I’m responsible. I chose to put myself in a situation where I’m responsible.
Wanting to look after her, a small, dependent, vulnerable creature, is innate, and I don’t even have to think about it.
It’s like breathing. For some people.
We had increased our counseling sessions to twice a week, which had sounded excessive when Maria first proposed it,
but I was finding, to my surprise, that this was barely enough.
I hoped I wasn’t turning into one of those needy people, though, the kind who are always droning on about themselves and their problems.
Boring. I was slowly getting used to talking about my childhood, having spent the best part of thirty years studiously avoiding the subject.
That said, every time the topic of Marianne came up, I sidestepped it.
Before each session, I told myself that this would be the right time to talk about her, but then, when it came to it, I just couldn’t do it.
Today, Dr. Temple had asked about Marianne again of course and, when I’d shaken my head,
she suggested that it might be helpful to think about my childhood as two discrete periods;
before and after the fire, as a way of getting to the topic of Marianne.
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