When Love Calls

by Unknown

  As I pulled into the parking lot of Dr. Stevenson’s office, I took one final deep, cleansing breath before stepping from the car and making my way toward the door. I had gotten used to the feelings that came during and after these sessions. They always stirred up emotional memories and I felt weighed down afterward. Dr. Stevenson had mentioned it would feel a lot worse before it felt better because I’d have to go through everything that had ever hurt me all over again. The difference was supposed to be that this time I could navigate through them on my own terms and in a way that would allow each scar to heal. I was still waiting for the day that the heaviness would no longer be there. I already knew today wouldn’t be that day.

  Elaine, the receptionist, checked me in and moments later Dr. Stevenson appeared from the end of the hall. She was dressed sleekly as always. Today it was a fitted charcoal gray suit with a sapphire blue silk shirt. Her dark hair was pinned up as always and her dark-rimmed glasses rested delicately on the tip of her nose. I wondered if that was deliberate or if she just kept them there because that’s where they would slide down to anyway.

  “Good afternoon Ms. Porter. We can head back to my office.” I followed Dr. Stevenson back to her office and sat down on the cushy brown sofa. As usual, I grabbed one of the throw pillows and placed it in my lap. For some reason, it comforted me as I delved into the sad places in my mind. I watched as Dr. Stevenson settled in her seat and grabbed her legal pad and a pen. “So, how have things been going since our last session? I know it’s has been a couple of weeks. Have you thought any more about the question I posed to you at your last visit?”

  “Yes, I actually have and I’ve started working toward figuring out the answer. Since we last met, some things have changed. I mean in me, not just in my situation. I haven’t told anyone else this, but I’ve finally had a taste of what it feels like to be alive and present in my life. I know that I want more of that. I also know that means I have to deal with the issues from my past so I don’t screw up my future. I’m convinced that if I don’t get past my previous experiences I’ll never truly be able to move on. That scares me and motivates me at the same time. I want to overcome, acknowledge and deal with my past, but I also fear letting it go because if I do, what’s left of me? If I no longer have my sister’s death as my sole motivation, what else is there? I have no idea who I am without her and for that reason I haven’t let her go. In terms of a family, I’m alone in the world. I have no husband, no children and no extended family. If I let go of my sister, she is all the family I have left. I have lived for her for so long because no one else would or could. My mom had to finish raising me and my father was nowhere to be found. I made sure that my sister didn’t die in vain and that no one would forget that she was here. I never forgot! She was my only sister and I wanted everyone to know I never forgot that she was here.” As usual, my eruption was followed by salty tears that trickled down from my eyes and into my mouth. How could I ever let go? It would be like giving up on my sister, and in my heart of hearts, that was exactly what my mother had done when she agreed to pull the plug. I had never forgiven her for making that decision. She had taken away my one and only companion in life.

  My mother had been indifferent to both me and my sister. She believed the quality of her life would have been better without us and she frequently reminded us of that. Em and I had clung to each other for hope, friendship and love. Because we were poor, we got picked on a lot by other kids because of our clothes, or lack thereof. I was always trying to come up with the most modern ways to work with what we had and even sacrificed and altered my own clothes to make sure Emily’s outfits were decent.

  All those years ago I had been the one to step up and provide for my sister. Every day I fought for her and defended her against the relentless teasing of school kids. My mother just told us we needed to toughen up and that no one was going to coddle us through life. She certainly didn’t, that’s for sure. I had become tough. I was a fighter because it was what I thought I was supposed to be, but when the time came for my mother to fight, she didn’t. She never fought for Emily’s life. She just let her go because it was costing her too much.

  “Ms. Porter, are you ready to begin?” Dr. Stevenson was observing me with a furrowed brow and intense gaze. I wondered how long I’d gotten lost in my thoughts this time before she intervened.

  “Yes, I’m ready,” I could already feel my heart beginning to pound in my head.

