by L. L. Soares
“What about it?” Charlie asked, not getting the question at all. “What do you want to know?”
Everything, Sam thought, but knew that to voice it would confuse Charlie more. If someone had asked him such a question, it wouldn’t baffle him in the slightest. He’d simply catalog every slight and grievance he could think of, and take it from there. But Charlie clearly needed guidelines.
“Well, is there anything in particular you remember? Anything that left a big impression on you? A joyful event? A trauma? Usually the really bad stuff takes a while to unearth, but if you are feeling particularly helpful today, I’ll go with it.”
Charlie didn’t laugh. Sam had never seen the boy so much as crack a smile, and he really didn’t expect that to happen anytime soon. But there was a calmness about him now that wasn’t there before. All his patients went through this transformation at some point. Sam was surprised that it didn’t take long for it to wash over Charlie, although it was far from complete. After all, the boy’s eyes still had the look of a caged animal, looking for a way out. The boy’s anger was far from gone, but it was more subdued now, controllable. The fidgeting was reduced to a minimum. And he didn’t seem so confrontational now. No suddenly revealed knives. No threats and challenges. Charlie sat in his seat and listened. He actually seemed on the verge of actually answering something, if he could just think of the right words.
“How about my eighth birthday?” Charlie volunteered.
“Sure, great,” Sam said. “It’s a beginning.”
“When I was eight, I had this party in the back yard. All my cousins were there. Some kids from school. And we ate ice cream. Played tag. Shit like that.”
“So it’s a good memory?”
Charlie hesitated. “After everybody left, my father pulled out his belt and beat me, because I left some gift wrapping on the lawn. He hit me right there, in the back yard, for all the neighbors to see.”
The source of Charlie’s rage was so obvious, it was almost laughable. But Sam didn’t really care about the source. It was less than insignificant to him.
He almost said, And how did that make you feel? Another therapist’s cliché. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. All this talking was such bullshit, really.
“So it’s a bad one,” Sam said. “A moment of pain, humiliation. Does it still make you angry to think about it now?”
Not that Does it still make you angry to think about now? was any different than How did that make you feel? He found himself falling back to the clichés, for lack of anything else to say. He almost hated himself for it.
“Not really,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t bother me too much now.”
“Are you sure about that, Charlie? Are you sure that it doesn’t hurt at all?”
“Yeah.”
“No anger at all?”
Charlie thought about it. “Nope.”
“Do you feel like it happened to somebody else? That it wasn’t you? When you look back, is it like standing outside yourself, watching it happening to a stranger?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“It’s important that you’re able to discuss this, Charlie. But emotionally, you’re cold to it. You’re distancing yourself. And that’s part of the problem.”
“Whatever. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It is,” Sam said, trying to sound as positive as possible. “It’s exactly what I’m
looking for. And so much sooner than I expected. Most people can’t face these things so early on. You’re doing fine. My point is that the way you remember it, it points to the problem here.”
“How?”
“You don’t feel anything, Charlie. You’ve shut off your reaction to what your father did to you. And it’s those emotions we want to get at. If we can get at them, we can get to the heart of your anger, Charlie. Then real changes can begin.”
Charlie half-nodded. Sam was sure the boy had no fucking idea what he was talking about. But he was trying.
“So,” Sam said. “What kind of relationship do you have with your father now?”
Charlie half-glared at him. It was part reproach, part disbelief that he would ask him such a thing.
“He left us years ago. Good riddance, too,” Charlie said. “I hope he’s dead.”
“You haven’t heard from him in years?”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore. He’s gone and that’s all that matters now.”
The tone of Charlie’s voice told Sam that this was suddenly dangerous territory. He normally would have pursued it anyway, because it was at least stirring up emotions, breaking the calmness. But their session was coming to a close and there wasn’t time to explore it properly.
“Charlie,” Sam said. “I wanted to ask you something before you left today. I hold a group session every Tuesday and Thursday night. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in attending.”
“Group? You mean you want me to talk about things in front of a bunch of strangers?”
“I think it would be good for you to be around other people who have the same problems. People who can relate to you.”
“You’re lucky I show up at all,” Charlie said. “No, I don’t want to go to no group sessions.”
“Okay, I just wanted to ask. I thought it might do you good.”
“Fuck that.”
Sam saw in an image in his head. The back of his hand connecting with Charlie’s face. But instead, he forced a smile. “Enough of that, Charlie.”
“Is it time for me to go?”
Sam made a big production out of looking at his watch. “Yep, it is. You’re free again.”
“Good,” Charlie got up and went to the door.
“See you again tomorrow, Charlie.”
“Maybe,” the kid said, and left the room.
Sam knew that there were other patients waiting outside, but he didn’t want to see them. He had too many things on his mind.
He thought about the night before. Going home in a kind of daze. He remembered showering before he went to bed, but not much else. He thought Maggie had come into the bathroom at some point, but he couldn’t be sure.
