Justine waited in front of the elevator. She had an 11 AM appointment with Sandra Blackwell, a therapist. She held her arms across her stomach and kept her eyes on the floor. Her light-brown hair was held loosely in a ponytail, and she wore large blue jeans, flip-flops, and a gray hoodie.

She wondered what she was doing here at all.

The clinic nurse had recommended Blackwell. Justine had mentioned that she was having problems in her long-distance relationship with Allen. They were both freshmen at different universities, but more than a thousand miles apart.

She rode up the elevator with a few professional-looking people. She wondered what they would think of her if they knew why she was here. Finally she stepped out on the 8th floor and found Suite 832. “Dr. Sandra Blackwell.”

“Hello! You must be Justine.”

“That’s me.”

“Please come in. I have bottled water, and you can sit anywhere you like.” After formalities, Dr. Blackwell asked Justine if she would call her Sandra.

“Okay.”

“Great. So what brings you in to therapy?”

“I guess I’ve been lonely and anxious. I’m a freshman, of course. And, uh, I don’t really like my roommate. Margaret. We try to stay out of each other’s way. There are some nice people on my floor, but it’s taking a while to make friends, I guess.”

Sandra wore those sensible flats and cold-weather slacks that grad students always seemed to have and a burgundy sweater, and she had a round face and a relaxed chin-length bob, which made her look less intimidating than the nameplate on the door had implied. Sandra smiled, then searched Justine’s face. Justine could feel her own mouth doing that thing where it curled in, as if she’d just detected something sour, and she wished she could stop doing that.

Sandra leaned back. “It’s completely normal for things to feel off during the first semester. It’s a huge transition. Tell me more about how you’re doing.”

Justine’s hands were cold and a little damp. She laced her fingers together, pressing hard. “I never thought I’d miss home, but… I do. I miss my mom and sisters. I even miss my weird cat. Allen and I try to FaceTime every day, but he’s so busy.”

“Allen is your boyfriend?”

Justine glanced up and nodded. Her eyes turned back to the floor. She twisted her mouth to keep it from curling in.

“It sounds like you and Allen are close.”

Justine sighed audibly. “We are. Or at least we were. I think the long-distance part of it is not what I imagined. I always look forward to hearing his voice and seeing his face. But it’s like some kind of faded copy of what we used to have.”

Justine looked up again to see that Sandra was looking at her with a relaxed kindness. It was unexpectedly soothing.

“I don’t like having to talk constantly, like I always have to have something to say. We can’t hug anymore. I can’t smell him or kiss him.”

Sandra nodded. “That makes sense. It’s not uncommon, especially with the physical part of a relationship. Some people learn to adapt or even find new ways to feel close. But it can be really hard.”

“I guess everyone’s college relationship falls apart,” Justine said, and the words came out in a croaky heap. Her own voice embarrassed her, and she tried to laugh it off, but it came out more like a hiccup. “Sorry. I sound ridiculous.”

“Not at all. It’s not ridiculous. The jump to college when you have a special connection with someone back home is often a source of deep sorrow. Maybe your heart and your mind feel pulled in different directions. Is that what it’s like for you, Justine?”

“I guess it is. Allen and I started the summer before last. He’s my first real boyfriend, and we love each other. We’ve been saying 'I love you' for a long time. And I don’t know how it’s supposed to go on. Or how it’s supposed to end. I just hate long distance.”

“Wow, that sounds really powerful. And you and Allen are intimate with each other?”

“Ummm, yeah, I…”

“You are sexually active with each other?”

“Oh, right! Yes, we are. I mean, not while we’re apart, obviously. To be honest, I really miss having sex with him.” Justine looked out the window and back at the floor.

“Sex with someone you love is a wonderful thing.”

“Yes. Thank you for saying that. I sometimes feel like a weirdo for being so into Allen and not wanting to be with anyone else.”

“I see. Do some of your peers or acquaintances say that you should play the field or something?”

Justine nodded, and her ponytail bobbed. “Yes, and it’s not like they’re wrong or whatever. There’s even Allen’s friends, who get on his case about it sometimes. ‘Dude, you’re in college; it’s a waste if you don’t at least hook up once.’ ‘What’s the point of a girlfriend a thousand miles away?’” She wrung her hands together until her fingers hurt. “I mean, sometimes I think that way too. I just don’t… I just can’t.”

Sandra crossed her legs and made a small hmmm sound, like she was tidying up a thought in her own head. “What would happen, do you think, if you decided to just, as you say, hook up with someone else? Hypothetically.”