  “So, when we last talked, you mentioned that you had become a Pediatric Surgeon to sort of pay homage to your sister and her memory. My question to you was what you would have done in life if your sister hadn’t died. Can you tell me more about what you’ve come up with regarding the answer to that question?”

  “Dr. Stevenson, I’ve honestly just started thinking more in depth about the question in the past three days. I realized that it was valid because I didn’t know who I was without the death of my sister driving me. Even one of my friends told me that she knew I was good at my job but couldn’t tell if I enjoyed it. When I asked myself the question, even I wasn’t sure. For that reason, I’ve taken some time off to try some activities that used to interest me to see what I enjoy. I want to feel passionate about something and right now I just… don’t.” Well, that’s not entirely true, I thought. I was passionate with Mike. He was the first man to truly make me release all my inhibitions. Even now, just the thought of how his hands had explored my body ignited an erotic fire within me. Yes, there was at least one thing with one man that I found and felt passion. I didn’t bother mentioning it because I knew that wasn’t what the doc was looking for.

  Dr. Stevenson peered at me over her glasses. “Tell me more about this leave of absence and what your plans are while you’re off.” I went into the story about my letter to myself and how I planned to complete the bucket list in it. “So, when you complete the list do you think you’ll have a better understanding of what you want from life now and what you’re passionate about?”

  I thought for a moment and said, “Well, the things on the list are still things I haven’t done and they do require a certain measure of courage so I’m hoping at least one of them will inspire me.”

  “Maybe they will, but are they things that you still want to do? It would be pointless for you to complete the bucket list of a twenty-something year old Erin if that is not what thirty-something year old Erin wants to do.”

  I hadn’t considered that at all. I was so intent on doing something different that it hadn’t mattered in what direction I went. I was just ready to do something, anything that might cause a flicker in my heart. Mike had given me a taste of that feeling and I wanted more of it. “There are still some things on the list that I’d like to accomplish. In fact, I’d still like to do them all now that I think about it. I’d rather try them all and add to the list than to leave anything out. My goal is to explore everything. Who knows, I could find I’m still very interested in the things twenty year old Erin liked. Besides, I’m not a quitter. If I set out to do something, I finish it!”

  “Interesting,” Dr. Stevenson said as she jotted on her notepad. I hated it when she did that. I never knew what the “good doctor” was writing about me, but I assumed it was some note of sarcasm that highlighted my shortcomings. At least that’s how it felt to me whenever Dr. Stevenson revealed her little tidbit or thought. Here come the pearls of wisdom. I cringed. This was always the hardest part.

  “Erin, I hear you saying that you don’t give up on anything and that you are not a quitter. Do you believe that those two things are always the same? Do you believe that knowing when to walk away from something is the same as giving up?”

  I took a long, reflective moment to really soak in the questions. “No, I suppose they’re not the same thing. Walking away from something that’s no longer good for you is not the same as giving up on it. Giving up is what you do when you no longer want to put forth the effort, not because the thing or situation isn’t good, but because you just don’t wan
t to try anymore.” I watched Dr. Stevenson’s expression change and her eyebrow raise. I couldn’t blame her. I’d surprised myself with my answer and something about saying it out loud made it resonate with me. Time to come clean. “So,” I hesitated, “Some other things have changed since our last session. Josh and I broke up because he found out that I cheated on him last week in Las Vegas. It wasn’t planned, and while I regret hurting Josh, I don’t regret my actions. I was planning to reveal everything when I got home, but he found out about it before I could tell him and things ended badly. It’s probably for the best since I already have so much crap to sort through of my own.”

  Dr. Stevenson was jotting away on her pad as I talked. Every so often she glanced up at me. I knew she was assessing my body language. That made me shift uncomfortably on the couch and I was holding on to the pillow for dear life. I felt exposed by my confession. I can’t believe I said I don’t regret it. I’m sure she’ll have a field day with that. I swear I want to slap that damned legal pad out of her hand! I glanced at my watch and was pained to see that I still had another thirty minutes left in the session. I let out an anguished sigh before I could catch myself.

