"Any thoughts on why she might be down, other than this stuff?"
The blonde head shook gently and Jamie said, "No, not really. She said things are going well. She’s seen her … uhm … I don’t know what to call him," she said. Nodding her head once she made her decision. "I think I’ll call him by his name. She’s spent time with Giacomo, and she’s seen her cousins a couple of times. Stephanie and Trey are due to be released from the drug rehab facility this week, but she didn’t sound very hopeful." She shrugged her shoulders and added, "I guess being around that group could affect your mood."
"It would mine," Ryan said. "But it’s obvious that my mood’s all over the place anyway."
She looked a little sheepish, and Jamie gave her a gentle smile. "We’re both tense, honey. You wouldn’t be human if your mood wasn’t a little volatile."
Ryan gazed at her reflectively for a moment. "Why do you think the press bothers me so much more than it does you?"
"Hmm … I was thinking about that when I talked to my mom," Jamie said. "I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just used to feeling like I’m under a microscope, but whatever the reason, it really doesn’t bother me much, to be honest." She looked at her partner and added, "I’m sure I’d feel differently if I had to play golf with them hovering over me. I think those incidents in North Carolina really spooked you."
"Maybe," Ryan said. "I think you’re just tougher than I am."
Jamie laughed, knowing that she was teasing, but she acknowledged the grain of truth in her partner’s statement. "There are things I handle better, and things you handle better. I think it’s nice that we balance each other out a little bit."
"We do that," Ryan said. "I’d be much more freaked out about this if you weren’t calm. You’re really helping me to keep a lid on it. Thanks for that."
Jamie got up and stood next to Ryan. Absently playing with the fastener for the strap of Ryan’s overalls, she said, "I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep a lid on it, honey. I spoke with Anna this afternoon, and she gave me a referral for a doctor down here. I uhm … made you an appointment for this afternoon."
"Me? I thought you wanted to see someone to do some crisis counseling. I assumed we’d talk to someone together."
"I don’t think that’s a good idea," Jamie said. "Our experiences were very different, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to commingle them." Looking at Ryan carefully she said, "You’ve been talking and crying in your sleep at night. It breaks my heart to hear you moaning and whimpering, honey. You have to talk to someone to get those feelings out. I know that we each experienced our own version of hell that night – and I don’t think it’s good to visit each other’s."
"You do it, too," Ryan said quietly. "Last night you started to moan and then you sat straight up and screamed Caitlin’s name." She shivered and said, "I couldn’t get back to sleep after that."
"We’re going to drive each other mad," Jamie said. "We both need help, Ryan, and the sooner we get it, the sooner we’ll get back to normal."
"I don’t want to talk about it," the dark woman said quietly. "It’s like re-living it, Jamie, and I don’t ever want to do that."
Jamie held her close and whispered into her ear. "You’re a very, very brave woman, Ryan, and I know you can do this." She pulled away and kissed her partner’s pink cheeks. "This is the only way, honey. You either talk about it now, or let it torture you at night."
"Okay," she sighed. "Are you sure this is the only way?"
"Yes, baby. You need a professional." She kissed the top of her head and said, "I’m going to go into Carmel when you do. I want to do a little more shopping."
"You don’t have to drive me," Ryan said.
"Uhm … I’m going to take one of Daddy’s cars, honey. You go ahead and take the BMW."
"But why …? Does that mean you might not be home when I get back?"
"Uhm … maybe," she said. "I need to get out for a little bit. No big deal. I want to shop, maybe stop for a cup of cocoa. I need to feel like I can go about my business."
"But, why won’t you be home when I am?" the dark woman asked, her eyes wide. "How long will that take you?"
Jamie wrapped her arms around her and said, "I need to be outside for a while, honey. I promise that I’ll be fine – and that you’ll be fine. I’ll bring something home for dinner, and I swear I’ll be home by six, okay?"
"Okay," Ryan said, her voice sounding as frightened as a small child after a nightmare.
