I met you online.

We talked for weeks. Texts and DMs, I'm not a phone kind of girl.

But for you I was.

I showed you my face, you showed me yours.

Truly, it was love at first sight. At least on my part.

Probably for you too, I'm quite cute.

We speak of our hopes and dreams. Our future goals and wishes.

It's easier to speak to you, so far away. No real or immediate threat of intimacy.

I'm wary of how open I am with you. I'm not versed in romantic dalliances.

Relationships, I don't know that I keep them well.

How would we be in person, proximate? That weighs on me.

We've done the watch party dates, we're mutual on all our socials.

You know me, but you don't.

I don't know how you did it, but you did.

Maybe you reached my roommate and plotted? Some hidden scheme?

Does she see my smile? How happy I am just to share words with your essence?

I think I've fallen in love.

Because you went and did it. I never thought anyone would.

I came home and there it was. The Valentine's Day gift package to shame all others.

You'd be working so we wouldn't videochat until the next day, you'd relayed in the velveteen card that came with it.

The detail, the specificity. Am I deserving of this attention? This care?

One Ficus elastica, burgundy.

A Snow Queen pothos.

Some pellionia I didn't recognize. Some peperomia I didn't recognize.

Three bags of a quality-looking potting soil and some ceramic pot that was thematically appropriate for the holiday.

Lastly a bar of chocolate.

How is it you know me, already, and from a distance, so well?

I don't think, I know.

I love you.

"Louis Mason, is that you?"

"Yessir."

"I don't know what shenanigans you all are up to over there but you better skedaddle on out this store right this instant!"

Little Louis and his ragtag gang of hooligans were all discombobulated when they realized they'd been found out, so they ran out in a tizzy almost knocking over some of the regular customers entering Jim's Convenience Store. The biggest convenience store on Main Street, Jim supplied the town with anything they could every need. The latest furnishings, county and national newspapers, and locally sourced foods.

"Good morning Jim, how are things? I see the usual crew are up to their regular tricks and whatnot."

"What a way to start the morning Bob. But I suppose you can't fault the youth for their energy."

"What I wouldn't give for my own boost of vitality. Not that I was much allowed to rabblerouse when I was a whippersnapper, but I can live vicariously in my imagination at the very least."

Bob Thornton was young at heart but old in body. At 61 years of age he was among the older members of the little town of Fluexom. An active man, socially and physically, Bob was best known to all as the town's secretary. Every Monday morning he did his rounds, greeting the shopkeepers. Only 46 himself, and much more sedentary, Jim admired Bob's zest for like.

"How's the family? How Mrs. Martha?"

"Well, the missus sent me over for one of those breads. Whatchamacallit, one of those pumpernickel loaves."

"Truly Bob, you have left me flummoxed. Perplexed. Would you believe we ran out of them just this past Saturday? Well you know Luann, down by Martin's? She usually bakes them for me. Has them baked and delivered every Sunday morning. Well, she told me she and her man got into an argument, a big kerfuffle about their expenses. Well, long story short, he was refusing to drive to the town they get their rye from, like he usually does, and now, no pumperknickel."

"I'll do you one better Jim. You know how the ladies get together for tea? Well Mrs. Saxony, who lives next door to Luann and Joshua, overheard the argument. Martha calls Jessica a bit of a flibbertigibbet, but she always knows what's going on in town."

"Mrs. Saxony's name is Jessica?"

"Yes, I'm surprised you didn't know that."

"Well she always introduces herself as Mrs. Saxony. You learn something new everyday."

"Anyway! Apparently Joshua has been known to canoodle with Bridget Evers from time to time. Jessica saw them, told Luann. Luann brought it up to Joshua, and now we're here, no pumpernickel."

"I don't believe it!"

"Yes!" Bob leaned in for the most mischevious of whispers then. "Joshua's been dipping his finger in Bridget Evers' pie."

The old men snickered heartily and as quietly as two gossipy men could.

"The scoundrel!"

"The nincompoop!"

Jim had considered Luann one of the fairer beauties of Fluexom. A younger woman than himself, Luann was one of the few eligible bachelorettes in town. She was hard-working and mindful of her duties. Kind to all in town and much loved by them too, nary a soul could malign her. As their snickering abated, Jim kept his thoughts on the slighted woman. Why Joshua would ruin his courting of such a wonderful woman was beyond him.

"We do have whole wheat and white bread, but I can't believe that man's malarkey. I don't even know what he does really. Do you know Bob?"

"I've passed him, walking through town. He seems to be real handy with tools. Carpentry and whatnot. He's got a mechanical mind he does. Owen's stop sign was all cattywampus the other day after the storm. Joshua took some doohickey that was lying around and fixed it. Used some tenterhooks to fix Mr. Hadley's door. One thingamajig to fix another thingamajig. Real handy. Real handy."

Jim caught the implied innuendo but ignored it, trying not to think of Ms. Luann and Joshua together, in any carnal fashion.

"Yeah, he's smart, but not too smart apparently."

"So it would seem."

"I guess I see why she said their argument was over expenses. Who wants to go around letting everybody know you were bamboozled? Bamboozled by a persnickety twit like Joshua Beale at that. The dingleberry!"

