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Part Nineteen
June 22, 2010
Therapy
Tuesday I had to walk to therapy because both my parents were at work, and I didn't drive. It was too close for the bus. Plus, that would cost me money. That afternoon, I trudged downstairs with my purse in tow. At the front door, I put on my runners and slipped into my jacket. It was drizzling outside but still warm. I slung my purse over my shoulder and opened the front door only to be greeted by none other than Trace, as he was about to ring the doorbell.
Great timing, I thought sarcastically. I hadn't spoken to him since the catastrophe on Saturday.
I was unbelievably embarrassed and ashamed. He would look at me differently and would never want to see me again, I was sure of it.
But there he was, standing in front of me, looking as handsome as ever. But he did look distraught. That, I was absolutely positive.
"Hi Katie," he greeted me.
I mumbled a "hello" then closed and locked the front door. I brushed passed him without making eye contact. "It's kind of a bad time," I told him, as I walked quickly down the driveway. "I have to go to therapy."
Following me, he grabbed my shoulder when he reached me, saying, "Let me walk you there."
I stared at his hand then shrugged it off, and he retracted like he didn't realize at first that the contact was a bad move. He mumbled a "sorry" and I stared straight ahead as he walked beside me along the sidewalk.
"I guess so," I said.
He smiled timidly, "Alright. Thanks."
We walked in silence for a few minutes, until I gave in and said, "I'm really sorry about Saturday. I was an idiot and I'm so embarrassed."
He stopped walking abruptly and I followed, "No Katie, there's no reason for you to be embarrassed. I understand. I shouldn't have pushed you."
I shook my head, "You don't understand. Don't say you do."
"Okay, I don't completely understand, but I can imagine how you're feeling," he said.
I shrugged and started walking again, "And you didn't push me at all. It was all me. I don't know what came over me," I hung my head in shame. I shrugged and said again, "I'm sorry."
He took my hand, "It's fine, Katie." I put my head on his shoulder again.
Before I knew it, we had reached the building. We approached and I saw a boy come out the front doors. He had long, dark, brunette hair. He looked tall and skinny but with some muscles on him, and was maybe about 17 or 18.
When he left the building, he was staring down at the ground, but when he looked up and saw me, his face lit up in a gorgeous smile that showed off his polished white teeth. "Katie?" He said, as he turned and started walking towards Trace and I as we made our way to the front door.
"Hello?" I greeted, questioningly. When he got closer, I started to recognize him and realized I'd met him before, but I couldn't remember how or when.
When we reached each other, he stood in front of us, saying, "Hey," with a small grin on his face. When he saw the confusion on my face, he pouted and said, "You don't remember me, do you?"
"Vaguely," I answered.
"I'm Jackson," he held out his hand for me to shake and I took it, "We met in the waiting room on your first day of therapy." He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, with a pleading look on his face, like he was hoping that I would remember. And I did.
We had had a brief, but nice conversation. He didn't ask me why I was in therapy and for that, I was thankful. We talked about everyday things like music and school. I didn't remember him because that day I was acting extremely shy and wouldn't look him in the eyes. Which, I now saw were a dark chocolate brown. Everything about him screamed dark and mysterious.
"Right, of course," I responded, smiling and nodding, "I apologize for my poor memory."
Trace simply stood beside me, watching this interaction with a discerning and critical look on his face. Jackson shrugged, "It's fine," smiling, he said, "I'm glad I ran into you again." At this, I blushed slightly. "How are you?"
My shrug followed suit, "Been better." Trace nudged me in the side with his elbow then, "But uh-I gotta get in there."
Jackson nodded, "Alright. Is there any way I can get in contact with you?"
At this, Trace eyeballed Jackson suspiciously, "Um, yeah," I answered, cautiously. "I'm in the phone book," I told him, "Under D, Morris."
He smiled, "Thanks," then walked passed us, speed walking. He waved, "Bye Katie. Good to see you."
I waved back and said, "You too."
After he was out of earshot, Trace and I turned back to the door, and I gave him a bewildered look, saying, "Well, that was interesting and unexpected."
"Understatement of the century," he mumbled. "Why didn't you introduce me."
"I dunno," I told him. I honestly didn't. Would it be horrible for me to say I had forgotten he was even there? Jackson didn't seem to notice Trace either. Almost like he was invisible. But he wasn't.
Trace turned away from me abruptly and started walking backwards, facing me, "Whatever Katie. I'll see you later."
