by DM Sharp
“Yeah, don’t freak out. You’re so beautiful, you know that right?”
Something doesn’t feel right at all and there’s a growing feeling of dread at the pit of my stomach.
“What have you done, Gillian?”
“You love him, don’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I see you both together. He loves you, too, you know, but he’ll never admit it. Not unless he wants his ass sued and that’s not to mention how crazy his dad would be—and he would never do anything to upset his dad.”
“Please, what’s wrong?” My heart is starting to beat wildly. I care about Gillian. I care about them all and the thought of anything happening to anyone scares the hell out of me.
“I love him too, but he doesn’t even notice me. He looks just like Justin Timberlake, you know.” Her words are starting to slur and she’s swaying.
I’m screaming now. “Gillian what have you done?” I follow her eyes and see a sliver of glass glinting in the red sand in the sunlight.
I pull both of her sleeves up, crying and hyperventilating, but don’t find anything apart from old straight lines in criss-cross patterns.
“Where?” I cry, as I shake her shoulders and follow her gaze as it drops to her right thigh. I put my hand on her right thigh, feeling a wet patch that is well disguised by her navy shorts. I lift my hand up to see bright red all over my palm and all I hear is screaming coming from my mouth as Gillian collapses in my arms.
*
I think I’ve done that thing again that Gabriel calls dissociation. It’s like watching a movie scene unravel in front of me, but I’m not actually here. I can’t feel anything.
The deafening whump-whump of the helicopter’s blades, as it spirals down from the shimmering sky to alight behind a nearby ridge, doesn’t even make me blink. I just stare blankly ahead as Shirley’s disembodied voice yells down a walkie-talkie, “Gillian is down. We can’t get a pulse.”
Gabriel’s been trying to do CPR on her for about the last forty minutes while waiting for the air ambulance. He’s covered in blood from the deep gashes across her stomach and thighs. Her lifeless, limp body lies on the red sand. Dr. Carmichael is pacing back and forth shouting down a phone, tears streaming down his face.
My mind drifts back to the first day I met them all when we decided what animal or insect we wanted to be. I close my eyes as I hear Dr. Nate’s gravelly voice saying, “Good work, Gillian. Tiny leafcutter ants can lift and carry in their jaws something 50 times their own body weight of about two ounces. That’s the same as a human lifting a truck with its teeth. Nice choice.”
My leafcutter ant friend is dead.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Gabriel Carmichael
Dad’s breathing is fast and he’s grinding his teeth.
“Jesus, Gabriel. Have you learned nothing as a doctor?”
I don’t say anything because I know he’s actually too livid to understand.
“How can you even mention the word love? It’s simple transference. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Dad, this is not transference.”
He walks right up to me, his eyes blazing the way they do when he’s frustrated and scared. “Okay, you are clearly not thinking at the moment and I get that. Right. We’ve lost one of our own and we are all very upset. You’re obviously traumatized by what happened with Gillian. I get that.”
I pull my hand through my hair before rubbing at my temples and look directly at him. “Olivia Carter is traumatized, Dad, they all are.”
“I want a definition of what transference actually is, Gabriel. Do you even know? You’ve probably never experienced it as a surgeon.”
He’s trying sarcasm.
“Listen Dad, lets talk tomorrow.”
“You are not going anywhere, Son. I’ll explain exactly what’s happened here. Like I said it’s simple transference. Yes. It develops because of a lack of love, nurture, support, empathy, and acceptance in one’s childhood. That fits perfectly for Olivia.”
“You aren’t listening, Dad. I cannot try and picture never seeing and speaking to her again.”
“Son, please, listen to me, okay? During transference, people turn into a biological time machine. A nerve is struck when someone offers, in the present, what was never offered in their childhood. This creates an emotional time warp that transfers their emotional past and their psychological needs into the present. You try and fix people, Gabriel, but this will not fix Olivia.”
“Yes, but it’s helped fix me.”