This morning, he’d tried to wake her, but she’d complained of feeling sick. So he let her sleep.
In the old days he would have considered staying home with her, taking care of her. But he had an obligation to his patients. Especially Charlie. He had to get through to that kid.
Another thing he had found upsetting was the obituary he’d found in the back of the paper during his commute to work. Richard Croix dead at age 42. Apparent heart attack. That bothered him. The man had seemed healthy, strong. And he had been making such good progress.
Sam felt a wave of remorse over losing another one. It always hurt to spend time helping someone, and have them flicker away like a burned-out bulb. Well, at least it didn’t appear to be a suicide. That would have been a real failure.
Sam wondered if anyone would be calling the office to tell him Croix wouldn’t be coming anymore, his wife perhaps? Probably not. She would be too caught up in her own grief. Calling the therapist was a low priority when funeral arrangements were being made.
Should I go to his funeral? Sam wondered. No, I didn’t know him well enough, and certainly not on a personal basis.
At least Croix felt like he was getting his life back together before he died, if that was any consolation, Sam thought. I helped him get some control over his anger. Made his life a little better.
Oh well, Sam thought, getting up from his chair. I’ve got other patients to see.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I want to get away from here,” Maggie was saying as she led Viv inside. She closed the door after them and locked it.
“Why, is he coming back soon?”
“It was so weird last night,” Maggie said. “He was acting so strange. And the blood. There was blood everywhere.”
Maggie led her to the bathroom, which had since been cleaned. Maggie was able to
find a few neglected spots here and there, though, which could have been blood.
“I guess you didn’t dream it. But maybe there was a good explanation.”
“You don’t know how it’s been,” Maggie said. “He’s been acting so strange lately. Coming and going at all hours of the night, and never telling me where. When he
thinks I’m sleeping, he slips out. At first I thought there was another woman, but now I don’t think it’s that at all.
“When I saw the blood, I got to thinking some pretty terrible things. And the way he acted when I came in here, it scared me. I really don’t know what to think.”
“He didn’t attack you?”
“No, but he had that look in his eyes. Early on, when we were first married, he’d get that look sometimes. And he did hit me a few times then. I thought that was all behind us now, but it’s like everything’s falling apart.”
“Calm down,” Viv told her. “You’re getting upset.”
“I just don’t want to stay here, Viv. I don’t feel safe here anymore.”
“How did he act this morning, when he tried to wake you?”
They both went out into the hallway. Maggie led the way to the kitchen. There she opened a bottle of wine and didn’t even bother finding a glass.
“He seemed okay, I guess. Like nothing ever happened. He sounded concerned when I told him I felt sick. Not concerned enough to stay, thank God.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t a dream? Maybe those spots in the bathroom are something else.”
“It wasn’t a goddamn dream, Viv! I swear it wasn’t.”
“Okay, I believe you. I’m just trying to figure this out. It’s a strange story. You’re sure he wasn’t injured somehow. Maybe he got in an accident or something.”
“I thought that at first, too, but he didn’t seem hurt at all. He was just angry. You should have heard the tone of his voice. I really thought he’d kill me if I didn’t leave him alone.”
Viv moved closer, put her arms around Maggie. “You’ve got to calm down. You’re a wreck.”
“You’ve got to take me away from here, Viv. Please.”
“Isn’t there anywhere you can go? Your mother’s place maybe.”
“I really don’t talk to her much anymore. It’s a long story, but she married this horrible guy a few years ago. There’s no way I’m going there. And I really don’t want to involve any of my friends. You’re all I’ve got, Viv.”
“Maggie, we just met. How can you expect me to take you away?”
“Maybe I could stay at your place for a while. Until I figure out what to do.”
“No, my roommates wouldn’t go for it. There’s no room there.”
Maggie put down the bottle and hugged her close. “Viv, you’ve got to help me.”
Viv had been surprised when Maggie showed up at the bar again. It was true that she had gone there, hoping to see Maggie again, too, but she didn’t think things would happen so fast. In fact, she’d wished Maggie wouldn’t come back. She’d purposely not given Maggie her phone number or her address. There was no way Maggie could find her if she didn’t want to be found. But there was also this soft aching inside Viv, this growing need, that made her go where Maggie might find her.
If she were the kind who prayed, Viv would have prayed that Maggie would stay away from her. But she had appeared like a sudden ghost, materializing out of thin air, as Viv sat in a corner booth with her morning screwdriver. She’d sat down across from her and told her how she was terrified of her husband. How she had to get away.
Reluctantly, Viv returned to the house with her. They could talk there, Maggie had said. But there was always the chance her husband could return, or something could go wrong. Viv never liked to go to their houses. It was better to meet in anonymous places, so nobody could trace her. And there was no way she’d bring someone back to her place.
Maggie was crying now. The tears were warm on her shoulder. Viv rubbed the back of her head.
“You really need to calm down,” Viv said. “You’re worrying yourself sick here.”