  “So, tell me more about your experience with long-term relationships. How have your others differed from this one?”

  I looked up from tracing the pattern on the overstuffed pillow and took a deep breath and held it until my lungs ached. I hadn’t planned to talk about this today. I released another exasperated sigh and began. “It’s funny that you should ask me that. The last attempt I made at a long-term relationship was in college. He cheated on me for more than a year of the time we were together and I found out because he got sloppy. I remember feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach and put my heart into a meat grinder at the same time. That day I vowed that no one else would ever get the chance to make me feel that way again and I made sure they didn’t. After Grayson I only dated guys for fun, nothing serious. Josh was the first person who ever even questioned my behavior or said he wanted more from me.” Again I was engrossed in the patterned fabric of the pillow. I pulled it in close as the painful college memories trickled back into my consciousness. The pain I’d felt then was the same pain I had caused Josh. Hot rivers flowed down my cheeks and soaked into the etched design of the pillow in my lap. I don’t want to do this. I wasn’t prepared to face this today. As hard as I tried to push every memory back into the shadowy hollow in my mind I couldn’t. I had opened that locked box in my psyche and now my darkest memory came creeping in. These were thoughts I’d promised myself I would never revisit. I remembered the days after my heartbreak and the unborn secret that was growing in my womb. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Grayson about it before I found out he was cheating. I knew there wasn’t a future for us and, at the time, believed there wasn’t one for me alone with a baby, so I’d had a friend take me to the clinic. Even now I could still smell the scent of the bleach and sterility of the small, dark doctor’s office as the crack in my memory vault became a crevice and more images came flooding out. The staff at the clinic wouldn’t let my friend come back to the examining room with me so there I lay, alone in the paper gown that they had given me. I stared blankly at the fish appliqués on the ceiling that were supposed to distract me from what was happening. The doctor and nurse came in with the ultrasound machine and confirmed my pregnancy and that I wasn’t too far along for the procedure. Seeing the small circle on the ultrasound screen had me rethinking my decision. In my heart, I wanted to jump down from the table, go home and figure out how I could make a life for me and my child, but my head overruled. There was no way I could finish medical school with a baby and no support system… so I stayed. I stayed and waited until they came back with the horrible machine that looked more like a vacuum than a surgical device. The local sedative dulled my senses but not the waves of guilt and fear. As tears slid down the sides of my face into my hair, I felt a warm hand grip mine. The nurse had been kind enough to hold my hand. I squeezed it tightly as I heard the machine roar to life. My lids closed tightly, I hummed along softly with Silent Night as it played in the speaker in the ceiling. I tried desperately to be somewhere else in my mind and to ignore the pulling force on the inside of my young body but I was still there and it was still happening. I continued to sob softly as the machine subsided to a low hum and then went silent.

  “Erin?!” I didn’t know how long Dr. Stevenson had been calling my name but I could see the concern engraved in her face. I tried to regain my composure. I wasn’t ready to share this with Dr. Stevenson or anyone else for that matter.

  “I apologize Dr. Stevenson. I drifted off for a moment. Where were we?”

  Reluctantly, she continued. “So Erin, it sounds like you’ve suffered your own heartache in a previous relationship that left you feeling too vulnerable so you’ve used disconnected, sexual relationships as a defense mechanism, is that right?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have put it in those exact terms, but I suppose that would be accurate. I haven’t had or even sought out any sort of relationship since college.”

  “Would you say that perhaps you’ve quit on relationships?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say I’ve quit. I would say until recently I had chosen to live my life without them. There weren’t any prospects and I wasn’t looking for any. Truthfully, the main reason I even tried to have a relationship is because I was the only person in my circle who still wasn’t in one. The social aspect of that poses its own challenges. Plus, I do want a family someday and a husband would be a part of that.” There she goes scratching away on that damned notepad! Ugh! I was grateful when she looked down at her watch. Yes! I need to get the hell out of here. NOW.