“What? Gabriel, you’re still grieving for Sophie and you’re so vulnerable.”
“Oh God, what have I done?”
“What d’you mean? What have you got to do with it? Don’t dare make this all about you.”
“I’m the one who pulled you in here. I thought the wilderness therapy would help you, too, but I’ve obviously made a big mistake.”
“Dad, just calm down, okay. You haven’t made any mistakes.You have no idea how much it’s helped me out here, helping these kids.”
“Kids, you said it, Gabriel. That’s what Olivia is.”
“She’s going to be 18 in a few months.”
Dad walks over to the fridge, gets two beers out and opens them both. He hands me one and gulps down about half the bottle before trying to smile nervously at me. Here we go, round two.
“Son, you loved Sophie with every cell in your body. The car accident. It’s like rebound.”
“Dad, the last conversation I had with Sophie before she died was her asking me to spend more time with her and not my friends. I told her that she was suffocating me and that I wanted to end it. I felt relief after she was gone.”
“And Olivia?”
“Olivia, it’s like she’s my air. I don’t just love her, I need her and without her, my life seems worthless. She’s the reason I wake up every morning.”
My father looks like he’s going to swallow his tongue and I feel a sharp pain in my chest as his eyes well up with tears. Frustration? Fear perhaps?
“Gabriel. Let me remind you of the Hippocratic Oath that you took when you decided to become a doctor, not to mention professional and ethical boundaries that you seem to have just forgotten and breached.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I …”
“Sorry? First you smash up a theater after surgery because it doesn’t go your way and we manage to let you get away without the hospital pressing any charges because I persuaded them you were grieving. I gave you this job. Me.”
He cuts me off and his eyes have an angry glint in them, “You’ve left me with no option. Your work here at Cedars is terminated and I suggest that you leave in the morning. Get some space, whatever. Just, please sort your head out.” He walks out slamming the door behind him, beer in hand.
I walk out to the porch and sit on a chair watching the sky, recalling the conversation with Olivia that sparked all this a few days ago, after Gillian had died.
Olivia: “I’m really afraid to tell you what I am thinking …”
Me: “It’s okay, take a risk …”
Olivia: “I’m afraid of how you will react.”
Me: “That’s a common fear, but how I react is out of your hands. Worry about you and how this will help you.”
Olivia: (very long pause) “… I sometimes feel that I am in love with you.”
Me: (no pause or negative reactions) “I thought there may have been some feelings, but I knew you would bring it up when you felt ready.”
Olivia: (quiet and obviously expecting more on what I had just said)
Me: “There is nothing shameful in that and I’m flattered you have such strong feelings for me and have made me such an important part of your life.”
Olivia: “I know you feel the same about me. I can feel it Gabriel.”
Me: “I’m giving you all the things in the present that you needed as a child, which is fueling your attachment to me. In addition, I’m also giving you the support and a
cceptance that you needed as an adult—this can lead you to be completely overwhelmed in your feelings for me. It’s not love, Olivia.”
Olivia: (says nothing but blinks slowly, large tears falling from under her eyelashes.)
It takes everything I have inside of me to stop myself from grabbing her and pulling her in close to me.
Me: “Transference is part of your healing process in that, eventually, you will be able to take the behavior I modeled for you, as well as your feelings for me, and expand it to your everyday life.”
Olivia: “I shouldn’t have said anything. You probably think I’m a complete fool.”
What I want to say is that you are no fool, Olivia, that I know how you feel because I feel exactly the same, if not more.
Me: “The therapeutic relationship is very strong and symbolic and is used to mend the past while building a bridge to the future. Going through transference, however, can be painful, humiliating, and uplifting all in one.”
I think that’s what it said in one of the textbooks, anyway.
Olivia: “Is it because I’m a freak?”
