Page 80 of Everything But Mine

Eric continues, unaware of the storm brewing inside me. “I think—” His hands dig into his hair, curling into fists around the strands. I resist the urge to smooth his fingers until he lets go. “I think I wanted someone to confirm I wouldn’t be worth it. Confirm I wasn’t enough for her.”

“Eric,” Val interrupts him. He lifts his eyes to her, avoiding mine. “You love Amanda.” His breath catches, like he hadn’t expected Val to reveal that. Something they must have talked about. But I know what Val is doing. This is collusion exposure. Only, she isn’t targeting Eric. I’m the one she’s trying to get to confront things now. “Why would you try to confirm your bias, your self-doubt that you’re not enough for her?”

There’s a dark smirk that crosses his features. “That’s what’s pathetic about the whole thing.” Now, his eyes meet me head-on. “I needed you to placate those fears of mine. I needed you to call or text or anything. You know me. It couldn’t be a shock that I’d drown in insecurity. And when you didn’t—” He swallows.

His eyes don’t leave mine. He’s wrecked. And still—How dare he? How dare he turn it around on me? So, what, I don’t text him for twelve hours? I’m supposed to keep him from fucking someone else? I’m responsible for his dick staying dry?

Val nods, her eyes are on me. And she knows me. She knows I’m fucking fuming and about to lose it. “So, you were mad at Amanda?”

“No,” Eric says. “How could I be? She couldn’t have possibly known I was in crisis.”

Val doesn’t let go, though, and that’s why she’s the best. “You think she should have.”

Eric swallows, then nods.

“You feared she’d abandon you. You went to your father to confirm it, but⁠—”

“I wanted Amanda to check in on me.” He licks his lips. “I held onto this idea that… she’d sense it.”

“And when she didn’t?” Val prods.

He shrugs. “It confirmed that I deserve to be left behind.”

“Okay. That sounds about right.” Val says. And she does her thing where she doesn’t prompt anything else. Just waits to see who will pick up and how.

Eric is all but happy to pick up, slowly but surely unveiling all of himself in front of me. He rubs his eyes with his knuckles. When he opens them up, they’re glassy, and he’s avoiding me again.

“I don’t remember that night. I remember heading to PhD Bar, and then nothing until—” He exhales. “But I know why.” My eyes can’t tear away from his profile. “It was easier to tap out early. Showing I’m a shithead and not worth her time was easier to swallow than her deciding it on her own.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Or so I thought anyway.” He hitches a shoulder. “But I think I still wanted her to fight for me.” He stares at me. “I knew I fucked up. But I still wanted you to fight for me. I needed you to love me through it, even when I made a mess of things.”

Val lets the silence stretch, lips pressed together, eyes glinting in that clinical expression of hers. She’s proud of how Eric’s confronting everything she throws at him. Then she turns to me gently. “Amanda, when you walked into that apartment. When you saw Eric, how did that feel for you?”

My entire body stiffens.

“We’re not here for me,” I say. “This is Eric’s thing.”

Val watches me. “Eric’s here for the relationship. You’re here for the relationship.”

I shake my head. “This isn’t couples therapy, Val. You’re working with him.”

Eric sits up straighter, alarm flickering across his face. “Hey⁠—”

Val’s voice is measured, but she doesn’t let up. “What would it mean for you to talk about what you felt?”

I cross my arms. “I said no. That should be enough.”

“Val,” Eric says, gently, as if reminding her of something they had already discussed. “I won’t go into things that make Amanda uncomfortable. We stop when she says.”

Val lets it settle before she speaks again.

“You both need to hear what just happened,” she states carefully. “Eric needs to know what it felt like for you. He opened up to you. He walked through the painful details of how he believes he failed you. And how, even knowing you didn’t fail him, it still felt like you had.”

She pauses. Eric’s ears flush red, and his shoulders go stiff with tension.

“Amanda, you shut him down. He did something hard, he was vulnerable to you, and in trying to protect yourself, you denied him the reciprocity of vulnerability.”

This is something I do with clients all the time. Interpretive reflection. It’s more than summarizing; it draws meaning. A direct move that is used when dynamics are off balance, tying behavior to the pain beneath it. It’s meant to be a gentle nudge. But when it’s turned on me, it feels surgical, crippling.

She looks at him, then back at me. “Whether you meant to or not, you reinforced his belief that he’s not deserving.”