  “I think this was a really good session Erin. You made some great conclusions. Just to recap, you said you want to continue with your list so do that, and let’s see where that takes you. As for the area of relationships, I’d like for you to explore further why there haven’t been any real relationship prospects until you decided that you wanted to be in one, and what changed that desire enough for you to jeopardize and ultimately end your relationship. I’d also like to hear more about whether you still believe you’re ready to date someone long term.” Dr. Stevenson paused and peered knowingly at me over her glasses. “We can also discuss any deeper concerns you may have in the next session.”

  “Alright Doc, I’ll work on it. You’ve given me quite a list,” I said as I rose from the couch and made a beeline for the door. As expected, the session had me feeling heavy-hearted and thoughtful. I sat in my car for nearly ten minutes before I ignited the engine and wheeled out of the parking lot. I hadn’t thought about Grayson or the baby in years and deliberately so. I had blocked them both out because they were connected and thinking of one, inevitability, made me think about the other. It was one of the hardest battles I fought within myself, working constantly not to open the locked box of devastation that contained Grayson, my baby and the key to my heart. Taking the risk to open it could give me a chance once again to have an open heart, but it would also make me face an unbearable pain.

  Before I knew it, I was parked in front of the liquor store. This one calls for the hard stuff! I thought as I walked straight down the aisle and snatched up a bottle of Patrón. My body felt heavy and cumbersome as I drudged my way to the register. I could already feel an achy lump beginning to return to my throat, and I swallowed hard to stave off the emotions I knew would overtake me at any moment. I managed to suppress the tears long enough to pay the clerk before darting out the door.

  The drive home was nearly impossible because of my blurred vision. My chest heaved as I released wale after wale wrought with the agony of the memories as they overtook my mind. It was all I could do to pull into the driveway and get through the front door to the living room. I collapsed into the sofa. The same place I had mourned the loss of my patient and my sister seemed like a fitting place to mourn the death of my unborn child.

  I didn’t trouble myself with a
glass. I cracked open the seal, removed the cork and turned the tequila bottle up to my lips. Three large, stinging gulps ran down my throat before I set the bottle on the floor. I curled into the softness of the sofa as my cries lulled to whimpers and my spastic breathing became more even.

  Damn near everyone I’ve ever truly loved, I’ve lost. What did I ever do to deserve this much pain? Whatever it was and whoever I had pissed off, I was just one tragic event away from a complete mental breakdown. I had opened my heart in my session and now I regretted it because I was left facing the pain alone. The bottle felt a bit heavier this time as I lifted it to my mouth. I took a long swig and swallowed hard as it burned its way down. As the stinging in my chest subsided, I could feel the liquor numbing my brain, as well. That’s right. Wash away every somber memory. I can’t deal with them today. Tears rolled slowly across my nose and onto the pillow where my head rested. I closed my eyes and waited for the alcohol to subdue me into placid sleep.

  *****

  “Erin?! Erin baby, wake up!” A faint voice called to me through the fog of alcohol vapors and I felt my body being jostled back and forth. When I realized, I was being lifted from the couch I forced my heavy lids to open and my eyes to focus. Josh was cradling me in his arms like a newborn. He’s such a sweetie. I lugged my hand up to rest it against his cheek and showed him an inebriated smile. The panic in his face reduced to worry, though he still held me firmly.

  “I’m drunk Josh, not overdosed,” I said lethargically. “Where are you trying to whisk me off to?” My lazy gaze focused on his eyes. I saw nothing but genuine love there and it frightened me. Why doesn’t he have the sense to run from me? I’m not good for him. “Let me down!” I mustered up some sobriety and wriggled out of his arms. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?” I snapped. I realized now the reason for Josh’s concern as I glanced at the tequila bottle. All but a quarter of it was gone.