COVERT : Spencer Reid (II)

06

"Is there a reason you are hiding our meetings from Spencer?"

I made a mistake, a potentially fatal one. My hands are folded in my lap, mostly to avoid digging my nails into the pleather armchair and ripping it open. This is already a fortune without making it more expensive.

Across from me, Mary's expression is hard to read. I dislike therapists as much as I dislike profilers. Stéphane's been seeing one, and his gave him Mary's name as someone more local, that I could potentially see. I could not be more disinterested in taking a longer lunch break every few weeks so I can blankly stare at Mary.

Estelle says it's working. I hate to admit that she might be right.

"It wasn't the right time to tell him," I try to explain. It's a lie in my mouth too.

Surely, Mary knows, but she doesn't let on. Mary is so effective because she always asks me questions. On television, therapists always seem to tell you exactly what your problem is, and they often tell you how to fix it too. I've tried fixing things. Actually, I've thought extensively about every potential path and followed some of them. Avoid my family, and spend time with my family. Flee the country, change careers and names. Staying put was my newest aim in a list longer than the pages stamped in my passport. Now, I guess I'm talking about it. Forcefully, because she's asking me questions.

"When would be the ideal time to tell him?"

I scoff, "we're just... we're still getting to know each other. I haven't even spent the night at his place."

"So, the ideal time is after you've spent the night at his place?" her brow has a single wrinkle from a furrow. A gesture that cannot be authentic. I try not to roll my eyes. "Colette, I'm trying to understand. Let me repeat to you what you've told me. You had him over to help him take care of your brother, and you admitted to him you are worried about Bastien. He stayed over that evening. You go on dates. He's met your family and you've met his. You know he wants children, his career aspirations, and what he likes to eat for lunch. I'm curious what more information you have to know about him now."

That's the other thing Mary does. She repeats what I've said. Maybe Spencer would like her, since she has an uncanny ability to repeat things I briefly mentioned three sessions ago, throwing them out in front of me after I'd forgotten I'd told her them.

It's been five months with her, ten meetings, and only once we crossed the sixth did, I tell her more than that I was a victim of a crime in Québec. At least she doesn't ask questions about that particular thing.

"There is no ideal time," I realize, looking up at her. "I just... I can't do it. Things are actually going well right now. When we talked on the phone last he said... well he mentioned the fake story I gave him about Karine. How can I admit I lied?"

She looks at me. In the next room, she has her office fridge. In session four, she taught me the ice-cooling trick. That's Mary's third shtick. Homework. Balling up socks and whipping them at a note written with all the things that make me angry. Staring at photos of my siblings and I when we were children and counting every similarity between us.

I really could use a cold ice cube now.

"Honesty matters to you a lot, doesn't it?"

No. It doesn't. My hands feel hot in my lap. I shift in the chair. The heater is clicking in the room.

No. I'm always lying. To my brothers and sister and to Estelle. Spencer doesn't know half of the things there are to know about me, and I lie to our coworkers all the time about our relationship.