by Anne, Betsy
“Do you have any idea how hard, I mean difficult that is?”
“Yes, Wick, I do. I’m attracted to you as well, remember? We can do this. I know we can. I can help you sort through some of your problems. I know a little about your history. I counseled your father a few months back. I won’t disclose what we discussed, but I’m no longer seeing him. Want to go to my place?”
I’m stunned. My dad went to a shrink? He must be in more pain than I realized, which makes me feel even worse.
“Yeah, please. Thank you, Pam.”
Her place looks considerably different in the daytime. At night it was warm and sensuous, but now it’s bright and airy. That helps; I was worried I’d have a boner walking in and remembering that night. She sees right through me.
“It’s OK, Wick, to remember I mean. It’s only natural; we did have a good time. Have a seat, I’ll grab some muffins, I’m starving.”
“I’m not sure about this, Pam,”
“Wick, I enjoy helping people, it’s what I do. You’re in pain, and you need someone to talk to. I can’t see you in the office, but I can try to help. You guys mean a lot to me. My dad was a firefighter.”
“What? Where?”
“In Boston, where I grew up. He was killed in the line of duty. They were trying to put out a fire at a meth lab, and it exploded. Took out my dad and one of his best friends,” she sighs. “I was eleven. It was hard on me and my brothers. The only reason I made it through that time was by seeing a therapist. I knew then that’s what I wanted to do with my life. You guys have a hard job, and it tries the best of families. Add a tragedy, and it can be devastating.”
She tears off some muffin, but doesn’t eat it. She ponders it, rolls it around in her fingers, and drops it back to the plate.
“I suggested to your father that I’d like to do some counseling with your family all together, but I never saw him again. Have you spoken to him?”
She’s digging right in, going straight for the gut.
“No, but I think you already know that.” My words come out garbled, something is stuck in my throat.
* * *
I can’t seem to get enough. I feel guilty that I monopolize every minute of her day when she’s not working. The last few weeks have been the most educational of my life. I’ve never had a friend who I could speak to about such emotions. I was never close enough to women, and my brother was my go-to for everything. She’s been pushing me to contact my family. I gave up trying months ago, thinking that if they were ready they’d come to me.
“It’s time, Wick. You know deep in your heart they want to see you, and you them.”
Monday morning, I decide today is the day. I’m not going to call, I’m going to the house. I’ve missed my family so much, and I can’t live with the pain for one more day. I’m grateful for Pam pushing me as much as she has.
My body starts to shake as I turn down our street. I see Dad’s pickup, and my mom’s Buick in the driveway. There’s a sleek BMW out front, really out of place in this neighborhood. I pull behind Mom’s car in the driveway, and I wait. I crane my neck to peer in the windows, and I see Dad walk by. C’mon, Wick. You can do this.
My legs feel like jelly as I walk the short path to the front door. I don’t think I’ve ever rung the doorbell of this house in my life. I press the small plastic button and wait. I hear voices, probably arguing over who will get the door. It swings wide, and I’m face to face with my mother. She screams and throws her arms around my neck.
“Wick’em! Dear Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”
I start to cry, involuntarily. I’ve missed her like breath in my lungs. She pulls me by the hug into the house. I look over her little shoulder, and see Dad and Lachlan staring at me, both white as a sheet.
“Hamish! Get over here. It’s our boy!”
Dad walks toward me with shoes made of lead.
“’Ello, son.”
He grabs me while my mom’s death grip is still in place. He just about squeezes the life out of her, as he wraps his arms around both of us and tightens.
I never understood the story of the prodigal son when I was younger. I thought it was bullshit that the spoiled son came back home and the dad makes a feast to welcome him home, as the other brother got nothing. I see it now. I’ve had my suffering and learned the lesson, but there’s the brother, looking at me, who I can’t ignore.
You expect parents can forgive you for your wrong doing, but a sibling you could lose for life. Looking at Lachlan now, I have no idea what he’s thinking. One thing that made him such a great pitcher was his poker face; there was no way to tell what was coming next. Mom and Dad break away from me, so that I can approach him.