"Well, I don't doubt the argument did get to expenses at some point. Joshua's smart but he's not the best with regular employment. His family, while they were still around, God rest their souls, were very earnest folk. And I suppose he's been scatterbrained with his intentions ever since their untimely departure. A young man-- If you don't mind my saying Jim, you seem a bit out of sorts."

"I'm sorry Bob, I'm a bit flabbergasted by this news. Gobsmacked even. Luann deserves better than Joshua Beale."

"Sure does, but who else is chasing after her? She's got limited options."

"I wonder what she'll do now."

"Luann doesn't have family in town. She might go elsewhere, or wherever her heart roams."

Fluexom without Luann didn't seem like a bright prospect. Jim had always viewed Luann with kind eyes. Seeing her on Sunday mornings was a delight he looked forward to.

"That'd be a shame."

"It sure would Jim. If only she had another reason to stay."

Only the force of Bob Thornton's stare brought Jim from his stupor.

"Why are you looking at me like that Bob?"

"Jim Andrews, are you dumb?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why would you get this angry about Luann and Joshua if you weren't sweet on Luann?"

It took Jim a while to compose himself.

"I'm not the spryest chicken in the coop Bob. I'm not bad looking, but I ain't a looker either."

"But you're a good man, a stable man."

"All I have to offer, all I have to my name is this convenience store."

"And love and affection. You can't just lollygag when it comes to romance Jim."

"What, so I just go up to her and tell her, 'hey, I heard about you and Joshua, how's about giving me a chance?!'"

"Jim, this is all hearsay. It could all be a bunch of codswallop. I don't know, just make friendly conversation the next time you see her. You greet her, you throw in some baking gobbledygook, you make eyes at her... I mean, goodness, don't you know how to flirt?"

"If I knew how to flirt would I still be a bachelor?"

Over the store entryway was a bell to alert all and any inside to an unexpected entry. Luann looked despondent. She had a pleasant face on, but her usual chipper attitude was noticeable diminished.

"Good morning Ms. Luann."

"Good morning, Secretary Thornton."

"My dear, never call me secretary. I am always Bob to you."

"Good sir, I will never refer to you without the respect you deserve."

"A charmer Jim! She is ever a charmer! Well I was just on my way out. Martha sent me for pumpernickel but now that I know there's none I guess I'll have to see if she wants another loaf. I'll be back Jim. Ms. Luann."

"Secretary Thorton."

With a tip of the hat and shared giggles, Bob Thornton left the scene and a blushing Jim was left to conduct some kind of unawaited business with the fair lady.

"What was the brouhaha you and Bob were up about?"

"Ah, so you do call him Bob!"

"Never to his face, he'd be too pleased with himself."

Even with a tinge of sadness Luann's smile was a warm salve on Jim's forlorn heart.

"So how can I help you Luann?"

"Well Jim, I wanted to apprise you firsthand. You might have to find a new baker?"

Damned Bob Thornton and his reliable sources.

"Why? Over some pumpernickel?"

"A funny man you are Jim Andrews. No, I might be relocating soon and I thought I would let you know that you might need to start looking."

"Malarkey! No baker could replace you Luann. The town runs on your breads. What ladies' luncheon is without your scones. And your raspberry shortcakes are irreplaceable. Lemon tarts, black currant pies-- "

Jim could and would've gone on with the baked goods jargon, but in his flustered state he spoke his truth.

"You're irreplaceable Luann."

A shared glance that conveyed many different things drew a smile on Luann's craftily obscured, but obviously troubled face.

"Thank you Jim. And I did say I might be leaving, not definitely would be."

"Well until you give me a definite, I will count on you being here."

With nothing but honesty, sadness, pending heartbreak, and loving admiration, Jim spoke his words and meant them. He hadn't borne the entirety of his heart out in some grand admission of love. Instead he took a big step and stood confident in his emotions, willing to take a chance on taking a chance. Luann might leave, but not before Jim would say all he had to say. In a timely fashion. Hopefully.

“I’m not here to be judged. Neither are you.”

Lies. I knew it and so did he.

But not all judgment is bad. Not all judgment is wrong. Not all judgment is harmful.

“You’re on edge. Why?”

Baring your soul to a stranger is not something you just do. It takes time, and even then it’s done bit by bit. You don’t just meet a stranger and tell them your life story, your problems, without it being awkward. Why would therapy be any different? Awkward for the person baring themselves and awkward for the person who has to process a sudden, unexpected exposure.

It’s like being a flasher and seeing a flasher. The flasher reveals something they normally hide. A planned reveal might be preceded by all kinds of nervousness, but as soon as the deed is done it all goes away. That person walks away a little less burdened.

On the other hand once you spot a flasher you brace yourself, because you don’t know what to expect. What’s underneath? What in their life brought them to this point? Why are they doing this? What are they hoping to get?

Then it happens and suddenly you’ve got a lot to process. That flasher, that person who just shared part of who they are with you waits for your reaction, waits for you to process what just happened. To digest and analyze information that is new to you and routine for them. What emotion will your reaction induce? Joy? Shame? Relief? Turmoil?

That’s what therapy is.

And so we sat in silence, fully aware of that reality.

Judgment would come and exposure would happen. But when would it happen? How would it happen? How long would it take?

“No rush. All in its own time, right?”