At 2 o’clock, the tall, dark, recalcitrant woman was shown into the therapist’s offices. "Hi," Ryan said, extending her hand. "I’m Ryan O’Flaherty."
"Amanda Johns," the motherly, slightly rotund woman said. She led Ryan into the spacious, tastefully decorated office and then stood just inside the door. "I usually sit in the brown recliner," she said. "Take your pick of any of the other seats."
Ryan chose the chair that was the greatest distance from the woman, and sat, stretching her long legs out in front of her. The doctor took her seat as well, and gazed at Ryan for a moment. "I think I know why you’re here, Ryan," she said, "but I’d like to hear what specifically brings you to me."
"My girlfriend and a gun to my head," she said, trying to smile, but failing rather dramatically. She scowled a bit and asked, "What would you like me to call you?"
"Whatever you like. I’m a medical doctor, so you can call me Doctor Johns, or even Amanda if that pleases you."
Ryan nodded, then said, "I’ll decide later." She shifted in her seat, and briefly wished she’d chosen the more comfortable looking sofa. "Uhm … what did you ask?"
"I asked you to tell me why you decided to come see me. That is, assuming that your original answer was a joke," she said, her eyes twinkling.
"It was … but only partially," Ryan said. "I don’t want to be here, and I’m only doing it because my lover thinks I should. I don’t want to upset her any more than she already is, so I came."
"You’re from San Francisco, right?" the doctor asked.
"Uh-huh. We’re seniors at Cal. I’m on the basketball team, and Jamie’s on the golf team – we can’t afford to be gone for too long."
"Hmm … so, you’re just here for a short while?"
"I assume so. I have every intention of being at school in two weeks when the next term starts."
"Well then, we’d better get busy, hadn’t we?" Amanda leaned back, and the footstool rose. "You don’t mind if I get comfortable, do you?"
"No."
"Are you comfortable, Ryan?"
"No."
"Do you want to change seats?"
"I guess." She got up and tried the sofa, maneuvering around until she looked a bit more relaxed. "This is better. That other chair’s too low for me."
"You’re a little taller than my average client," the doctor said, giving her another small smile.
"I do tend to skew a curve," she said.
Amanda gazed at her for another moment, then said, "There could be many reasons for you to be here, Ryan, but I assume you’re having some trouble because of the carjacking. Is that right?"
"Yeah. The carjacking, killing a guy, being hunted like prey … those little things," she said with more sarcasm than was polite.
"Like most people, I’m aware of what happened to you and your partner," the doctor said, "but I didn’t see it on television. So, while I know the broad overview, I’m very weak on the details. Would you mind telling me what happened?"
She sighed and sank further down in her seat. Looking bored, she said, "We were carjacked by two brothers. My little cousin was in the backseat of our car, and when they took over, they threw both Jamie and me out. Jamie climbed back into the backseat, and I jumped onto the roof right as they took off. We drove around for a while, then I got a gun away from one of them and eventually I leaned over and shot the driver. The bullet wounded both of them, and shortly after that we drove into the bay. We all made it out of the car, and later, the one with the more minor wound got an infection and di
ed." She shrugged her shoulders and said, "That’s it."
The doctor nodded, and said, "I knew that much from the papers, Ryan." She leaned forward and the footrest snapped shut. She rested her forearms on her knees, now bringing her fairly close to her client. "My guess is that you’re having trouble sleeping; you’re irritable and anxious; probably a little paranoid; most likely forgetful; and …" She narrowed her eyes as she thought, "Also probably worried about your own health and/or your partner’s." She sat up taller and said, "And, if you’re like most people, you probably feel some level of guilt about something that you did, or didn’t do during the ordeal." Leaning back against her chair again, she asked, "How did I do?"
The surprised look on Ryan’s face gave testimony to her accuracy. "How do you know that?"
"I work with a lot of people who’ve been traumatized, Ryan. Those are very, very common reactions. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t have some of them."
"I must be one major human," the tall woman grumbled, "’cause I have all of ‘em."