Justine felt her whole face go hot. She stared at her knuckles, which were going pink and white from being squeezed so tightly. “Well, I don’t know about that. I could never cheat on Allen. But sometimes he’s like…” Justine’s voice trailed off. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I’m so curious what you were going to say.” Sandra’s face was still warm and gentle, and her eyes sparkled with genuine interest.

Justine bit her lip. “Did you ever see that 70s movie, um, American Graffiti?”

Sandra smiled and arched her eyebrows. “Oh sure! It’s been a little while.”

“Well, in the beginning, the Ron Howard character and his girlfriend—you know, Shirley from Laverne and Shirley? He says to her, 'I think we should stay together and be free to see other people in college'.”

“I remember that, yes.”

“Well, sometimes Allen talks like that. And it drives me crazy. I think I would puke if he told me he was screwing some girlie in Massachusetts.”

“Of course, yeah. And how does he feel about the idea of you being with another guy? Does he talk about that at all?”

“I just don’t get him sometimes. Maybe he’s naive or something. He doesn’t … I just wish that he were more jealous about me, I guess.”

The silence stretched and held. Justine realized she’d been gnawing the skin of her thumbnail, a nervous habit since grade school, and forced her hands into her lap.

“So,” Sandra said, “you wish Allen cared more about the possibility of losing you?”

Justine nodded.

“Do you think maybe Allen is afraid to show his true feelings? Or is it possible he just trusts you that much?”

Justine let her head loll back against the chair. “He trusts me. And that’s sweet, but it feels... off? I don’t know. I want him to freak out and say, 'You're mine,' or something. I want him to want me. It’s so stupid.”

Sandra smiled, but Justine saw no judgment. “Is it possible the two of you want different things out of the relationship right now?”

“I guess it is.” Justine noticed a raw, empty feeling in her stomach. “I know I can’t go back to high school, to the way things were. But maybe that’s where my heart has been. I don’t know.”

“That’s so brave and perceptive to say that, Justine. It really does hurt to let go, and turn the page. I think maybe the situation you’re in with Allen is one of the hardest things to move on from, honestly. But we can’t ignore the other part of you, the part that is here in this room. Here at this university. Here in the present possibilities of your life. That part of you is special too, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sort of. I wish I could feel better about it. About the college me.”

“That’s great. And I can hear the struggle in your voice when you name that part of yourself. It’s okay. It’s okay to be ambivalent and sad about how things are or how you are. It’s all a process. But I’m willing to bet that this process is pointing toward a future, your future, that is full of joy and energy and healing and growth. However your relationships go or evolve. The point is that you’re on the way to becoming your full adult self, Justine.”

The words "full adult self, Justine" floated in her head like a dare or a threat. She shifted in her seat and tried on the phrase: “full adult self.” How would it even look? Would she have to wear clothes from the Banana Republic and own a salad spinner? “I don’t even know what that would be like,” she mumbled.

Sandra nodded. Justine wondered if it was some Zen trick, that endless nodding. Maybe therapy school taught you to become a human bobblehead, and the patient just filled in the silence with their own confessions.

Sandra set her notebook aside. “What would your full adult self do, right now, in this life? No limits, no expectations. Justine as she wants to be.”

She considered it. The ceiling was a spackled beige, the kind that always reminded her of the elementary school nurse’s office. “I think I would be less scared all the time,” she said. “I could talk to people more. Maybe get out some and have more fun.”

“You aren’t having much fun right now?”

“Well, no. I think I’m afraid or something. Too much time in my headphones, in my room, on my screen. I got invited to a party this weekend by my friend Aliyah, and inside I was like, ‘fuck no.’”

They shared a mellow laugh. “You don’t like parties?”

“I just … maybe I do sometimes. I think I’m worried about talking to guys, and then I have to feel guilty and bad about it. And I don’t know what Allen might say. I’d just rather avoid all that, I guess.”

Sandra tilted her head, fingers tapping slow triplets on her notebook. “Maybe you’re protecting something important to you.”

Justine glanced at the clock. “How much time do we have left?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Oh. Well, there’s one thing I didn’t mention.” Sandra nodded and smiled, totally unfazed. Like she knew something else was coming.

“So there’s a guy I met in September. Bryce. We randomly ended up dancing once, and there’s just been this thing ever since. I guess I have a crush on him.”

Sandra coolly flicked her eyebrows. “What do you like about him?”

