Long Hill Home

by Kathryn Pincus

  “Sam,” Kelly said as she re-entered the house, “please, just get me through the basics for the preliminary hearing. We have to make this quick. I need to spend some time mending fences today.”

  “No problem,” Sam said as he stood up from the kitchen counter stool. “Let’s get started.”

  *****

  Four hours later, Kelly sat in an empty waiting room with a dry potted fern in the corner clinging to life, and an array of magazines offering low-fat recipes and Caribbean vacations. She read the framed diplomas on the wall; University of Pennsylvania’s Perelman School of Medicine and Villanova University, Summa Cum Laude. Kelly noticed that Dr. Jeter had graduated from college only two years before she had. She was calculating Dr. Jeter’s age and surmising about her marital status when the door to an office opened and a tall woman with long, fiery red hair strode toward her with her hand extended.

  “Hello, Kelly. I’m Sally Jeter,” she said as she approached.

  Kelly stood and shook her hand. “Hello, Dr. Jeter. Thank you for seeing me so soon.”

  “Oh, no bother. I learned a long time ago to build this hour into my schedule just in case. And if no one needs me that day, I can catch up on paperwork or run an errand.” Dr. Jeter smiled warmly. “And please, call me Sally.” She gestured toward her office door. “Let’s go into my office. Would you like anything? Coffee? Water?”

  “No, thank you, I am fine,” Kelly responded as she watched Sally turn on her heeled boots and walk into a handsomely furnished office. Kelly followed her and sat down on a brown leather sofa.

  “So, Kelly,” she began, crossing one long leg over the other, “why don’t you start by telling me why you are here?”

  “I thought my doctor, Dr. Johnson, covered that already.”

  “Yes, I spoke to Dr. Johnson. And I read newspaper articles about your attack and about your case. But just try, if you could, to tell me why you are here, now.”

  As Kelly sat gathering her thoughts, Dr. Jeter opened a brown bag that peeked from her large handbag. “And, if you don’t mind, I’ll eat while you fill me in.” She pulled out a sandwich and a banana. She held the banana up to Kelly. “Are you hungry?”

  “Oh, no, thank you,” Kelly said, hurriedly. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, we know that you are not ‘fine,’ Kelly, or I wouldn’t have the pleasure of meeting you today.” Dr. Jeter smiled warmly again. “You seem like a strong, capable woman, but I know you must need to talk to someone about the attack.”

  Kelly bristled when she heard the word “attack.” As she prepared to speak, facts, emotions, images all flashed in her head in a jumbled mess. “I’m not a big believer in psychiatry and therapy and all of that. I just feel like I should tell you that right off. I’ve never been to a therapist and I don’t think I know anyone who has.”

  “You would be surprised to discover who comes to me and my colleagues, Kelly. Many of my clients are people who are very successful, accomplished, popular, and strong—whatever you think of when you think of people who would never need the likes of me. It is okay to need a little professional guidance to get you through rough patches in life, and there should be no shame in it.”

  Kelly liked that Sally used the word clients and not patients. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I guess I’m just a little uncomfortable with the territory.”

  “No offense taken. Your discomfort is normal. Also, you will get more comfortable sharing with me—I have that effect on people,” Sally said, drawing a smile from Kelly.

  “I respect you tremendously, Kelly. I know you are a strong woman, a lawyer, a wife and mother, and an athlete. I also know that some terribly wicked man did horribly painful things to you. And, although I wouldn’t suggest for a moment that I know how it feels, I have a pretty good idea of what you have been through and what feelings you may experience as a result.” Sally paused for a moment to take a bite of her sandwich. She held her right hand up as she did so, to signal that she was not finished with her thought. After she swallowed, she continued speaking. “You are going to have to dig deep and self-examine and explain to me fully and honestly in order for me to help you try to sort this out and move on.”

  “Hah!” Kelly feigned a laugh angrily. “Move on. Just like that?” She paused for a moment. “You sound like my husband. And I am sure it is on the mind of others who have not said it, like my co-workers, my clients, my kids.”

