by Jenni Wilder
You’d think I’d be used to speaking with Dr. Raussman at this point in my life, but every time I had an appointment with him my nerves got the better of me. I was always paranoid he would find some deep, dark secrets inside me hidden even from me. I should have known by now that was not how Dr. Raussman operated, but it was just one of those things, like taking your car for an oil change and fearing they’d find a million things wrong with it.
Lincoln managed to leave practice early so he could join me, and despite my fears over what Dr. Raussman might uncover, I was glad my man was here to support me. As always when Lincoln accompanied me to see my therapist, he was required to sit and could only contribute if Dr. Raussman or I directly involved him. This wasn’t supposed to be couples therapy, but he wanted to be here anyway.
We sat on the deep brown leather love seat in the doctor’s office, and I stared blankly at my hands in my lap, zoning out, thinking about what the doctor might say. My hands played with a tissue, weaving it between my fingers and pulling it through before repeating the process. It was a nervous twitch, one I didn’t even realize I was doing until Lincoln reached over and took one of my hands in his, lacing our fingers together. I smiled up at him as Dr. Raussman started the session, and we recapped what had happened in my life since I had seen him last.
“So it’s been over a month since your trip to Washington. How many nightmares have you had since you got back?” Dr. Raussman asked.
I should have known he would zero in on that. I hadn’t told anyone, but since that first nightmare in the hotel room in Washington, I had been having more. It was like that first nightmare opened a floodgate. Most nights I worked on my thesis until the early hours of the morning, and then I’d sleep for a few hours only to wake in a panic, drenched in sweat as the nightmarish flames lingered on my skin. The only good thing about it was, now that it happened more frequently, when I woke it only took me a second to realize I was dreaming.
I sighed when I realized Dr. Raussman had figured out what no one else had. “Um… maybe a dozen?”
Lincoln leaned forward in his seat and glared at me but didn’t say anything. Dr. Raussman’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’ve had twelve nightmares in the past month?”
I bit my lips and twisted the tissue in my hand. “That’s just a guess.”
“How does Lincoln feel about this?”
I looked at him. His face gave nothing away. “He doesn’t know.”
Dr. Raussman cocked his head at me. “I was under the impression the two of you were sleeping together.”
I felt my face redden. “We are, but we don’t spend every night together, and it’s only happened a few times when we’re in the same bed.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lincoln’s fists clench tight. This wasn’t going to end well.
The doctor’s pen scratched on his notepad as he made a note. “So you have more nightmares when you’re sleeping alone?”
“Yes, but I don’t think that’s what triggers it.”
He looked up at me. “What do you think triggers it?”
I shrugged. “Stress. I only get them on nights when I’m worried about my thesis.” Dr. Raussman stayed silent as he made more notes on his notepad so I added, “But I don’t understand why stress over my thesis would cause nightmares about something that happened so long ago.”
The doctor’s eyes followed my hand as I moved it to my scarred hip.
“Let’s talk about your scars. Last time we spoke, you said you still felt insecure over them, despite Lincoln being okay with them.”
I nodded. “It’s getting easier. I still find it hard to believe that he isn’t affected by them but I just have to remind myself that he doesn’t care about them.”
“And you believe him when he tells you he doesn’t mind your scars?”
“It’s difficult. It’s difficult to believe that they don’t affect him.”
Lincoln couldn’t take it anymore. “You think I’m lying?” he asked in a harsh voice.
“Lincoln.” Dr. Raussman scolded him for speaking.
“No,” I said quickly. “No, I don’t think you’re lying. It’s just—it’s like when there’s a new movie out, and everyone is telling you how good it is, and you go see it, and you think it’s awful? You wonder how anyone could like that movie. That’s what it feels like.”
Dr. Raussman smiled at my comparison. “So it’s a matter of taste?”