“Please take me away,” Maggie said. “Anywhere. Anywhere at all.”
“Okay,” Viv said. “We’ll go somewhere where he can’t find you. And then, when you get a hold of yourself, I’ll help you in whatever you decide to do.”
“Do you promise?” Maggie asked, pulling away, and looking at her through tear-stained eyes.
“I promise.”
“Oh, Viv, you don’t know what it means to me, to have you here. I don’t know who else I could have turned to about this.”
“Gather up some of your things,” Viv said. “And we’ll get started.”
Viv had no idea where they were going, but her car was just outside. She had an idea that anywhere would be okay, as long as they didn’t have to stay here.
Maggie went to pack her clothes. She brought the wine bottle with her.
Viv stayed in the living room. On a hearth, there was a framed picture of Maggie and a man, holding each other. Smiling. It had to be her husband. They made a nice couple. Viv tried to imagine him covered with blood, with rage in his eyes. It was a difficult image to conjure.
“There was blood everywhere,” Maggie had said. There was no real evidence of such a bloodbath now. Just a few miniscule drops in the bathroom, which could have been anything. But she believed Maggie. There was no reason to make up a story like that.
Not that it mattered much. Even if Viv hadn’t come along, Maggie would have left anyway. Better to go with her and keep an eye on her. Because at this point, if Maggie slipped away, it would be torture trying to find her again. The pain inside her was growing, and it couldn’t be ignored much longer.
And there wasn’t enough time to find a suitable substitute at this point.
* * *
“So what do you want to do?” Jeremy asked. “We can do anything you want. Anything at all.”
“I don’t know.”
“We could go for a drive somewhere, get something to eat.”
Colleen fidgeted. “I’ll go along with whatever you say.”
“It’s so nice to have someone to do things with again,” Jeremy said. “It’s been such a long time. There was a time when I could count on Viv to do things with me, but she’s hardly ever here anymore.”
“Where does she go all the time?”
“I have no idea,” he said, and she could tell he was holding something back.
“Seriously, what do you want to do? I’m game for anything,” she told him.
“Is something wrong?” Jeremy asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just kind of strange. One minute I’m in my own apartment. Sure it was as big as a birdcage, but I’d lived there for years. And now, here I am, in this big house by the beach. It just takes getting used to, I guess.”
“It’s not me, is it?”
“Why would you say that, Jeremy? You’ve been nothing but wonderful to me. I owe you so much. I’ve never met anyone like you in my whole life.”
He leaned over the back of the couch, beside where she sat. “I sure hope you feel that way. I didn’t rush you out of your old place, did I? I just thought you wouldn’t feel safe there anymore.”
She leaned toward him and kissed him. The watery eyes didn’t bother her. The slight spittle that occasionally collected in the corner of his slightly malformed mouth didn’t stop her. He wasn’t the hideous creature he obviously thought he was. She was determined to make him realize that.“That was nice,” Colleen said. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now.”
“Really?”
“I used to have such a crush on you, when you were in the magazines. You don’t know. And now to be here with you. It’s hard to believe.”
“Colleen, I know I don’t look exactly like I used to then. I want to be honest with you, right from the start. There was a plane accident. It was one of those little planes. I was flying, taking some friends for a ride, and we’d all been drinking. I
just lost control. Everyone died but me. It was horrible.”
“I think I read about it somewhere,” Colleen said. “It was a long time ago.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“Of course not. What a horrible thing to go through.”
“The guilt was unbearable. And there was so much reconstructive surgery. Even now, I feel so strange sometimes. Especially my face.”
She leaned toward him and kissed him again, to quiet him.
“I really wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said. “I guess I didn’t know how to say it until now.”
Jeremy was speechless. She started unbuttoning his shirt. He swept her up and carried her down the hall to his bedroom.
* * *
Sam was driving around, with no idea where he was going.
After he’d taken the subway home, he’d been surprised to find the house empty. He’d waited awhile, but he could tell something was wrong. He called Maggie’s cell phone, but she didn’t answer. He even called her work, but the office was closed for the day and he only got a recorded message. Considering Maggie’s recent behavior, this got him worried, so he took the car out to look for her.
The problem was, he really didn’t know where he could find her. A bar perhaps? A liquor store? He’d gone to a few of them near the house, but she wasn’t there. He’d started checking some of the bars further out, toward the city, but still no luck.
He’d stopped for something to eat and then just kept driving. More to keep his mind off of things than to really find her. He knew he should probably go home soon to check if she was back yet, since he’d been gone for hours.
As he drove along a long stretch of road, he saw a girl illuminated in his headlights. She wore a red jacket, and was carrying a suitcase, which she appeared to be having trouble with. For the briefest of moments, he thought it might be Maggie, but it wasn’t.
Sam pulled over to the side of the road and rolled his window down.
“Having trouble?” he asked.
The girl hesitated, then moved closer to the car. She looked him over. He could
