I sat on a bench by the river, reading the doctor’s messages. I was frozen solid hearing his stories of abuse from his childhood. I was conflicted, but continued to engage in the conversation.
A part of me was completely freaked out that he would confess all of this to me so soon. But then I felt selfish for thinking that way. This man was subjected to unspeakable abuse as a defenseless child. I felt like a jerk for feeling spooked by his admissions.
Still we had only known each other for a week. This was all a little too soon. Maybe he was encouraging me to open up to him as well. And he did seem so lonely. Was my role in his life truly meant to be more than just an arrangement?
My mind was racing. I wanted to stay and help him and I wanted to run from him. I decided to keep reading…