“I don’t really know him that well. We’ve only talked briefly a couple of times. I guess I was nervous.” Justine looked up at Sandra and this time held her stare. “He’s really handsome. Well built. I would have thought he was out of my league.”

“Or maybe you’re in a new league now.” Sandra’s warm smile made Justine blush. All of a sudden she felt a glow of energy.

“There’s this way he looks at me. It’s electric.”

“You feel powerfully attracted to him.”

“Very!” Justine felt suddenly silly. “Maybe too much, I don't know. Too much to feel comfortable.”

After a quiet moment Sandra asked, “Do you want to see him again?”

Justine scuffed her flip-flops under the chair. “I don’t know. It’s not like there’s anything real happening. I’m just…” She hunched deeper inside the hoodie. “Is that gross? Having a crush when I’m with Allen?”

“Not at all,” Sandra said. “It’s not a betrayal to feel something. Sometimes it can help you understand yourself.”

“I don’t think I’m going to act on it. I was sort of thinking about telling Allen, though. Maybe then I’d feel less conflicted or something.”

“You don’t have to make a decision right away,” Sandra said, still in that marvelously even voice. “But sometimes secrets weigh more when you carry them alone.” She folded her hands, her fingers thick and elegant, a plain gold ring on her right ring finger. “What are you hoping would happen if you told Allen?”

“I honestly don’t know.” The idea of saying the words out loud—the idea of admitting this secret attraction—sent something sharp down her arms, prickling the skin of her forearms and wrists. “I think he’d freak out a little. Or maybe not. Maybe he’d act like it was fine, but then he’d go quiet for a few days, and I’d know he was hurt and just … hiding it.”

Sandra chewed the end of her pen, considering. “It might be worth talking about if you think it would help you be less alone in the situation. Sometimes honesty can surprise us in how it opens things up.”

Sandra recapped their session: transition, boundaries, adjustment. Did Justine want to book again for next week? She agreed, surprised at the drooping relief she felt.

********

Justine fell onto her bed and nestled her face beneath a pillow. She was going to do it. Tell Allen. Something about the conversation with Sandra had given her clarity. A way forward. Allen would have to accept where she was, and tell her what he felt. She realized she was tired of the status quo. Something had to give.

She grabbed her phone and texted Allen.

I need to tell you something. When we talk.

She looked at her stuffed horse, Vincent. One hoof in front of the other, she thought. This was her life.

She hit send.

Twenty minutes later she was reading her history assignment when the phone buzzed.

Sure. I can’t really talk until like 10. Is everything okay?

Yeah I’m good. Just something I should have mentioned sooner

You can text it if you want

Justine found the idea of texting her admission to Allen weirdly thrilling.

She got out her journal to scratch a few ideas.

I’ve been noticing this guy named Bryce, who I danced with back in September. Nothing happened or is happening. It’s a flirtation, I guess.

“Not bad,” Justine thought.

You wanted to know, so I’m telling you that I have a crush on someone. His name is Bryce. He’s very handsome. And very black. Nothing happening though, just a feeling.

“'Very black' is ...not right. Too provocative.”

She wanted to write something more elaborate: an email.

Dear Allen, my sweet,

I’ve been silent about something. Here it is.

I have sort of a crush on someone named Bryce. I met him in the first few weeks of school, at a Friday night party I wasn’t otherwise enjoying. He approached me and we flirted. He asked me to dance and we danced. At one point he lifted me up from my hips. I felt so light, and it was exciting, I have to admit.

I knew he wanted to kiss me but I held back. Nothing else happened or is happening. Except that he looks at me when we cross paths now and then, and I still feel attracted to him. We chatted one time. He asked me out, and I told him about you and me. He just smiled and said, “Cool.” I thought it would send him away but he keeps looking at me and saying hello sometimes.

I thought I should tell you. You can tell me how you feel about it, whatever you feel. I wanted to honor you with the truth.

Justine read it over twice. Maybe it was overkill, but she knew Allen. He would want to take this all in at once.

The email didn’t include details about Bryce being handsome, well-built, and black. Maybe it was better to withhold that information, at least for now.

She leaned back in her chair, took a deep breath, and hit send.

It occurred to Justine that the situation had to go somewhere, fast. It wasn’t going to stand still. Allen wasn’t going to just say “Okay, thanks for the update.”

She knew the alternatives. Either Allen would panic and freak out and get appropriately jealous. Or he would get turned on about it. Both alternatives scared her.

But now it was all up to him.

To be continued...