His arm is still in a sling, and I can see pins sticking out along the side of his upper arm. Tears begin to flow again, and I grasp him as hard as I can.
“I’m so sorry, Lach! I never meant to hurt you, I love you!”
I feel his warm arm surround me, and he pats my back. I collapse with relief and joy.
We talk for hours, and Lach and I spend the night. Mom can’t stop crying. He gives me a chance to tell my story, and what’s gone on in my life since, which isn’t much. He is finishing his undergraduate degree in December, and then he plans to take the LSAT for law school. He’s even started to see someone. She’s a physical therapist assistant at the practice where he goes for rehab. He jokes that he’s not ever going to ask me to follow her, and the arrow strikes hard through my chest.
“As God as me witness, Lach. I’ll never hurt you again.”
“I know, Wick, I know. Lauren cheated on me before you. I was lying to myself thinking that she would change once we were married.”
“I was so drunk, Lach, that’s not an excuse, I know, but…”
“It’s done, Wick. Thank you for coming home.”
Dad admits that he’s been keeping tabs on me through friends.
“I must be honest, Wick’em. The men in your station have picked up word of all this somehow. Can’t imagine who’d spread such filth, but they know,” he says, looking down, knowing what it means.
It explains the attitude of everyone at the station lately. I can’t go back there; all my progress with Pam will go down the drain if I’m around that negativity. Dad is close with a chief up on North Shore, and thinks he can get me in. It’s a small town, and no one at the station will know about me or my reputation.
Chapter 16
Pam is happy with the progress I’ve made. Reconciling with my family has removed much of my stress. Even though I want to work on the trust between us as individuals, I know we can all move forward.
“You know I’m proud of you, Wick. You’ve shown a great deal of strength facing your problems head on, and look where it’s gotten you. You have a new job, a new home, and a relationship with your family again. But…” she waits, as if she wants me to finish the sentence.
“What? Spit it out, Pam, don’t start beating around the bush now.”
“Your sex life, Wick, and your emotional well-being, too. How have you been handling your sex drive?”
Oh. I had no idea that’s where she was going with this.
“Are you still feeling guilty when you have sex?”
I stay quiet.
“Come on, open up to me. This is your biggest hang-up, Wick, and it’s at the root of your problems in your life. Why bother healing your relationships if you’re not going to address the reason they were broken to begin with? Don’t you want a loving relationship in your life someday?”
“I haven’t had sex since you and I were together. I’m afraid to. It was good with you, but then I felt a lot of guilt that I had ruined so many lives with sex. I’ve done some pretty cruel things to some nice people by only listening to my dick. I only masturbate once or twice a day now.” Her mouth drops open.
“Does that seem functional to you? Do you do it for tension release, or are you sexually aroused all day long?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever separat
ed the two. Yes, I’m horny all day. I notice every gorgeous female body, and it stays with me until I can relieve myself. I feel like having sex all day, everyday. I thought all men did.”
“Not like this. You have to learn how to say no to your urges sometimes. That’s what maturity is all about. Remember when we had sex, the slow measured pace? It was nice, wasn’t it? You need to learn how to control your sexual impulses. If you can do that, you might be able to progress to a loving relationship with a woman. That won’t happen until you get some control.
“I have a friend who can help you. You and I have grown close, Wick, so you know how alike we are. I’ve had the same struggles as you when it comes to a healthy sex drive. I’m learning to control my body and my mind to feel a deeper connection, sexually. Would you be willing to meet my friend with me?”
If that’s what she taught, then by all means.
“Yeah, I’d meet her. Do we do this in a bedroom? Do we have sex with her?”
She laughs, and shakes her head.
“Oh, Wick. Meet me here Saturday morning. We’ll get started.”
* * *
“Uh, no, Pam. Not happening.”
