Page 82 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye

He shrugged. “But through all the snogging and shagging, I’ve only fallen for two—no, three women.”

“Do you fall easily?”

“Yeah…but Leia was different. My dream girl, by name and nature.”

“Dream girl, huh? Hmm, you really like this Leia.”

“Like? Mate, that’s the understatement of the century. She’s this smart, confident blonde who knows how to have fun. Sexy as hell, too, but she also knows what she wants career-wise and works damn hard to get it. Despite that, she was never all about herself. She was always caring and empathetic, devoted to her sister, and interested in my business—interested in me. I didn’t have to pretend to be the life of the party or offer to buy her things so she’d like me. And I liked who I was with her. I felt good about myself…so good I almost told her about my depression.”

“And what stopped you?”

“What always stops me.” He snatched his coffee. “Being seen as weak, unconfident—it’s emasculating. And besides, everybody wants Fun Tarquin. I don’t want to disappoint.”

“But you just said you didn’t pretend with her?”

“Yeah, but”—Tarquin winced—“I…sorta did.” He took a long sip, delaying his confession. “I wanted a relationship with her, I knew that right away, but Leia didn’t want anything…heavy. I lied so she’d sleep with me. That’s why I didn’t mention my depression—in case she ghosted me and I was left with nothing. She mentioned once she was in therapy herself, but that sort of made me more determined not to say anything. I didn’t want to make it all about me.”

“Have you heard from her since she left?” Dex nudged his blue glasses up his nose and smiled at the sun breaking through the clouds.

“She emailed before her flight. I drafted a response but didn’t send it.”

“How come?”

Tarquin shrugged, squinting at the glinting ripples in the lake. “It wouldn’t change anything. She’d still be heading back to New York. I’d still be the sad fucker with unrequited feelings.”

“Wouldn’t it feel good, though? Opening up, sharing how you really feel? Like you are now.”

“This”—Tarquin waved his hand back and forth between himself and Dex—“is different. I may feel like a wanker, sharing my secrets with a stranger and admitting my inadequacies as a pretend grownup, but the stakes are low, mate—I don’t want you to fall in love with me. Telling Leia…” His shoulders rose as he sucked in a breath and let it go. “It’s a sticky wicket. Any relief I’d initially feel getting it off my chest would be replaced by more embarrassment and rejection, not to mention a wallop of guilt. I’ve already swallowed my fair share, playing fast and loose with the truth. At least by keeping quiet, I can hold on to a smidgen of self-preservation.” He scratched his whiskers. “But don’t get me wrong”—Tarquin lowered his voice as a tour group of seniors admiring the swans loitered by the railing—“I’m not playing the victim here, okay? Because I’m NOT a victim. Leia was honest with me all along. What fucked me up was my own great expectations. They’re to blame for how shitty I feel, not her.”

“Let’s…continue walking.” Dex picked up his water and motioned toward the steps leading up to the path, free of chatty pensioners. “So, why do you think you blame your expectations?”

Tarquin scrunched his brow. “I suppose I’m a hopeless romantic? If I fall for someone, I get ahead of myself…fast-forward, picture our future, living together, our engagement, marriage—all of it. I daydream about how fucking amazing it’ll be, you know, us against the world.” With each plodding step, Tarquin’s thumb pressed harder on the lid of his coffee. “But then reality bites me in the arse. They fall in love with someone else or I do something naff…or like Leia, they don’t even want a relationship, and my biggest fear slaps me back to reality again.”

“And what’s your biggest fear?”

“Oh, that’s an easy one—that I’ll end up alone.” Tarquin looked up with a frown, rejoining the path as two joggers wheezed past. “I don’t think I’m very lovable.”

“Okay, Tarquin, here’s the thing,” said Dex. “That’s your depression talking, stomping on your self-esteem and tearing you down with self-doubt and worthlessness. But I’m here to tell you that these negative statements, these stories we tell ourselves—they are completely wrong.” He waved lazily at a patch of weather-beaten dandelions hugging the path. “And to top it off, the stories are like those weeds. Left unchecked, they sprout up everywhere. But with cognitive behavioral therapy—what I like to call emotional herbicide”—he chuckled—“you and I can identify them when they arise, stifle their growth, and change how you deal with them.”

For fuck’s sake! I’m NOT going all Sally Sunshine! Tarquin scowled. “So, you’re basically saying I should ignore all negative thoughts. Don’t worry, be happy.”

“No, the opposite! There will be no toxic positivity on my watch, bud! Look, man, it’s perfectly normal to have a mix of negative and positive thoughts and feelings. You’ll always have worries, fears—that’s part of being human, no getting around it—but we need to distinguish between what’s rational and healthy and what’s irrational. I want you to face the irrational head-on, see them for what they really are. If it makes things easier, think of me as your climbing coach, okay? Let’s conquer this cliff together, you and me! I can show you how to rise above this and feel better. You in?”

Tarquin took a quick sip of coffee. “Could be interesting.”

“Tarquin, it will change your life! We’ll practice simple coping strategies you can use whenever negative self-talk or rumination rears its ugly head. In time, you’ll feel better, and hopefully, your depression will lift.” Dex leaned in conspiratorially. “Heck, we might even get you hitched, too. I love a good wedding!”

“Steady on!” Tarquin threw the therapist some dubious side-eye. “Don’t start writing your best man speech yet, doc.”

Months pass…

February 14, I was grateful for:

1. my Costume Institute job! Today, I helped my boss examine Marie Antoinette’s dress!

2. Shantelle’s red carpet fittings going well.

3. making it through Valentine’s Day at home with tacos and Killing Eve. My mind strayed, wondering what Tarquin was up to: a date, a hookup…