  “That’s it, Kelly!” Sally blurted out. “Anger is something you are feeling. Tell me about it.”

  Kelly sat still for a moment, and then her words came in a rush, streaming out so quickly that she did not realize that she was spitting a little as she spoke. “Anger! Yes. White-hot, all-consuming anger that makes me want to kill this man!” Kelly hit her balled fist against her other palm. “Anger that fills me up and makes it impossible for me to eat, sleep, think. I am angry when I sit in traffic and when it rains and when the checkout person at the supermarket is slow and I am angry when my partners expect me to plow full-speed ahead into a trial schedule as if this never happened, and I am angry at my husband when he…when he….” Kelly sat mute for a moment searching the wall behind Sally for clues to finish her sentence.

  “When he what?” Sally asked. “When or why are you angry at your husband?” Sally realized she did not even know Kelly’s husband’s name yet, or very much else about Kelly, for that matter, but this seemed like a productive path to pursue.

  Kelly put her face in her hands and spoke softly, with her words falling onto her lap. “I am angry at Dan because he keeps going on about his day as if this is all going to be okay. He is there for me; he cooks, he takes care of the girls…our daughters. He is patient, gentle….he is concerned….”

  “Sounds like a real bastard,” Sally said, shocking Kelly with her sarcasm.

  Kelly looked up from her hands at this comment. “What?”

  “Come on Kelly. It sounds to me like you just described the husband you can’t possibly get mad at. I mean, he’s loving, gentle, helpful, patient and supportive. He’s a good father who is hands-on with the kids. Why are you angry at him?”

  Kelly sat quietly for what seemed like an eternity. She thought of Dan. She recalled him at her side in the hospital, his hand stroking her head right before the woman came in to put her legs up in stirrups to take photos and specimens for evidence. She saw him balling up her sweaty sheets and opening her blinds to sunlight as he persuaded her to go outside and get some fresh air. She bit her lip as she pictured him lying next to her every night in bed, his beautiful chest moving up and down quietly as he breathed, his boxer shorts covering the swell of unanswered desire, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, wondering when she would ever touch him again. Then she recalled him sleeping on the couch, alone, unreachable. She started to cry. Huge, sloppy tears poured down her cheeks, and loud sobs escaped from her mouth. Sally deftly pulled tissues out of a box and handed them to Kelly.

  “That’s good, Kelly. It’s okay. Go ahead and feel it. No one is here to hear you and no one is judging you. Let it go.” She put her hand on her shoulder.

  Kelly kept her head in her hands the whole time, except to dab the wetness and the black smears of mascara off of her eyes. She looked up and said quietly, “I have no reason to be angry at Dan. I just am.”

  Sally spoke gently. “It sounds like you might be using a coping technique called displacement. You direct your anger or emotion at the wrong person, or the wrong outlet. Dan didn’t cause your anger, but he’s an easy target for it. We need to figure out better coping mechanisms right now, Kelly,” Sally said softly. “Do you want to take a breather?”

  “No.” Kelly looked up, wiping her eyes. “You’ve hit the nail on the head already. I’m starting to think that I’ve been deliberately hurting Dan, and I don’t even know why. He doesn’t deserve it.”

  Sally waited a moment for Kelly to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. “You said he doesn’t deserve it. Just like you did not deserve the
hurt that was inflicted on you by your attacker. Maybe you want your husband to feel some of that too, to ‘get it.’ Or, at the very least, possibly you just are venting your hurt and anger onto the closest target.”

  Kelly looked at Sally in earnest, very interested in what she was saying, desperately looking for some sense in her feelings, searching for some form of a solution. “One thing I want you to think about today is whether you can use a different means to deal with the anger and hurt. Try to recognize Dan again as your ally, because he can be a great source of comfort or strength for you now.”

  Kelly thought about Sally’s words for a moment. She had never experienced this type of anger. This anger seeped out of her skin and permeated every minute of her day. “I don’t know, Sally,” Kelly said. “I’ve been angry before. You know, at a nasty opposing counsel or an uncooperative client, or even the jerk that drives right behind your car or cuts you off on I-95, but this is a whole different animal.”

