The Weight of Blood

by D. B. Carew

  “I’ll call Marvin’s lawyer to sort this out.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I just wanted to make sure the young man had legal representation, and you’ve confirmed that for me.”

  The man reached out his hand once again to Chris, and again Chris declined.

  “I understand how unpleasant this all must be for you, Mr. Ryder. I wish I could say that Mr. Owens’ trial, if and when it occurs, will be a more pleasant experience, but sadly, I can’t. As with any murder trial, the stakes are high, and I’ll be aggressively defending my client to the fullest extent.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “But there’s no reason we can’t be civil with each other throughout the proceedings.”

  “I can think of a reason.”

  Bernum chuckled. “Ray Owens. Well, yes, indeed. Be that as it may, I wish you well.” And with that, he smiled slyly and walked out of the building.

  Chris was finding it hard to contain his anger. He’d clenched his teeth so hard and for so long during his interaction with Bernum that his jaw ached. He marched back to his office and immediately called Sergeant Ryan. The instant Brandon picked up, Chris started to vent. “You’re not going to believe who I just ran into. Phillip Bernum!”

  “Where?”

  Chris filled Brandon in on his conversation with Bernum. “I knew there was something about Marvin’s case that wasn’t right, and Bernum just proved it.”

  “Whoa, Chris, slow down. Couldn’t he have been telling the truth about seeing Marvin? He is a criminal defence lawyer, after all.”

  “Come on, Brandon. Do you really think Bernum’s the kind of guy who reaches out to do favours? No, he’s Ray’s lawyer, and now he’s asking about Marvin. He’s looking for something.”

  “What he’s looking for is publicity. He’s an ambulance chaser, Chris. He’s probably attracted to the Goodwin case because of its notoriety.”

  Deflated, Chris was silent for a long moment. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “How are you doing, Chris?”

  “Surviving.”

  “Ray attending the funeral was a pretty low blow. I know how much you hate him, and now to have Bernum fighting in his corner, that’s pretty tough.”

  “Yeah.” Chris wasn’t interested in talking further about it. “I should let you go.” They ended their call.

  As Chris was getting ready to leave for the day, David appeared in his doorway. “I came by a few times, to catch up with you, Chris. Busy day?”

  “Yeah, it was.” He figured David was looking for the paperwork for the time he’d taken as compassionate leave. “I’ve got the form here. I just need to sign it.”

  “I didn’t come to pick up the form. I wanted to check in and see how you are doing. There’s no reason to rush your return. Come back when you’re ready.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Are you ready to be back?” David asked bluntly.

  “Uh ... yeah,” Chris responded, although truthfully, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Because it won’t do anyone any good if you’re not.”

  Chris nodded but said nothing. He was just so tired of all of it. People’s questions about him and his father and Ray and the funeral service. All of it.

  David continued to look at him, waiting for him to say something, but Chris had no desire to talk further. He respected his manager and knew that he was doing his job diligently in asking his questions. But Chris simply didn’t feel ready to discuss how he was doing right now.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” David finally said, and left the office.

  Five o’clock finally rolled around, and Chris sighed with relief as he closed his office door and left the building. Pulling out of the IFP parking lot, he thought about tonight’s session with Nathaniel. He had a couple hours before their rescheduled meeting and considered his options for spending that time.

  What he really wanted to do was spend it with Stephanie. Instead, he chose to drive through the two Vancouver neighbourhoods with the addresses Marvin had given him, on the off chance that someone might be home when he showed up. He was tired and hungry, and his mood was becoming increasingly foul. But more than anything, he was determined to understand the connection between Marvin and these addresses.

  This evening’s excursion went no better than the last one. There was no answer at the door of the first house, and the expanding collection of newspapers and flyers reinforced his suspicion that it was unoccupied. And while there was no indication that the second house had been abandoned, there was no response there when he knocked at the front door. This time, however, he did notice the surveillance camera looking down at him. He glared back at the camera for a long minute, as if daring the owner to make the next move, before he finally looked away. A part of him realized what he was doing was irresponsible, dangerous even, and a clear departure from how he normally behaved. But there was another part of Chris that was starting to surface with increasing frequency, a part of Chris that didn’t care.

  He walked back to his truck and drove off to his counsellor’s office. All the while, he debated whether to share this latest escapade with Nathaniel, because he had enough to worry about and didn’t want his poor judgement at work piling on the ever-growing list.

  His smartphone beeped. Stephanie had texted “Thinking of you” with a love-heart emoji.

  “Love you,” he texted back.

  TWENT Y-EIGHT

  Chris had told Nathaniel about his father’s death when he called to reschedule their appointment, but a lot had happened since then and, as he told Nathaniel now, he wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Why don’t we start with your father’s funeral? How was that for you?”

  Despite his attempt to contain his emotions, a tear rolled down Chris’ face. He made a feeble attempt to wipe it away; Nathaniel encouraged him to cry and to take as long as he needed. Chris took several deep breaths until he felt ready to talk. “Everyone’s asked me the same question about my father: ‘How are you doing?’ How am I supposed to be doing? I didn’t know him well and what I did know I hated. I feel guilty saying that, but it’s how I feel. Or, at least, how I used to feel.” He took another breath to collect himself. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me this way.”