"Then we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?" Amanda asked, giving Ryan another smile. "Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but when you’re awake at 3 a.m. I bet you don’t think of the ordeal in the cool, dispassionate tone that you used when you recounted it to me."
"No, I don’t," Ryan said.
"Okay. Then let’s do it again, but this time, I’d really like for you to start at the beginning and tell me not only what happened, but how you felt as the events unfolded."
The tall woman sat upright, her body stiff. "I don’t wanna do that."
"Tell me why," the doctor asked softly.
Ryan got to her feet and went to the window, the muscles in her back so tight that they were visible through her knit shirt. "I lived it once. Once was too many times."
"You have panic attacks, don’t you, Ryan?"
"I just had one … bad one," she said.
"Are you afraid of having another?"
The dark head nodded briefly.
"Are you afraid of having one in front of me?"
Again, Ryan nodded, not saying a word.
"That’s understandable," the doctor said. "I’ve been with a lot of people who have them, Ryan, and they’re nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just the way your body reacts to extreme levels of stress. It’s really very common."
"They scare me," she said quietly.
"Of course they do," Amanda said. "Why don’t you sit down and tell me how you’ve been dealing with the stress so far?"
Ryan did so, sticking her feet out in front of herself, looking like a sullen teenager. "I went berserk and nearly trashed the women’s locker room at the new gym at Cal; I took some sleeping pills and drank everything I could get my hands on in my mini bar when we were on a road trip; and of course, I had a panic attack on national television. They’re unconventional strategies, but they’ve been effective."
The doctor nodded. "I rather doubt that. With a little work, we can get you past your fears, Ryan, but you’ve got to be willing to work hard. I know you don’t want to talk about how you feel, but that’s the only way to reduce the hold these fears have over you. I promise you that it’s the only way."
"I don’t want to," she repeated, sounding more intractable by the minute.
"How about this?" Amanda said. "Would it help you to write down your thoughts, rather than speak them?"
The young woman shrugged her shoulders, still looking sullen and withdrawn.
"Are you willing to try?"
"I guess."
Amanda looked at her watch and said, "Our time is up, Ryan, but I don’t want you to leave yet. It’s really important that you get a little of this out today, and I’d like you to be here in the office when you do. I have another small room, where my secretary sits. She’s not here today, so you can use her computer. I’d like you to take the next hour and try to express some of your feelings about what happened when you were carjacked. Take your time, do it slowly, and if you start to feel tense, just take a break. Walk around, take some deep breaths; just don’t let yourself be overwhelmed. I’ll come and get you in an hour. If you want to, we can talk some more. But if not, you can go home. Okay?"
"All right." Ryan got up and followed the doctor into a small, but cheery office. She looked the computer over and said, "I’m a Mac person, but I know how to use Word. This will be fine."
Patting her on the back, Amanda said, "I’ll be back in an hour. Remember, don’t try to go outside of your comfort zone. It’s important to get this out, but you don’t have to do it all in a day."
"Right. See you then." She sat down and adjusted the office chair, then got to work, her fingers flying over the keys by the time Amanda closed the door.
When the doctor opened the door an hour later, Ryan was bent at the waist, head lying atop the desk on her crossed arms. She lifted her head when she heard Amanda, and the doctor nearly gasped at the sight. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her long bangs clung to her sweat dampened face. Her skin was pale and clammy looking, and she shook noticeably when she tried to sit up.
Going to her, Amanda placed a hand on her shoulder and stroked her gently. "Got carried away, huh?"
"You said it was important to get it out," she said. "I don’t like to give in to my fears."
"Do you want to stay and talk about this, or have you had enough?" the doctor asked.
"Uhm … I really get to choose?"
"Of course you do, Ryan. I want to help you. If you really don’t want to be here, you’re wasting your money."
She looked up at her, her expression childlike, and hopeful. "Don’t you want to see what I wrote?"
"Sure. Why don’t you print it out," the doctor said. "Then delete it so no one else can read it."
