that makes breathing hurt. With one deep breath, I could crumble to pieces.

Then what good would forcing myself to go to therapy today do?

“How did it feel to get the news from Nellie?” Alena asks softly.

I shudder as a chill spreads in my chest. “God, it felt awful, like I was the only one out of the loop. Like reality wasn’t real. Maybe I would’ve taken it better if Nic had been the one to tell me, or if it weren’t two days before I was supposed to get married.”

She nods thoughtfully. “That’s a lot. And I’m so happy you’re going to book club and aren’t working overtime, but I want to see you heal. You’re not going to do it in this protective bubble you’ve created. It’s a valiant attempt to protect yourself from the harm you experienced in the past, but that same bubble is keeping the good stuff from getting to you.”

“I feel trapped,” I admit. “I know I put myself in this bubble, but I can’t figure out how to pop it.”

“Baby steps. You coming to therapy and taking your meds is a great start.” She taps her pen against her mug. “How are your other symptoms? Any fatigue or struggles with hygiene?”

I shrug. “Not more than usual.”

Alena nods thoughtfully. “How do you feel about calling Nic and asking to do a movie night? Tell her you’re not ready to talk about it yet, but that you want to spend time with her. ”

“That still feels too big. Too hard,” I sigh.

“Then go smaller. Text her. Send her a TikTok or a meme.”

I try to stay present for the rest of my therapy session, but I can feel myself dissociating in an attempt to not feel the uncomfortable feelings that have been following me around since yesterday.

When we end the session, I do what Alena suggested and text Nic.

Jo: hey

Jo: sorry i freaked

Nic: don’t kill me.

Jo: what did you do

Nic: you weren’t answering my texts so i called your office and left a message

Jo: ok

Nic: kelsey called me back

Jo: what the fuck?!?!

Jo: she shouldn’t have access to my voicemail

Nic: she said you didn’t go to work and i got worried it was because of me and may have mentioned that…

Nic: jo, why didn’t you remind me about tomorrow?

Jo: fuck

Nic: we would’ve waited to bring it up if we knew, promise.

Jo: i know

Nic: if it’s too much i can stay at josh’s and it’s no big deal, but if it’s okay with you, i’m feeling a hankering for miss congeniality and ice cream

Jo: ugh

Jo: fine

Nic comes home after work, and we watch Miss Congeniality and eat ice cream.

“When are you moving out?” I finally find the courage to ask halfway through the movie.

Nic swallows her mouthful of ice cream. “I’m not.”

I freeze, spoon halfway to my mouth. “What the hell do you mean you’re not?”

“Josh and I talked about it and agreed we should wait until our lease is up. It’s a short walk and I’ll still stay over—”

“Nic, don’t be absurd. You two want to move in together, and that’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

Nic digs her spoon into her ice cream. “He’s willing to wait longer, and I am too. You’re important to us, JoJo.”

“It’s not that you’re moving out, it’s that I feel so trapped. I’m still the me Kelsey left, and you’re a brand new Nic. You’re doing such great things and I’ve never seen you so happy in your own skin and I—”

My big sister scooches closer to me and puts her head on my shoulder. “I understand,” she says softly. “I wish I had remembered it was harder than normal this week for you, we could’ve made plans to distract you. Do you want to go out tomorrow?”

“I didn’t want you to know or make plans. I don’t want to be a—”

Her head snaps up and she glares at me. “Don’t you dare say burden.”

I shut my mouth.

“You’re not , JoJo. You’re in pain and that makes you a human, not a burden.”

“I’m so happy you and Josh found each other,” I whisper, trying to swallow the lump that’s grown in my throat. “I just feel so alone. And I don’t know how I’ll afford rent when you move out.”

Nic glares at me again. “You really thought I’d leave you high and dry like that? I’m insulted.”

Nic may be evolving, but she’s still the no-bullshit menace I grew up with.

“Anyway, do you remember Hunter Cleary? She’s Tyler’s friend from college and was the photographer at the wedding. The McIntyres’ granddaughter, the one that spent that summer with them when we were teenagers? She’s looking for a place to live, and obviously it’s up to you, but Nellie and Tyler suggested it. They think it would be a good match.”

I stare at her, slowly closing my mouth after it drops open. Luckily, Nic is too focused on digging into her marshmallow swirl to notice.

My run-in with Hunter at the wedding had been unexpected and uncomfortable. She couldn’t get out of the broom closet fast enough when I’d finally mustered up the courage to talk to her.

Plus, she’d looked so pretty and poised and I probably looked like the elusive troll that lives under the Brooklyn Bridge.

Nic doesn’t know we hooked up that entire summer. No one, except my dad, knows. Poor guy walked in on us having sex and then dragged us to Planned Parenthood to get tested for STIs and have an employee talk to us about safe sex practices. I wasn’t out at the time, and I was so scared he would out me. My family is relatively religious, and though half of us are out as queer now, I was the first one to officially come out that fall.

Dad never told anyone about Hunter and I. He did what he thought was right to make sure I was safe, and that’s it. My parents aren’t perfect by any means, but I’m grateful for how my dad handled that particular situation.

“I have Hunter’s number, and she’s available this weekend to see the place.” Nic’s voice is hopeful, and god. I want her to be happy so much. I want me to be happy, and I know holding her back from living with Josh isn’t going to make me any happier.

I sigh. “Fine.”