by Annie Jocoby
Kinda like in high school.
In our group therapy, I didn't contribute much, choosing to pass when it was my turn to speak. I saw at least one person staring at me like she knew me, which might have been possible. The media attention on my case had died down quite a bit, but I found that, on occasion, people still came up to me to ask me about what was going on with Rochelle. I knew that if the case went to trial, the publicity would gear up again. I hoped that it wouldn't be televised. But, for now, it seemed that my fifteen minutes of fame were over, thankfully.
In my meeting with the psychiatrist, Dr. Knight, things didn't go much better.
“So, Iris, how are you feeling today?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Fine. Meaning?”
“Fine,” I said with a shrug. “Everything's great. My husband's great. This place is beautiful. Those grounds are so manicured, and that reflecting pool – I've never seen anything like it. I'm scheduled for a massage and acupuncture treatment this week, too. What could be bad?”
“Tell me about your husband. How are you really feeling about him?”
“Ryan? Oh, he's the most magnificent guy in the entire world. He's so kind, gentle and funny. He's my best friend. We're best friends,” I said, as I twirled my hair, not looking the psychiatrist in the eye. “So, that's it, can I go now?”
“You're angry with him. Tell me about that.”
“Angry with him? What makes you say that?” I asked, piling my hair on top of my head, and patting my legs, which were bouncing up and down a mile a minute. Then I started biting my nails.
“Your body language. Tell me about your marriage.”
“Our marriage is fine. He's the love of my life.” That last part actually was true.
The doctor tried a different tact. “Why are you in this place?”
“I don't know.”
“You were addicted to drugs. Why did you turn to the drugs?”
“I don't know.” This session was becoming a waste of time. “Listen, doc, everything's fine. I don't really know why I need to talk to you. Everything's fine.”
“Our sessions are two hours long. Now, I need for you to write in your journal tonight about why you turned to drugs and lived in a drug house for two weeks.”
The doctor was becoming more aggressive, and soon would be pinning me down about my feelings about Andrew. It was time to cut the shrink part of the session short. “I know that I am supposed to talk to you for two hours, but maybe we can talk about other things.”
“What would you like to talk about?”
“My honeymoon,” I said, bringing out my iPhone. “Let me show you some pictures.” So, for the remainder of the time with Dr. Knight, I showed her pictures from our honeymoon - Ryan's yacht, Nick's house, Ryan's winery, Lake Como, the locals, the Vatican, and the ruins in Rome. “And here's where we took our scooters over to the Trevi Fountain and made wishes. Here's where we went to the Roman Colosseum ruins, and this is where we visited The Pantheon,” I said, showing the pictures as a slide show. Dr. Knight nodded along, but didn't really say much.
The session was finally over after about an hour and half of my show and tell about our wonderful honeymoon.
I went back to my room, and I was eager to see Polly. To tell the truth, Polly was all that was on my mind all day long. The beautiful horse with the soulful brown eyes. Abused, abandoned Polly, who was my kindred spirit. I longed to see her and begin my first session with her.
So, I called the golf cart driver, Max, to come and get me and take me to the stables. I knew that Jamie wouldn't be able to meet me for our actual therapy session until around 5, so I could have a couple of hours just to commune with beautiful Polly. I went to the cafeteria to pick up several apples and carrots, and carefully put them into a bag as a treat for her.
Max pulled up in front of the facility, a skinny young 20-something with a mop of unruly brown hair, and teeth like an Osmond or a Kennedy. “Hello, Mrs. Gallagher,” Max greeted me.
“Hi, Max. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Not a problem,” he said, as I got into the front seat with him. I tamped down the anxiety that was welling up in my throat about being alone with a strange guy, as we sped along the road that led to the stables. Stop being paranoid, Iris. This guy is harmless. Still, I found myself gripping the iron bars of the golf cart as Max zipped along. I could feel myself shaking.
“Is there anything wrong, Mrs. Gallagher?”