  “Your reaction has surprised you?”

  “Yeah.” Chris didn’t look at Nathaniel.

  “Your reaction seems entirely appropriate to me, Chris. Are you familiar with the Stress Scale?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’ve experienced several stressors over the last few months: marital separation, personal injury, and now death of a family member. Each one of these can be life-changing events. So, it’s not at all surprising that you’d be feeling the way you are right now.”

  “And Ray was at the funeral.”

  “I read that in the paper.”

  “Everyone and their grandma did.”

  “So how was it for you, seeing Ray?”

  “Predictable. My heart started pounding. I went straight into panic-attack mode. Stephanie helped me get through it; I couldn’t have done it without her. Would you believe Ray had the gall to threaten my daughter? At a funeral. A funeral he had no business being at in the first place!”

  “So you were angry.”

  “Damn right, I was angry.” Chris looked at Nathaniel now. “And scared.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “I’d do anything to protect Ann Marie. It’d kill me if anything happened to her. Or Stephanie or Deanna, for that matter. But I worry whether I can protect them from him. It keeps me up at night.”

  He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, you asked me to keep a dream diary. I’ve had some doozies.” He opened his diary. “Do you really want to hear them?” he asked, glancing at Nathaniel.

  “Absolutely.”

  “All right ... So, I’m in a truck. I’m a passenger. I don’t know who’s driving. I guess that’s not important. But it’s racing down this street,
basically a steep hill that I used to live on when I was a kid. I’m in the back seat, and there’s someone in the seat next to me but I can’t see who it is. I close my eyes and brace myself because I know there’s going to be an enormous crash when we hit the brick church at the bottom of the hill. And I’m waiting and waiting. But it doesn’t crash. At least, I don’t remember it in the dream. The next thing I do remember, I’m outside looking in at the truck, and it’s hard to make out what it is, or was. Now it’s a mangled wreck of metal and I’m staring at it, spitting dirt out of my mouth. Paramedics are trying to get to the driver. I remember thinking to myself, there’s no way anyone could survive that crash, so how did I?”

  Chris stopped for a moment and looked skeptically at Nathaniel. “Is this the kind of thing you want me to talk about?”

  “If it’s your dream, then yes. Please go on.”

  “Okay. The next thing I remember, I’m walking down this street, still spitting dirt out of my mouth, when I come to an intersection. I remember wondering, which way do I cross? I don’t know where I’m supposed to go, so I’m just standing there at this intersection and I’m starting to panic because I don’t know what to do next. I’m lost. Someone appears out of nowhere and points a finger at a building behind me. I turn my head and look up at the sign on the building. It says funeral home. That’s when I realize that I didn’t survive the crash after all. I’m dead! It suddenly made sense: the dirt in my mouth, all of it. I’d been buried under the ground.”

  He laughed nervously. “Talk about lost souls, eh?” Then he exhaled deeply. “That one freaked me out. I woke up with my heart beating like crazy. Messed up, huh?”

  Nathaniel leaned back in his chair. “You’ve had time to reflect on the dream. What do you make of it?”

  “I figured you’d ask that. The obvious answer is that’s it’s about death, I guess, my father’s death and how it’s affected me.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe that’s all there is to it. But then I think back to the wreckage and I remember the truck was black. And that gets me thinking about that black Expedition that’s been following me.”

  “Do you still think it’s following you?”

  Chris gave him a bewildered look. “You ask like you think I’m seeing things that aren’t there. I’m telling you, I’ve seen a black Expedition a handful of times now. That’s reality.” He could feel himself getting worked up. He drew a deep breath and waited a moment. “Whether it’s coincidence that I keep seeing it, I don’t know.”

  “You said you had another dream?”

  “Yeah, this one’s just as weird. It happens at work. I’m in an interview room with Marilyn—she’s the psychiatrist friend at IFP that I’ve told you about. And there’s a nurse and a patient in the room, too. It’s a typical meeting. We’re talking about how the patient is doing. The creepy thing is that when the meeting’s over, everyone else gets up to walk off the unit, but I’m being held back. And I suddenly realize, they think I’m the patient. I’m trying to convince everyone that I’m staff, but no one’s listening.”

  He took another deep breath. “Look, Nathaniel, I don’t know if this is a waste of time, but you asked me to write my dreams down.”

  “No, it’s certainly not a waste of time. I find it very interesting. What meaning do you attribute to this dream?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about everything that’s happened and my reaction to it. I ... I feel like my mind’s been working against me.”

  “How so?”

  “Not being able to get Ray out of my head, for starters. My nightmares. My emotions, I can’t seem to control them. There are times when I feel like I have no control over my feelings, and I hate that feeling. It makes me feel powerless, helpless.” He stopped and looked over at Nathaniel, embarrassed. “I work in mental health, so believe me, none of this dream is lost on me. What I’m trying to say is that it gets me thinking about someone who’s having a breakdown. At what point do they realize they’re having one? Most times they don’t, you know what I mean? Insight is one of the first things that goes out the window.