  “Well,” Sally said, “with those other examples, how do you respond to your anger? What do you do to make you feel better?”

  “I guess I swear sometimes, if my girls aren’t with me.” Kelly chuckled a little, uncomfortable with that admission. “And I usually vent to my co-workers or to Dan.” Kelly thought for a moment. She nodded her head as if remembering something important. “And, often, I put on my running shoes and I run.”

  “You what?” Sally said.

  “I run almost every morning, for forty-five minutes, or an hour, whatever I have time for and feel like.” Kelly sat as in deep thought, remembering how her morning run made her feel. “It’s cathartic.” She continued. “I’m moving along, arms and legs pumping, breathing, moving, through the new day. Somehow it defuses or eliminates frustration, anxiety, anger.” Kelly looked at Sally’s eyes, “Don’t get me wrong, the underlying problems are not necessarily solved, but my physical reaction to them usually is. And often I have worked up some sort of plan to deal with the problem, or at least I’ve put it in perspective when I’m finished with my run.”

  Hmmm,” Sally said crossing her legs. “Are you running these days?”

  “No,” Kelly said. “Not since the attack.” She looked down at her folded hands on her lap. “I was running when I was attacked.”

  “Yes, I saw that it in the newspaper,” Sally said matter-of-factly.

  Kelly sat quietly and thought for a moment. She decided at that moment that she liked Sally. She liked her directness. Despite her warmth, she did not try to soften the facts or talk around them.

  “It sounds to me like you have a ready and healthy support system here to help you through this, Kelly. You have a loving and supportive husband, and a physical and healthy outlet in your running. You just have to get yourself to a place where you are not avoiding them or demonizing them.” Sally twirled a long strand of her red hair in her fingers as she spoke, reminding Kelly of Anna. “Do you think maybe you blame yourself—you know, for running alone along that river that day? Or even Dan, for not protecting you?”

  Kelly felt Sally’s gaze on her, waiting for her reply. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “I can’t blame Dan for anything. He wasn’t there when it happened and I know if there had been anything he could have done to protect me, he would have. I don’t know why I have been angry at him.”

  “Why don’t you tell him that tonight?” Sally said. “Just tell him that you realize you have been treating him differently and you are not sure why, but that you do not and cannot blame him for this.” Sally stood up, signaling that she was starting to wrap up their session.

  Kelly looked at her watch and was surprised to see that the hour had passed.

  “That’s enough for a homework assignment.” Sally smiled at Kelly and put her hand on her shoulder. “Letting go of your anger in whatever positive way you can, and not directing it toward people who are there for you. Try to lean on that wonderful husband of yours. I am sure he is feeling guilt and anger also, and he will be relieved to be able to share this with you, rather than feel like it is a rift between you.”

  “Uhm, okay.” Kelly rose from her chair. “I’m not real clear, and I am a little embarrassed. But I have to get to the point since it is time to go. Are you telling me to be physically intimate with my husband?”

  “Kelly, sex can be complicated after you have been a victim of a sexual assault. So, you’ll know when you are ready with Dan.” She smiled. “You could try to have sexy thoughts about him. Admire the things you love about him and try to recall those feelings even if you are not ready to act on them. That will help you get there eventually.”

  “Uhm, okay. Thank you.” Kelly extended her arm to shake Sally’s hand.

  “Can you come back in two days?” Sally said. “Is that good for you or do you want to come just once a week?”

  “Two days is good,” Kelly said, “unless you have some time tomorrow.” Kelly was surprised at how much this session had meant to her. She felt like she could be open with Sally—and Sally had wise words and perspective, but mostly she was honest and nonjudgmental.

  “I think two days is a good idea, Kelly. I’ll see you at the same time, noon. “You have some homework to do with Dan and you need to digest what we discussed today. You can bring lunch if you want. I’ll be eating.” Sally pointed to the remnants of the turkey sandwich that had been her lunch. She retrieved a business card off of her desk. “I am writing my cell phone number on this card and my home phone, because I’ll feel better if you have access to me right now.”