“No, no. I'm fine. Call me Iris.” 'Fine' appeared to be my word of the day.
We finally arrived at the stables, and Max dropped me off. I told him that he wouldn't need to come back for me, as Jamie would be bringing me back.
I got to the stable where my Polly was housed. I couldn't do much with her, yet, as I had not yet learned how to lead her or anything else. I longed to have a brush for her, and get in the stable and groom her. But that was also a lesson that was reserved for later. All I could really do was stroke her nose, and pet her mane, while she whinnied softly in my ear.
“Sweet Polly, girl,” I said, giving her an apple. “You're a beautiful girl.” She neighed, bobbing her head up and down, and stomping her hooves in her stall. She nuzzled my ear. “So, Polly, you were abused and abandoned. Looks like we have a lot in common.”
I continued stroked her mane as I said “I have to bring my husband out here. He'll love you too. He loves me, you know, Polly. He loves me more than anyone ever has.” I put my arm around her nozzle, and stroked her.
“He loves me, Polly. So why do I hate him?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I admitted to Polly what I couldn't admit to anybody else. That I hated my beautiful, sweet husband. “I'm really screwed up, Polly. He has never been anything but kind to me. Good to me. Yet, I feel that my life has just become so fucked up because of my association with him. Rochelle, the media, Andrew, all of that is associated with him. Not that my life was so great before him, but I at least had my sanity. Now, I'm not so sure.”
Polly snorted in my ear. “Polly, you know, girl, I never wanted to face my past. Now, I'm forced to. I'm forced to face it, while dealing with horrible stuff that is happening right now. It's only a matter of time before people find out what happened to me when I was a seventh-grader. I'm surprised that the media never picked up on it. It's stuff that I can't tell anyone, not Dr. Knight, not Ryan, not my parents, not my friends, nobody. Just you, Polly. Just you, 'cause I know that you won't tell anyone.”
I looked into the distance, and saw the figure of Jamie walking towards the stable. I looked at Polly. “Well, for now, Polly, we'll just leave it at that,” I said, waving to the lanky figure that was heading my way.
We went through our first lesson with me and the horse. Jamie taught me first how to lead Polly, demonstrating, then letting me take the reins. I led her around the dirt road that was directly outside of the stable, Polly prancing behind me, whinnying and snorting the whole way. After I led her around for a little while, Jamie told me that it was time to put her back in her stable. Then she gave me a brush, and showed me how to groom her.
“That's our lesson for the day,” Jamie said. “Tomorrow, you'll get to bridle her, and maybe ride her if you're up for it.”
I nodded my head, looking forward to the next lesson already. Then the two of us headed back to the main facility.
I decided to call Ryan and see if he would come and visit me.
“Of course, beautiful, I can't wait to see you,” Ryan said, eagerness in his voice.
He was over in record time. I imagined that he flew over here, like George Jetson. “I got lucky and didn't hit any red lights,” he said, as he met me at the receptionist's desk, slightly out of breath. He leaned down to hug me, and I could feel myself stiffening up. I immediately felt bad for my reaction to his touch.
What was wrong with me?
Ryan, for his part, appeared not be ruffled by my obvious rejection. Still, he looked uncomfortable and unsure of what to d
o. “What would you like to do, beautiful?” he asked.
“Maybe walk on the grounds,” I said. “Wait here, I'll be back with my coat.” The sun was going down, so I knew that I would need some kind of warmth if we were going to be outside for a spell.
I got back, and the two of us walked along the grounds, onto a little nature trail. He didn't try to hold my hand, and I really didn't want him to, so that was ok. “So, how are things going so far?” he asked.
“Fine,” was all I said.
We walked along in the uncomfortable silence. I knew that he was trying to open me up, but I wasn't ready. I was still struggling with my irrational feelings of loathing for this beautiful and kind man.
But I couldn't tell him that.
“Have you thought any more about us doing counseling together?” he asked.