  “So then I think back to what I’m going through, and there are moments when I realize I have to look after myself. Heck, that’s why I’m seeing you, to keep from having a breakdown. But then there are moments when I think everything’s pretty much okay, back to normal even, and I wonder what I was so worried about.”

  He looked away. “I guess the reason that dream disturbs me is that it makes me question my own sanity. Would I know if I was having a breakdown?”

  “Well, you’re right about one thing: they are very interesting dreams, and I appreciate the fact that you’ve shared them with me. Do you want me to tell you what I think?”

  “Fire away,” Chris said, although he was a little afraid to know.

  “It seems to me that no matter where you start in your conversation, it ultimately reverts back to Ray. Have you ever considered the possibility that your biggest enemy may not be Ray, but yourself?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What I mean is, Ray is sitting in jail, awaiting trial on several serious charges. He can’t harm you in any physical way. He does not pose an imminent, viable threat to you now, yet you’ve built him up in your mind as a formidable enemy. I can understand the threat of psychological harm, but that is something you have a degree of control over. You can determine the degree of influence he has over your life, if you choose.”

  Chris reflected for a moment. “We’re back where we started, aren’t we? Talking about control.”

  “Let me change the focus slightly. Are you still having those nightmares involving Ray and his rifle?”

  “Yeah, and I’ve tried that re-imagining exercise you mentioned.”

  “And?”

  “And ...” Chris hesitated. “There was a point on that trail where I had the rifle. I’ve dreamt recently about that moment where I’m the one with the rifle.”

  “Aimed at Ray?”

  “Yeah. Aimed at Ray.”

  Nathaniel thought for a moment. “So your nightmares have changed from a situation in which you are feeling powerless and have no control to ones where you’re the one in control, you’re the one with the rifle. Is that right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that sounds like progress to me.”

  Chris just sat there, fumbling with his fingers. “You’re not convinced, are you?” Nathaniel asked.

  Chris sighed. “It’s more than that. In the dream,” he started slowly, and then blurted out, “in the dream, I pull the trigger. And that opens up a whole new can of worms for me.”

  “Because?”

  “Because it gets me wondering how different I am from him. He’s my half-brother. So do I have the same messed-up DNA running through me as he does? The same psychopathic tendencies?”

  “What do you think?”

  Chris smiled. “You know, you’re doing what Stephanie likes to do. Answering my questions with other questions. I don’t know what to think, that’s the God-honest truth. I hate Ray with every fibre of my being. I’d like to think that I’m nothing like him, that I’m better than that.” He bowed his head and started massaging his temples. “But I’m not so sure. And until I am, I don’t want to make any big decisions.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you. What decisions are you talking about?”

  Chris told Nathaniel about the conversation he’d had with Stephanie about starting a family. “I love Stephanie, I really do. I just think the timing’s bad. I don’t feel ready to ...” His voice trailed off.

  “What do you think would need to change for the timing to be good for you?”

  “Right now, I really don’t know,” Chris said. “But Ray would have to be out of the picture, I can tell you that much.”

  “Hmm. Ray again. I think we’ve talked enough about Ray for one day. Let’s change the topic. How was your return to
work?”

  “I managed to get through it, despite hearing that I returned too early.” Before Nathaniel had a chance to ask whom he was referring to, Chris said, “Stephanie, Marilyn, my manager. They all think I should have stayed away longer.”

  “I’m interested right now in what you think.”

  “They’re probably right, on the one hand. But on the other, coming to work gives me something constructive to do with my time rather than sitting at home fiddling with my fingers.”

  “Do you feel you have it under —”

  “There’s that word again, control,” Chris interrupted. “I hope so. What do you think?” He cringed the moment he asked the question because he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “From what you’ve described here today, my opinion is that it would be best for you to take a few weeks off to give your body and mind more rest. I’d suggest a leave of absence. But it’s your call.”

  “Yeah, I’m not really sure about taking time off work.”

  “Have you shared what you’re going through with anyone at your work? Manager, co-workers?”

  Chris shook his head, avoiding making eye contact. “My manager and one of my colleagues know I’m seeing a counsellor but that’s about it. I haven’t gone into details.”

  “What you’re experiencing, Chris, is actually more common than you might think.” Nathaniel stopped. He appeared to be waiting for a reaction from Chris and when there was none, he continued. “On top of that, I think it’s important to consider your particular work environment. Your work often involves trauma, whether your patients come to you as victims of past trauma or are admitted after being charged with committing an offence with traumatic repercussions. Either way, it exposes you to vicarious trauma.”

  Nathaniel stopped again, as if inviting Chris to respond. Chris didn’t.

  “My point is that you’re not alone,” Nathaniel continued. “Yet many employees are reluctant to talk to their co-workers or managers because they’re embarrassed. Or they’re concerned that they won’t be understood. Or worse yet, that they’ll be looked down upon for having a problem. What I’m getting at, Chris, is that I think it might be time to talk to your manager about what you’re going through. Would you consider doing that?”