“I suppose,” I said slowly. “It is getting easier. It’ll just take some time I think.” I felt like we had exhausted this topic. I had decided I wasn’t going to let my scars affect my relationship with Lincoln, and I didn’t feel the need to piss him off by staying on this topic. He told me I was beautiful all the time, and I wasn’t going to argue with him even if I didn’t agree. Really, was it any different than if I said I didn’t like my nose or my boobs? Some men liked big butts. Some men liked big thighs. Lincoln didn’t mind my scarred skin.
“All right,” he said as he scribbled a few more notes. “Let’s talk about why you haven’t told Lincoln about your nightmares.”
I dropped my head back in frustration. “It just seemed pointless to tell him. I wasn’t hiding it from him, but he can’t do anything about it. He would have wanted to fix it, and not being able to would have made him feel…”
I trailed off and Dr. Raussman looked up from his notepad. “Jillian?”
Swallowing hard, I realized I sounded just like Lincoln defending himself when I accused him of hiding the fact that he had hired a bodyguard from me.
“Shit,” I said. “I just realized I’m a huge hypocrite.”
Dr. Raussman raised his eyebrows and waited for me to elaborate.
I looked over at Lincoln and found him watching me with interest. I let out a long sigh. “We got in a fight last week.”
“Oh?” Dr. Raussman prompted me to continue.
“One of the things was because he hired a bodyguard to follow me and didn’t tell me.”
“And you don’t think you need a bodyguard?”
“Doc?” Lincoln asked before I could answer. Dr. Raussman nodded his head giving permission for Lincoln to speak. “The body guard is nonnegotiable. Do not try to talk her out of it or convince her she doesn’t need him.”
The doctor smiled in his avuncular way. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Lincoln. You can relax.” His focus returned to me. “Do you feel you need a bodyguard, Jillian?”
“I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I do, but I just wish he would have told me. And I just realized right now that I have no right to be mad at him if I’m not telling him things either.”
“Is that something you feel you need to work on as a couple? Being honest with each other?”
“Lincoln says we need to be a team.”
Dr. Raussman rested one foot on his knee and tapped his pen against his lips. “Do you disagree?”
God, I hated when he kept drilling like this. “No,” I said slowly as I looked down at my hands. “But I don’t feel like we’re a team. I feel like…”
“Like what, Jillian?” Dr. Raussman prompted me when I trailed off.
“Like… like I’m a little mosquito, and I’m feeding off him.”
“Jesus, Jillian,” Lincoln said and rolled his eyes. “Have I ever made you feel that way?”
But before I could respond Dr. Raussman jumped in. “This isn’t about you, Lincoln.”
Lincoln sat back against the couch, crossed his arms against his chest, and looked away from me.
The doctor cleared his throat. “That being said, it is a valid question, Jillian. Has Lincoln ever made you feel that way?”
“Not directly, no.”
“Indirectly, then?”
I sighed deeply. “I feel very blessed to have Lincoln in my life. He has done nothing but care for me and love me. I’ve never had this before.” I waved my hand between Lincoln and me. “No one has ever come close to making me feel as special as Lincoln does. I a
lready owe him for giving me things I never thought I could have. Then he starts buying me things, and it makes me feel like I need to pay him back even more.”
“Jillian, how—” Lincoln started to speak but Dr. Raussman cut him off again.
“Lincoln.” He held his index finger up to warn him. Lincoln swallowed hard, but relented. “Jillian, why do you feel you need to pay him back for anything? He’s giving these things freely, correct? Without any strings attached?”
I nodded.
“Then why do you assume he wants to be paid back?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he wants to be paid back. I just feel like I should pay him back.”
Dr. Raussman spoke quickly before Lincoln could say anything. “Let’s look at the situation another way. How’s your schoolwork going?”
I furrowed my brows at his change in topic. “It’s good. Stressful, but I present my thesis in a few weeks, and God willing, I’ll graduate the week after that.”
Lincoln smiled at me for the first time since we sat down.
“Okay,” the doctor said. “Lincoln, you went to college, correct? What was your major?”
“Physical Education.”
“Mm-hmm. And how many biology classes did you take?”