Me: “Your feelings are not abnormal and there is nothing wrong with you for feeling them. How could you not have feelings for someone who is always there for you? Who supports you? And who shows you acceptance, empathy, and compassion? Your psyche and emotions are only reacting to the things you never received as a child and still desire as an adult. You are most definitely not a freak, whatever that is.”
Olivia: “You’re like a cold robot.”
In a split second, as fast as her legs can run, small clouds of dust blocking my view, my little dung beetle is gone.
Guilt descends on me, like a black cloud of gloom, at the thought of leaving her. She’ll never forgive me and I’ll join the group of people that have hurt her, but I have no choice. I have to walk away like Dad says. I feel like a complete failure and it burns. I put my head into my hands and sob.
Chapter Thirty
Olivia Carter
I watch my distinguished-looking uncle’s face and eyes light up as he greets me stepping off his private plane. I try to dismiss the guilty thoughts, as I recall slashing one of his leather seats when he had first sent me to Cedars, as I run straight into his arms.
“Dear God, my beautiful Olivia. Thank you, God.”
I look beyond his shoulder as he chokes up and see my Aunt Victoria standing by the limo, nervously waving at me.
“Let me have a look at you. You look just like your mother. I am so, so proud of you and what you’ve achieved. Welcome home, darling girl. We’ve missed you.”
My chest hurts and I try to swallow past the huge lump in my throat as I realize the purity of this real love that I have in my life. How could I have hurt the very people who saved me?
“I-I-I’m so very sorry for everything.”
“No, dear, dear child. No sorries. Everything is going to be all right now. Okay? A fresh start?”
I nod as we walk towards Aunt Victoria, my hand in Uncle Preston’s, the same way it was when I first arrived in Manhattan when I was twelve years old.
At that exact moment my fear of death was nine-and-a-half on a scale of one to ten and my fear of being back in Manhattan was nine-point-two on a scale of one to ten.
I still haven’t let go of Preston Carter’s hand as the black sedan snakes its way through Manhattan, my eyes hidden behind my black sunglasses and I notice that he keeps nervously patting it.
“What your aunt and I thought is that it would be good for you to have a change of scenery, somehere with a pool perhaps? We’ve got extensive repairs going on at the apartment, so how about your own suite at a hotel downtown?”
“Downtown?”
Aunt Victoria pipes up, “It’s actually the Meatpacking district. It’s called the Hotel Gansevoort and it’s got this gorgeous 45-foot rooftop pool that I could just picture you in the minute I saw it.”
I didn’t want to remind them that I had just come out of rehab and their plan to put me in a place where I would be surrounded by bars and clubs seemed a bit … stupid?
I just shrug my shoulders.
“I mean, we have a suite there, too, so you won’t be alone, but at the same time, you’ll have some independence?” Uncle Preston raises his eyebrows looking for some response.
“Sure. Sounds great,” I say, as I try to suppress a giggle at the idea of the Upper East Siders venturing out of their comfort zone into the jungle downtown.
“Great. That’s settled then. I can’t wait for you to see the pool.”
I just wanted to get back and get my iPad back so I could get in touch with the new friends I’d made at Cedars. They had supported me and pulled me out of the shell I’d crawled back into after Gabriel had said that he had to leave.
Memories of Miguel and Aaron teaching me how to play basketball ‘like a dude’ made me light up inside. The three of us had become inseparable after the Gillian incident, clinging to each other and forging bonds that I knew would weather all storms.
A sharp stab of pain just above my left breast jolts me as Gabriel flickers into my memory.
“I need you to sit down, Olivia. We’ve got to talk.” I remember how his eyes looked all bloodshot and there was sadness etched all over his face.
“Why are you wearing a suit, Gabriel?” I deliberately start playing with my hair because I’ve started noticing how he can’t keep his eyes off me when I do that.
He pats the chair in the tent and says tersely, “Come sit.”
“Do you remember when we were talking about a job that I had been offered and was considering whether to accept it or not?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you remember when I told you that I was only here for a short while and at some point was going to leave?”