He turned away and hung his head down, speed walking away just like Jackson had, only Jackson hadn't looked so distressed like Trace did. "Trace!" I called.
He ignored me and kept walking. I sighed, looking at the time on my phone. I was 5 minutes late. "Crap," I mumbled. I reached for the door handle and stepped inside.
Dr. Pierce had me come in almost immediately. When I got there she said it was fine that I came when I did, because they were running behind with things anyway.
When I sat down on her couch, just like all the other times, it felt different. Maybe because this time I was more comfortable. Or maybe because I knew what was in store after the experience of my last session.
"How was your weekend?" She asked me.
I thought about this for a moment. "Kind of all over the place," I told her.
She asked, "How do you mean?"
"Well..." I crossed my legs absentmindedly. "Friday night I couldn't sleep because of my nightmares, so I went downstairs and found my dad in the kitchen. And I ended up talking to him about...what happened."
"Oh, did you?"
I nodded, "Yeah. And that was really hard and everything, but good at the same time, because I feel like we got some closure."
Dr. Pierce nodded encouragingly, then said, "You mentioned nightmares. Are they recurring?"
"Um...yes," I wasn't really comfortable with the topic.
"What happens in it?"
"Well..." I paused, unsure if I wanted to continue.
"Go on," she pushed, giving me a small smile.
I began, "At the beginning of the dream I'm in a long corridor and I'm alone. But then I hear a noise behind me and I turn around and there's no one there. But I feel like there is. And then I see a shadow and I start to run. The shadow is following me and I know that it's Steve, but I can't see him. He's following me, and getting closer, but then I realize that I'm trying to run but I'm moving in slow motion," I stopped to catch my breath.
"Is that all?" She questioned.
I shook my head, "I can see a light at the end of the corridor, and it takes me a long time to reach it, because I'm moving so slowly. When I finally do, I step into the light, and then I'm suddenly back in my parents bedroom, with Steve on top of me. I'm screaming, and it's echoing but no one can hear me. And then the walls start closing in, and I feel claustrophobic. I always wake up in a panic, like I can't breathe," I stopped, taking in a breath. "It makes me afraid to go to sleep."
"You know that the dream is not real," she told me, "and Steve is gone and he's never coming back."
"I know...but-"
Dr. Pierce saw my distress, and cut-in, "Let's move on. You were talking about your weekend."
"Right... well, I slept fine after I talked to my dad. Because I was so tired, and I guess because I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders," I said, "And then on Saturday, I walked over to Trace's house and saw him in the backyard." This peeked Dr. Pierces' interest, for whatever reason I didn't know. "He was sitting on the porch swing, and I sat down beside him. We talked for a bit, and then we started to..." I stopped, blushing when I started thinking about it.
"You started to what?" Dr. Pierce asked me.
"We started to...um...make-out, I guess. The thing is, it got too intense too fast, and I started thinking about when Steve...raped me, and I freaked out and ran off," I hung my head, scared to look at Dr. Pierce. I was afraid that she would look at me disapprovingly, like I felt about myself. "I was really embarrassed and just...I don't know."
"Katie, what you went through with Steve was not your fault. And after what he did to you, it's normal to have this kind of affect on you. I'm sure Trace understands that and he would not judge you," she told me.
I nodded, not saying anything. After that, I changed the subject and told her about what happened with Trace and Jackson outside. She didn't have much to say about that, just hinted that maybe he was hurt and probably a little jealous, which was normal.
We then moved on to my birthday, and recalling the events. First, I summarized for her everything that I told my dad about.
"It must have been hard, finding out about Sabrina like that," she inferred.
A lump formed in my throat then and I could only manage to say, "Yes."
"Do you think that it's unfair that she died and you didn't? That you got a change to live when she did not?"
These questions startled me, and I found myself unable to answer them. It was like she was reading my mind. But I guess that was kind of her job. "Alright, Katie, let's forget about that for now. Are you ready to move on further with your story?" She asked and I nodded, "What comes next?"
I crossed my legs in the opposite direction, and took off my sweater. I grabbed some Kleenex, which I would undoubtedly need. After I was comfortable, I responded, "Next, I need to tell you about my parents again."
Dr. Pierce nodded, saying, "Alright."
And then I continued recalling the events of the worst experience I'd ever been through.
No passion so effectually robs the mind of all it's powers of acting and reasoning as fear.
-Edmond Burke