“Just the one that was required for my gen eds.”
“How many biology classes have you taken, Jillian?” Dr. Raussman asked me with a small smile.
I shook my head and shrugged. “Countless. I would have no idea how many to guess.”
“Do you feel Lincoln is less worthy of you because he hasn’t taken as many?”
I gasped in horror. “No! Absolutely not. He’s still smart. He understands everything about my thesis.”
“Doesn’t seem like he would though, does it? Big dumb hockey player whose been hit in the head one too many times. Can’t even take any real college classes. His fluff degree is basically worthless.”
“Geez, thanks, Doc,” Lincoln said, but he didn’t sound too upset.
“I see your point. You don’t need to keep insulting him.” I crossed my arms over my chest again.
“What is my point, Jillian?”
“If education was valued as highly as the ability to play a sport, Lincoln would be the inadequate one in this relationship.”
“And yet, you would still love him, right?”
“Of course.”
Lincoln stretched his arm out and grasped one of mine again and held it tight.
“Would you feel he owed you in any way? Or maybe I should ask, do you feel he owes you in any way since brains are valued as highly as athletic ability?”
“No. No, of course not.”
“Why not? This is obviously an area where you excel and he doesn’t. As a scholar myself, I could be judging you for not being with someone at an equal intelligence level.”
“It’s not the same. If I were doing his biology homework for him, then I could understand your comparison.
“May I speak?” Lincoln looked at the doctor and waited for an answer. Dr. Raussman smiled and nodded. “If you got an amazing job that paid well, and I suddenly, God forbid, became unable to play wouldn’t you support me?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I feel like you’re both ganging up on me.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. Raussman replied and held his hands up in a surrendering motion. “I’m not technically a couples therapist, anyway.” His smile was friendly, though. “Let’s go back to your nightmares. Are they always the same?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’m always standing outside Lincoln’s house, and when I realize it’s on fire, I’m suddenly inside and I can’t get away from the flames.”
“And I’m not there to help her,” Lincoln quickly added.
Dr. Raussman raised his eyebrows. “Why did you leave that part out, Jillian?”
I shifted in my seat and gripped Lincoln’s hand tighter. “Because I know hearing that makes him feel like he’s not here for me, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
“But how does it make you feel?”
“In the dream or after I wake up?”
“After you wake up.”
“I feel… bad.” I didn’t know how else to describe it. “I feel like a horrible person for dreaming that my boyfriend abandoned me.”
“When he leaves for away games, do you feel abandoned?”
“No! No, not at all,” I said emphatically. “And I don’t want him to think I do. I don’t know why I’m having these nightmares.”
“You think they’re stress related, though.”
I shrugged. “It’s the only thing I can think of.”
Dr. Raussman stood up and walked to the window behind his desk, looking out. “I’m going to be honest here. I’ve never given much credence to dream interpretation. Freud would tell you the fire could symbolize sexual desire. Jung would say whatever you assign the fire to symbolize is correct. More recent research maintains it doesn’t symbolize anything; dreams are just electronic impulses firing in your brain when you are asleep.” He turned toward us with a serious look. “I think you’re on the right track when you say stress causes them. Your brain is reverting to previous stressful situations for a clue as to how to deal with your current stress level. If you really wanted to delve deep into the meaning, I would say your brain is replacing your father with Lincoln.”
I scrunched my face up in disgust, and Dr. Raussman let out a laugh at my reaction. He waved his hand, dismissing my incorrect conclusion.
“Not like that. Not like that. I don’t mean in an Oedipal way.” He laughed again before clearing his throat. “Your father was a good man, correct?
I nodded as a twinge of sadness went through me, like it always did when I thought about him. “He was a great father.”
“He loved you? Supported you? Cared for you and your family?”
I nodded again. “Yes, of course.”
“Until you lost him in the fire. A fire you also suffered through. Physically and psychologically, it was a time of great stress for your body. You’re currently going through another time of great stress, although I would hope it’s not as bad.” He gave me a small smile. “Lincoln is now the person in your life you associate with love and support. It’s possible in your dreams your brain has replaced your father with Lincoln. I don’t feel you have any hidden abandonment issues or anything. It’s simple transference.”