  “Thank you,” Kelly said as she took the business card and tucked it into her wallet. “There is a lot going on with the investigation and prosecution of this case, and I will be busy—but I may also need some professional guidance in the next few weeks.”

  “Well, feel free, Kelly, I am glad to be of service.” Sally laughed and added, “A little glad to hear that lawyers can’t solve everything.”

  *****

  After leaving Sally’s office, Kelly sent a text message to Dan. She was not yet ready to talk to him. She needed a time where there would be no interruptions, where she might actually have a chance to bridge the endless chasm between them and to connect with him again somehow.

  I’ll get the girls from school this afternoon.

  Dan’s reply seemed terse. OK.

  At day’s end, Kelly watched as the children streamed out of Brandywine Elementary School. She saw Gracie first, with her big smile and her ponytail high on her head. Gracie waved and jumped up gleefully as she spotted her mother in the carpool line. Behind Gracie, Anna reluctantly approached her car. She looked down at her feet as she shuffled out of the school, with a heavy backpack slung over one shoulder. As her little sister tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward Kelly, Anna merely nodded, glanced up to confirm her location, and then put her head back down to continue shuffling toward the car. Kelly’s heart was heavy as she realized how Anna must have been feeling. She had not been there to help her daughter struggle with fear, sadness, and even embarrassment in the wake of her attack.

  “Hey, Mommy!” Grace shrieked. “I am so glad you are here to get us.”

  “Yeah, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Anna remarked sarcastically.

  “I have been missing my girls too much!” Kelly twisted around from the driver’s seat in an awkward attempt to face them as they entered her car. Grace climbed over and into a booster seat behind Kelly, while Anna sat and quietly pulled her seat belt across her chest and lap. With her body still twisted around to look at her daughters, Kelly declared, “I’m making your favorite dinner tonight. Can you guess?”

  “Lasagna?” Gracie asked.

  “You got it!” Kelly answered happily, turning to look straight ahead and to turn the key in the ignition. “And I’m making a chocolate layer cake.”

  “Yippee!” Grace exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  Kelly glanced at her older daughter’s face in the rearview mirror as she waited for t
he car in front of her to start moving out of the carpool line. “What do you think, Anna?”

  “Store-bought lasagna and cake, right?”

  “No, Miss Smarty Pants,” Kelly said trying to sound lighthearted, “from scratch. Well, except the noodles are from a box and I will use a cake mix. But I’ll add egg and oil and stuff to the cake mix and I’ll make the icing with real butter and cocoa and stuff.”

  “So, what, you are like our mom now?” Anna shot back at her.

  For the briefest of moments, Kelly felt anger well up in her and she wanted to punish her surly and disrespectful daughter. But she remembered what Sally had told her, and she also remembered the stinging truth of Dan’s words. She took a deep breath and relaxed her white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

  “I’m sorry you are angry with me, Anna, but it does not give you the right to be mean to me or rude, okay? I am here and I love you and I am ready to talk about anything.”

  Anna looked out the car window as she spoke. “Well, it’s just that I don’t get it. You haven’t talked to us or done anything with us in a really long time. You’re always in your bed sleeping, or talking with that Sam guy. Dad, Gracie and I are, like, invisible.” A tear rolled down Anna’s cheek. “Now you are sitting here in carpool trying to look like every other mom. And, you’re baking from scratch? I mean, that’s something you never did, even before the, uhm, before you changed.”

  “Mommy,” Grace interrupted, “carpool is moving.”

  Kelly looked up and noticed that the cars in front of her had left, and she was blocking a long line of parents in their cars waiting to move forward and collect their children. She knew that they dared not honk at her, the one that they all watched and wondered about. She put her foot on the accelerator and started moving slowly down the road. She gathered her thoughts. “Girls, I want you to listen to me carefully and not interrupt for a moment. Can you do that?”