“At some point.” My heart has started to flutter and my mouth has gone all dry.
“Well, that time has come, Olivia. I told you I was a surgeon, am a surgeon first and foremost and so I’m leaving to take up that job offer.”
He won’t look at me.
“Take a deep breathe. It’ll help, Olivia.”
Shallow breaths make me feel dizzy as I try to comprehend what he is saying. “Is it because I said that I thought I was falling in love with you?”
“Oh, Olivia, it’s not you.”
My eyes start filling up, as the familiar feeling that anything I love abandons me. I feel sick, “Really, Gabriel, then what is it?”
“Oh God, please don’t cry, Olivia.” He takes my face in his hands his thumbs wiping away my tears. I shut my eyes to lock in the memory of what it feels like.
“It’s me. You’ve done so great and come so, so far. We’re at the end of our therapeutic relationship. I can’t take you any further. You need another therapist now.”
“No, I don’t want anyone else. I need you.” I know he cares because his face is all twisted like he’s in pain and his bloodshot eyes are all watery.
“You don’t need me, Olivia. You don’t need anyone. You are the strongest, most beautiful person that I have ever met. You have inspired me and that is why I have to go.”
“Enough Gabriel,” spits out Dr. Nathanial Carmichael, who has suddenly appeared on the scene, making Gabiel jerk back, his hands dropping from my face.
“Olivia, I will be personally overseeing your therapy from now on,” says Dr. Nate, glaring angrily at Gabriel.
Gabriel stands up, wiping his sticky hands on his suit trousers.
“Say goodbye to Gabriel, Olivia.”
“No, please, don’t do this, don’t leave me.” I’m sobbing like I did when momma died and it’s the same pain.
“Dad, please. I need to …”
“Step back, now Gabriel. You’ve caused quite enough trouble. Go. NOW.”
Gabriel starts to walk away and I run after him, holding onto his back and he’s crying and Dr. Nathaniel Carmichael is pulling me off him and then Ryan and Neil, the friendly camp thugs have picked me up and ar
e carrying me away from Gabriel in the opposite direction. That’s the last time I saw him. I know he left because he felt the same about me.
The very last thing he said to me was that he was sorry as I screamed, “There is no word for sorry in Navajo,” before becoming overcome.
I swallow past the hurt in my throat, as Uncle Preston senses me tense up. “All okay, child?”
“I’m scared.”
“Oh darling, we are, too,” he says, as he continues to nervously pat my hand.
*
After we reach the hotel, I shower and then head straight up to the rooftop pool, which Preston has booked out for me all evening. As I lower myself gently into the water, I feel like a brick, so I quickly climb back out again and just sit at the poolside wrapped in a giant fluffy white towel, my feet dangling in the water.
No one had said it would feel so lonely when you get out of rehab. I feel lost without Aaron and Miguel, without my routine, without Dr. Nate’s gentle and kind encouragement. Part of me totally gets why people just keep bouncing back again. It’s because life on the outside is empty and lonely, but no, I correct my thinking as I wipe away a tear. The guys wouldn’t like to hear me talk like that and I promised Dr. Nate that I would try.
I throw the towel off my shoulders and lower myself into the water again, this time dipping my head right under. I walk for a bit in the shallow end before plunging in, imagining I’m trying to swim through a narrow tube without touching the sides.
I don’t know how many lengths I’ve done but when I stop and look up, Preston and Victoria are standing at the top of the pool clapping.
*
A few weeks have passed since I got back. I haven’t seen anyone from my old life, choosing instead to spend every waking second in the pool that Preston has practically bought for me because no one else ever comes up here. Otherwise I hang out in my suite, writing in my journal and listening to music.
I write in my journal that ‘Life is easy and peaceful and calm and it’s nice.’
I head up to the pool, my skin prickling in anticipation of feeling the water on my skin like a silken blanket and jump in without a second thought, but after a few minutes I can hear echoes of my name so I stick my head out of the water.