“My brain connects times of stress with losing someone?”
Dr. Raussman nodded. “Yes, but not just any someone. It didn’t assign one of your siblings or your niece. It chose Lincoln. I think that’s very telling, don’t you?”
I nodded and looked up at Lincoln. “He’s the most important person in my life.”
Lincoln’s eyes locked with mine, and I shivered as I saw so many emotions written on his face. Love. Concern. Pride. And desire. Oh yes, there was definitely desire there.
I inhaled deeply as I relaxed. He was the most important person in my life, and I was relieved to hear I wasn’t subconsciously worried he would leave me. My brain was misinterpreting my stress as a sign that I would lose the person I loved the most. It was almost reassuring in a weird way.
Dr. Raussman cleared his throat. “Honestly, I don’t put too much stock in dream interpretation. I wouldn’t worry too much about the meaning behind yours. It’s seems like it’s just your body’s way of processing events. I am concerned with the frequency of them, though. Especially if they are causing you to lose sleep. I can prescribe you something to help you sleep without dreaming.”
“Aren’t sleeping pills addicting?” Lincoln asked immediately.
Dr. Raussman’s eyes flicked to Lincoln’s. “I appreciate your concern, Lincoln, and I don’t mean any offense, but I wouldn’t prescribe them if I didn’t think they were safe. And it’s Jillian’s decision if she takes them or not.”
I didn’t even care at this point whether he prescribed something or not. I just wanted to run home as fast as possible so I co
uld be alone with Lincoln. I wanted to show him how important he was to me. But Lincoln continued to argue with the doctor.
“She doesn’t need any sleeping pills. She’ll just stay with me. She said it doesn’t happen as often when she sleeps with me.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not a solution, Lincoln. That’s just avoiding the problem. And it does still happen with you. I’m just usually too distracted to be stressed out before bed.”
Lincoln’s face broke out in a wolfish grin. “Stress reliever, huh? Well, it’s a dirty job, but I’m always up for a challenge.”
My face turned bright red. “You have four away games before graduation. I’m not going with you to all of them.”
Lincoln had opened his mouth and was about to reply when Dr. Raussman began speaking.
“Okay. This is not constructive. Jillian, I would like you to take this prescription, and if you don’t use it, that’s fine. But if you do feel like you want it then you have it.”
I nodded as he scribbled on a small white pad of paper and ripped off the top sheet, handing it to me.
“In the meantime, keep journaling. I encourage you to share your entries with Lincoln if he wants to hear them. As I said, I’m not a couple’s therapist, but it seems you both need to work on being upfront about things with each other. Don’t hide something because you feel the other person won’t like it or can’t help with it.” His face turned friendly again. “And good luck with your thesis and graduation.”
“That’s it? We’re done?” Lincoln asked with a surprised tone.
“That’s it for today. Feel free to come back anytime, Jillian. Lincoln.” Dr. Raussman leaned against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were alight with amusement.
“Thank you, Doctor.” I stood and slung my purse over my shoulder. Grabbing Lincoln’s hand, I quickly pulled him out of the office. I heard him thank the doctor and say good-bye as we rapidly made our way through the waiting room to a bank of elevators. Brody was waiting for us downstairs in the lobby, and as the silver metal doors opened to reveal an empty elevator car, I whimpered in relief.
Pulling Lincoln into the car with me, I pushed the button for the first floor before leaning back against the wall of the elevator and grabbing a fistful of the front of Lincoln’s shirt. I pulled him close to me as I arched up to kiss him. His lips came down on mine as the elevator doors closed, and I wrapped myself around him. My arms went around his neck, and I hitched one leg around his hip as his body pushed me hard against the elevator wall. I groaned as we attacked each other, our mouths desperate for more. He pinned me to the wall with his hips as his hands roved over my body.