She and I go to a yoga studio in her neighborhood. When we walk in, the only person here is a guy. In Spandex. To complete the picture, he’s doing a headstand.
“Get your ass in here. He won’t bite,” she laughs, and pulls me into the studio.
He sees us, and rights himself for introductions.
“Hello, Pam. Is this Wickham, I assume?” He reaches out his hand, and I reluctantly take it. “I’m Eric. Very nice to meet you.”
My head is swimming; I have no idea what’s about to happen.
“Wick, Eric is a Kundalini Yoga practitioner,” she says as if that announcement means anything to me. She sees the less than impressed look on my face, so she continues: “I’ve been studying with him for the last two years. It’s allowed me to become focused, and mindful of my body and my sexuality.”
OK, she lost me. I’m not having a three-way with her and Eric-the-yoga-man. My body language gives me away, since I’m all but backing up and running like hell out of this place. I don’t even want to discuss this in front of the dude, let alone, have him “help” me, when I don’t need any help. I’ve never had difficulty in that department, and if it ain’t broke…
“I know what you’re thinking, Wick, and it’s not like that. Other than talking about it, nothing sexual will happen in here. It’s about learning how to control your body and mind so that you can connect with the rest of the world in a deeper manner, both emotionally and physically. You’re a wreck, Wick,” Pam says, sounding frustrated with me. “Wouldn’t you like to have a relationship with someone, something other than a few empty hours at a time? We’ve discussed this. I know you’re ready to move on: Trust me, this will help if you commit to it. Are you willing to at least try? For me?”
Shit. I can’t say no to her. She been a lifesaver to me, and I still don’t really know why. She’s a wonderful person, and the best listener I’ve ever met. We’ve connected on a higher level than I have with anyone in my life. I could never talk to anyone in my family about my sexual guilt. She sees right through my bullshit, and calls me out to own it.
I know I’m too old to be living the one-night-stand lifestyle, anymore. After I made the worst decision in my life, sleeping with Lauren, the little voice in my head won’t shut the hell up. I do want something deeper with someone. Only recently have I paid attention to the other people in my life and my relationship with them. Where I used to only see the downside of having a girlfriend or wife, I now feel slight pangs of jealousy that I may not ever have that one person with whom to share my life. I can’t imagine what someone else might see in me, that would cause her to want to have a relationship. Sex has been the only way I’ve ever known to connect with women, and that connection only lasts until orgasm.
I do need help.
“OK, OK. I give. But, the second this gets weird, I’m out of here.”
She laughs at me, and we join Eric in the small studio down the hall.
Eric is sitting on a thin mat with his legs crossed. My build doesn’t allow for that type of flexibility. I probably look like I’m in pain, because I am, when I try to sit down in that position. If we have to stay like this longer than two minutes, my legs are going to fall asleep, and I’ll look like a newborn calf trying to stand for the first time when I try to get up.
“Pam has given me a brief synopsis about why you’re here, Wickham. Would you like her to leave and we can talk privately?”
“No, it’s ok. She’s knows me better than I know myself, apparently, so I’m good.”
She rolls her eyes.
“I met Pam here during a beginner yoga class she was taking with a friend. I could tell she wasn’t really interested in being here,” he smiles over at her, “and she was flirting with the men, and wasn’t really pay much attention to the instruction. After class was over, I asked her to stay for a moment. She took this to mean I wanted to have sex with her. She propositioned me as soon as the studio emptied. Sex was emanating from her pores.”
“Nice. I’ll bet it was a great thing to see,” I say to her, wiggling my eyebrows.
They don’t like the joke.
“I was a slut, Wick. My life was a mess. I was giving so much of emotional effort to patients all day, that I had no desire to get close to a man. I wanted no-holds-barred sex, but it wasn’t helping me be fulfilled in my personal life, and it was hurting. I felt used and empty, and even more emotionally exhausted afterward. I was trying to connect, but in a really screwed up way. As a therapist, I need to be mindful about what I say and how I behave, and I was living on autopilot. Eric saw that in me, and has been the catalyst that is changing my life. I saw the same in you because I know how to read the subtle cues. I saw myself in you.”