Ryan did so, then handed her the impressive stack of paper. "Do you want to read it, or should I read it to you?"
"That depends on what you want. I’m happy to read it myself; either with you here or not. I’d also be happy to have you read it to me."
Extending the papers, Ryan said, "I’ve never been so tired. Would you mind just reading it?"
"No, not at all." The doctor took the papers and said, "Will you come back?"
"Yeah. I have to," she said glumly.
"You certainly seem like the type of woman who doesn’t mind working hard – once she puts her mind to it," Amanda said. "I can see you at 10 and at 2 tomorrow."
"Twice?" Ryan asked, eyes wide.
"At first, I think we should," Amanda said. "Just until you’re not feeling so panicky."
"Will this last long?" Ryan asked tentatively.
"It doesn’t have to," Amanda said. "We’ll get through this. We’ll work together, and get through this." Looking at her for a moment, she said, "As you know, I can prescribe medication to help you cope, Ryan. Some of the selective seratonin re-uptake inhibitors have shown good results in people prone to panic attacks. Would you like to consider that avenue?"
"No," Ryan said, her eyes wide. "I don’t want to depend on drugs to get me through this."
"Medication can be a tool that helps you get over the rough spots, Ryan. But it won’t do the work for you."
"I’d really rather not," she said, shaking her dark head. "I feel broken enough as it is. Having to take drugs would make me feel worse."
"Okay," Amanda said. "But if you change your mind, I’m confident there is a drug that can help with the panic attacks."
"I’ll keep that in mind," Ryan said, giving the doctor a look that indicated a complete lack of receptivity.
When she got home, the street was still free of reporters, and she heaved a sigh of relief, unable to bear the thought of being harassed further. Sticking her head in the house, she called out for her partner, then her stomach flipped when she realized that Jamie wasn’t home.
A little before six, Jamie pulled into the garage, and looked up in surprise when she turned off the car and heard music blaring. Getting out, she realized that the sound was c
oming from the second floor gym. She climbed the stairs and found Ryan vigorously pumping iron, her chest muscles gleaming with sweat as she did a set of dumbbell curls. "Honey, I’m home," she shouted over the pounding beat.
Ryan looked up and gave her a relieved smile. Trotting over to the stereo, she turned the volume down. Jamie looked up and noticed that the television was on, too, her partner obviously trying to fill the room with noise. "Hi. I uhm … needed to work off some energy."
"Are you all right, baby?"
"Yeah. I’ll come down when I’m finished, okay? I need to do a few more things."
"All right, sweetheart. I’ll start dinner."
As soon as Jamie left the room, the volume rose again. Ryan was gone for another half hour, and when she entered the house, she was a sweaty mess. "I’ll go shower and come back and help, okay?"
"Sure, love. I’m just about finished."
Even though Jamie had enjoyed going out, she was a little shaky, as well. After dinner they sat together in front of a warm fire in the kitchen, sipping on a nice bottle of deep red cabernet. Ryan had given off clear signals that she wasn’t in the mood for any physical contact, so they maintained a respectful distance from each other. "Are you sure therapy is going to help?" Ryan asked, her voice thin and filled with worry.
"Yes, yes," Jamie said. "I know it’s painful, but we have to suck it up and do it."
"I was afraid you were going to say that," Ryan said, still unable to stop the lurid video that was rolling in her mind – locked on replay.
A terrified scream woke Jamie not twenty minutes after she had fallen asleep. Her stomach in knots, the groggy blonde enveloped Ryan in a warm embrace and tried to soothe her through her nightmare, forsaking her own sleep, which she desperately needed.
A little over an hour later, Jamie returned the favor, waking Ryan with her inarticulate mumbling which slowly turned into groaning and rapid breathing. Ryan tried to calm her, and slowly succeeded. But her own rest was ruined, and she eventually got up and sat on the window seat, watching and listening to the waves crashing against the shore – feeling that the roiling of her own soul could rival the tumultuous surf.
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