I nodded. “Maybe next week. I'm still trying to get adjusted here.”
“Sure, beautiful. Anything you like. You're the boss.”
“Yeah. I wish I was the boss when I told you I didn't want a bodyguard,” I blurted out.
Ryan said nothing. I didn't look at him, but I could imagine that he looked stricken.
We got to a little stream, and both of us sat on the ground on the banks. “I wish I knew what to say to you,” Ryan said. “I want to help you. How do I do that?”
I just shook my head and said nothing. Then “We better go back. It's getting really dark.”
Then we headed back in silence.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The days flew by. Make bed, eat breakfast, go to group therapy, see the shrink, then see Polly. I was starting to talk a little bit in group, but about nothing important. I only talked because the counselor was starting to get impatient about my passing every time. So, I made stuff up to satisfy them.
“I'm really fucked up because I'm a part of the Phelps family. You know, God Hates Fags and all of that,” I said to the group one day.
The rest of the group nodded, then some guy said “What a wack job, huh. Are you a grandkid to that Fred Phelps guy?”
“Sure,” I said. “So, now I'm a fugitive from there.”
“Bullshit,” said Candace, a recovering meth user. She was the one who was looking at me with a funny expression when I first got into the group. “I didn't want to say anything, but you're that girl who's married to that hot rich guy. The hot bisexual rich guy. Goddamn, if you don't want him, give him to me. I'll share him with my boyfriend anytime he wants.”
“Candace,” the leader said. “That's against the rules, calling people out like that. We're supposed to remain anonymous in here.”
“Sorry, but she can't go around saying that she's part of an anti-gay cult when she's married to a guy who swings both ways.”
At that, the group started to getting into a heated argument about me, my life, and how much of my life was supposed to be brought up to the group. I really didn't care. Ironically, the argument took the focus off of me, as everybody was arguing about me, without paying much attention to any input that I wanted to add.
But, now that my cover was blown, I knew that I couldn't get away with anymore lies about my past. So, I just resorted to shutting up and not talking, much to my group leader's chagrin.
Fuck him, he can't make me talk if I don't want to.
I only looked forward to every evening, when I could see Polly. I was riding her now, and, every evening, Jamie and I took her out. I bridled her, led her, then rode her along with Jamie, out into the woods. I was very tentative at first, never having ridden a horse, with the exception of the very slow horse rides that were offered at Benjamin Stables in Kansas City. But I soon got used to her, and she to me, and we galloped for miles through the woods. One evening we ended up on one of the beaches, galloping through the sand and surf.
I also visited her whenever I could, because she was the only company that I really wanted during this time. After the awkward evening with Ryan, where we walked along in silence, I started putting him off, and making excuses for why he couldn't come and visit me. I would tell him I was tired, or had a headache, or was nauseated.
Actually, the nauseated excuses were often true. I was often extremely sick to my stomach, and found myself throwing up. I didn't tell anybody, though, because I didn't want to have to undergo any medical tests. I wasn't detoxing anymore, so I surmised that there was something wrong with me. And I had too many blows for there to be one more, so I kept quiet. I was in denial, I knew, but what else was new?
But I was never too tired for Polly. I talked to her for hours.
Then, one night, I finally let her in on my secret. The secret that I had been keeping for 22 years.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was an unseasonably warm evening, about three weeks after I arrived at this place, when I finally decided to let Polly in on what was going on with me. “Polly,” I began. “I told you when I first came here that I had a secret about what happened to me in the seventh grade. Well, now you deserve to know,” I said, as I brushed her, and stroked her ears. “There was a gym teacher. A very handsome gym teacher. The girls were googly-eyes about him, including me. I was 12. I had crushes on all types of boys, and men, too. He noticed me, Polly. He noticed me.”
Then I looked at my hands on her neck and mane. They were shaking uncontrollably. “I miscarried his baby, Polly. He and I had sex behind the bushes in the fields behind the school. It was only the one time, but I know that I miscarried his baby. I passed clots, huge clots, when I got my period after we did it. I never told anybody about this.”