Ouch.
I silently nod my head, and stare at my feet. Shame and guilt are new emotions for me, and since Lauren, and it’s made me reflect on my life. If you believe in fate or destiny, which I’m beginning to, then I have to believe she was put in my life for a reason, just like Eric was for her.
“Well, that’s pretty much my story, too. I started having sex at a young age, and loved it,” I say with a smile, “but these girls would hang all over me, and it was annoying as hell. I learned quickly that if I cut them off fast, it made my life so much easier. Sure they would be mad as hell, but they would eventually get over it. So I thought. Some don’t and they try to make your life hell. That’s what cemented the fact that I didn’t want relationships, too much drama.
“My brother, Lachlan, loved to have girlfriends–someone to cheer him on at the games, and be there whenever he called. I don’t think he lost his virginity until college, and that would have been with Lauren,” I don’t think twice when I say it, but as I hear it come out of my mouth, I feel like I’m being stabbed in the heart. Poor Lach.
“Anyway, that’s how I ran my life until I fucked up and screwed my brother’s fiancé the week before their wedding.” I stare down, again feeling the shame. “That fucked up my life pretty good, and I haven’t been the same since. Pam has helped me see that I use sex as a block for any kind of real relationship. My fucking around almost killed me brother, and it changed me life. I carry that guilt around, and I can’t seem to let myself to have true pleasure because of it. I feel like I don’t deserve it. When Pam and I met at the bar, it was the first time I’d had sex since all that shit went down, and it was good. Really good.” I see her blush. “But the next day I felt sick. Why should I still be able to fuck around while I wasn’t speaking to me injured brother, it felt wrong.”
Thanks to Pam, that’s the first time I’ve said all of that aloud, altogether, and it hits me like a punch in the face. How could I have been so fucked up for so long, and turn a blind eye to it? In the past I would never have opened up about anything, let alone something this personal, to anyone, including my brother.
>
Eric nods, and I sense that he knows my story only too well. He’s lived the same life at some point. You can tell when someone feels sorry for you, or if they empathize with you and have been in your shoes. So here we sit. Three fucked up people, well, one and two who were, trying to make our lives better. It feels pretty damned good.
“All right, Wick. Take all of that, and mentally ball it up and throw it in the trash. It’s over and nothing can be done to change the past. You have to reflect on it, feel it, and move on. No more beating yourself up about it. Use that energy to focus on what you need to move forward, and stop putting yourself in reverse.” It rolls off his tongue is a sincere, but practiced, manner.
Simple words, yet powerful. Feel it, then forget it. Also, easier said than done.
“I get that, but I feel like if I forget, then I’ll make the same mistakes again. I’ve put myself through hell, rightfully, over what I did and if I fuck up again I don’t think I can handle it.”
“That’s why you’re here; it’s a step in the right direction. Focus on the good that could be done with all that negative energy being channeled in the right direction,” Pam says as she pats my barely bent, shaking knee.
“I probably could have solved world hunger by now,” I say.
“Well, maybe a bit of a stretch. How about we focus on solving the puzzle that is Wick?” she smiles warmly at me.
“OK, I’m ready.”
* * *
Eric explains that all we’re going to do today is breathe. I could have stayed home for this part. I know how to breathe.
“It’s a special type of mindful breathing, known as ‘yoga breathing’ or ‘Pranayama,’ which means to extend the life force. You will learn to breathe mindfully, and with intention,” Eric says, taking a deep inhale through his nose.
“Not with the intention to stay alive?” I joke, to a lukewarm response.
“The breath controls life, and we must learn how to control it in order to move on with our practice. Once you’ve mastered how to breathe, you can move forward.”
I keep all the sarcastic remarks I’m thinking to myself this time. If the guy wants to teach me how to breathe, I should be kind enough to let him.