It was then that I finally figured out the source of my self-loathing. The gym teacher, of course, kinda forgot about me after that incident in the bushes. There were rumors that he was doing the same thing to a lot of other girls. Then he was transferred out of the school for mysterious reasons, a few years after the incident between us.
I put my head into Polly's neck and mane, and wept uncontrollably. I ended up spending the night in the stable with her, laying down in the hay, not caring that I was probably laying on horse pee. The horse poop was dug out of the stall, so that wasn't a problem.
I couldn't move. I just lay down on the hay, and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After I had my cathartic experience with Polly, I was finally ready to have Ryan come with me to some therapy sessions. Our first session was scheduled for that Monday, with Dr. Bryan, a forty-something woman with corkscrew blonde hair and thick black Elvis Costello glasses.
Ryan seemed more than eager for this session. I dreaded it, but I knew that it had to happen. I had to get past my animosity for Ryan. I had to know that we weren't broken, just bent, like the song said. The only way to do that would be through these therapy sessions.
Ryan met me in Dr. Bryan’s office that Monday. My breath caught a little when he walked through the door. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. His dark, wavy hair. His perfectly chiseled face. His long, incredibly thick eyelashes, and his beautiful green eyes. His sensuous mouth, and perfect teeth. His rock-hard body.
I sighed, feeling giddy, like a schoolgirl.
Did this mean that I was falling in love with him all over again?
I hoped so.
He sat down next to me, and I took his hand. Those beautiful green eyes got huge at my gesture, then he broke into an enormous smile. Tentatively, he put his hand in my hair, gauging my reaction to his touch. I smiled big, then he stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead. The words were unspoken, but we both knew.
We were going to be ok.
I was finally ready to open up.
Dr. Bryan observed us for a few minutes then addressed me “Mrs. Gallagher. Can I call you Iris?”
I nodded, smiling.
“Iris. I notice that the two of you seem to have come to some new kind of understanding of each other just now. It seems like there was a degree of tension when Mr. Gallagher came into the room, now that tension seems to have passed. Could you tell
me what you are feeling right now?”
“I love my husband. I really, really, love my husband.”
“Ok,” she said. “And, is that different than the feelings you felt before?”
I hesitated, looking at Ryan. He was still watching me, those beautiful green eyes full of passion and love. Then I looked back at Dr. Bryan. “Yes. I have felt....contempt, and irrational hatred for him.”
“I see,” she said. “Mr. Gallagher, do you know why your wife would have felt this way about you?”
He nodded.
“Why, Mr. Gallagher, do you feel that your wife hated you?”
“Please, call me Ryan,” he said, then squeezed my hand. Then he hesitated for a few minutes, looking at me, then said, quietly, with his head down “It was my fault that she was raped.”
“Why do you feel that way, Ryan?” asked Dr. Bryan.
“I was trying to protect her. I was going away on a business trip, and, even while I was in town, I was going to be working long hours in the office. I'm a bank president, and I had taken an extended leave of absence that was ending. And Iris was being threatened by a woman from my past. So I wanted to protect her while I was gone.” Then he broke down a little. “I wanted to protect her. Instead, she was raped. If I didn't hire that guy, she wouldn't have been raped.”
“Is that true?” Dr. Bryan asked me.
“Yes, that's true,” I said. “I've been journaling about it since I've been here, and I have this horse that has really helped me. I wasn't ready to face my rage about what happened to me. I wasn't ready to admit it to myself that such a thing even happened at all. So, I think that I channeled my rage at Ryan, instead of where it should be.”
“Have you talked about this to Dr. Knight?”
“No. I just kinda had an epiphany last night when I talked to my horse. I've been punishing Ryan not only for Andrew, but also Rochelle, and...Mr. Green.” I changed the name of the gym teacher. I was still afraid of getting him into trouble.
