The Right Treatment

by Tara Finnegan

  “Please text me as soon as you get this. Aoife.” She tried to block all sorts of panic images of Matt having been knocked down or injured out of her mind as she set off for her morning’s ‘voluntary’ work.

  Aoife was shocked when she entered the rehab. She was put shadowing Katie for the morning. Katie, a tough-looking but kindly thirty-something-year-old with a tight haircut and combats, was receptionist cum cleaner cum unofficial counsellor and most important, security woman. Although it was only nine-thirty, already there was a queue of people. One woman in particular broke Aoife’s heart. She was obviously pregnant, and trembling all over. When she came to register, she said it was her first visit and she was sent by her GP. She was signed up for the methadone program.

  Aoife wanted to be sick. Not from disgust at the patient, but from the realisation it could so easily have been her who had got into that mess. She had often lost all sense of responsibility, and the only thing that had prevented Aoife from trying heroin had been fear of needles. No matter how high she was, luckily for Aoife, that fear had prevailed. She had to hand it to Matt—he had just given her the wake-up call she so badly needed. Which reminded her, she still hadn’t heard from him. Once there was a lull in reception, Aoife checked her phone, which was on silent, and was alarmed to see no message from him.

  They shut the doors for the morning, heralding what was soon to be the end of her first day. Her final job before leaving was cleaning duty. When she entered the toilets, she was disgusted. Someone had vomited in one of the cubicles, missing the bowl entirely. In the next, a soiled sanitary napkin lay on the floor where the user had decided the disposal unit was there for decorative purposes only and the bowl was splattered with excrement. Gritting her teeth, Aoife went to the cleaning cupboard to get supplies. She pulled a big fat wad of toilet tissue off the roll and bent down to pick up the soiled wad. Katie shouted at her.

  “Stop! Don’t touch any bodily fluids without gloves. Many of the users share needles.”

  Aoife couldn’t believe how stupid she had just been. Sure she knew that, but her first reaction had just been to get rid of the disgusting mess. The reality of everything came crashing in and she broke down and sobbed her heart out. God knows why, but somehow or other, she was sitting on the floor, first crying about the mess she had got herself in, then spilling all the stuff she had kept locked up for years. Katie sat on the floor beside her and cradled her in her arms like a baby as she poured out what a disappointment she had been to her parents, how her dyspraxia, or clumsy child syndrome, meant she was always spilling or breaking stuff, and how she would be shouted at and berated for it. About how her parents made her rewrite each word she got wrong in her weekly school spelling tests, until she had managed to get each of them perfect twenty times in a row. And how hard that was, because she just couldn’t recognise letters like others could. About how her siblings had laughed at her and told tales to get her in trouble so they would be off the hook for that day. If Katie resented her entire lunch break being wasted in listening to twenty-five years’ worth of woe, she never for one second let it show as she comforted and listened to the broken Aoife acknowledge the wrongs she had buried so deep. The tap Dr. Smith had started dripping was now in full flow and there was no turning it off until the well had run dry. Even then Katie just held her, even after the tears and the talking had stopped.

  Aoife’s phone vibrating between them eventually broke the spell.

  Checking the text that had just come in, she sighed and stood.

  “Matt is waiting for me at the hospital. I’m dead late, and he’s not happy,” she told Katie.

  “I used to work with Matt. That’s why you’re here. He’s obviously very worried about you. You should tell him what you told me.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but please, let me tell him in my own good time.”

  “Why do you think I got this job? Keeping my gob shut goes with the territory.”

  Aoife tried to hold back the tears as she hugged Katie. She was quite confident she would stay silent. Her biggest worry was if she would be able to face Katie the next day. Normally, if she let anyone too close, gave them a glimpse of her private hell, she ran from them forevermore, amen.

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re late. I will deal with that later,” Matt said when Aoife arrived.

  She wanted to fight him, point out he hadn’t been home to see her to the rehab, but he looked haggard.

  “I’m sorry, can we talk about that later? You look like you had a rough morning. I was worried about you. How are you?”

  He physically slumped for a moment, and Aoife waited expectantly. Stupidly! Matt had long since stopped treating her like a friend. A brief flicker of the old Matt crossed his face, and she thought it beautiful, but after an ill-timed, involuntary blink on her part, it was gone.

  “We will talk about it later. I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to bring you to the clinic. There was an accident and I had to attend.”

  Aoife noticed he didn’t answer her question. She had deliberately framed it in a way he couldn’t just say yes or no so he dodged it. He didn’t ask her how she was either, but she was used to that. Day in day out, his inquiries were always the same: did you eat, did you exercise, did you shit? Never, ever how are you? What are you running from? Old Matt used to drive her insane—where did you get that bruise? Why were you crying? What are you afraid of? And when he wasn’t asking questions she was too ashamed to answer, he was going on and on about his own life. That was why she liked him so much. Aoife Devine was a disaster, but Matt McDaid had needed her and that made her feel good. Back then he had made her feel good, but not anymore.

  “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?” Aoife suggested. She went behind a screen and stripped off totally. She climbed on the examination table and covered her body, from boobs to thighs, with the crisp but worn white cotton sheet with faded blue thread trim that was neatly folded beside the pillow. All she could do to calm her nerves was remember that he was not the first man to see her naked, nor was she the first naked woman he had seen, especially for an examination. She expelled the memories of her shameful arousal from the enema and her confusion from the spanking. She was after all, Aoife Devine, mistress of denial.

  Aoife watched him line the stuff out on the stainless steel stand beside the examination table. A disposable, clear plastic speculum, a small little sachet of lubricant. Three bottles with cotton swabs. Why three? she wondered, accustomed to only one. Aoife tried not to notice the vacutainers and hypodermic needle; she had a thing about blood tests. She felt sick at the sight of them.

  “It’s not too late to have a gynaecologist do this,” he reminded her. She realised then her fear must be really showing. After all she had been through in the previous month, Aoife was becoming almost phobic of doctors and hospitals.

  “No!” she shouted, panic-stricken. “You promised, no strangers.”

  “It’s all right, I won’t force it. I just thought it would be better. Relax. Breathe.”

  “So, aside from sucking my blood, what has the head vampire in store for me?” she asked, hoping to distract her attention to anything but the needles. She couldn’t believe the terror that was coursing through her. After the previous month she thought she should be used to this, but it really just served to add to her trauma.

  “That depends,” he replied.

  “On?”

  “Your behaviour and your answers.”

  “I’ll behave nicely,” Aoife promised, focusing on the positive.

  “In which case I won’t have to spank you. What do you want first, bloods or exam?”

  “Bloods, if I know they are done with, I might fight less.” She looked away as he unsheathed the needle from its wrapper. Needles terrified her. Even when he extended her arm for the tourniquet, she stared steadfastly at the wall. She felt the prick of the needle going through her skin and stiffened. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared, but then it never was. Foolishly, Aoife looked
at what Matt was doing. When he switched vacutainers, a small drop of blood spurted from the needle in her arm and her brain went into overload. She felt perspiration rolling down her forehead and she held her breath.

  “Breathe in, Aoife,” Matt reminded her. She had a glimpse of the old Matt as his face creased with concern. After checking the vacutainer was secure, he took her face in his hand and moved her chin so she was looking at the wall rather than her arm. “Nearly done, this is the last one. Just keep breathing deep breaths,” he reassured softly. She momentarily felt the sting of the hypodermic needle again as he withdrew it and then he said:

  “You can look now, all over. I promise.” He released the band and gently wiped the little pinprick, before covering it with a piece of cotton wool and a Band-Aid.

  “I’m sorry, needle phobia. But at least it ruled out heroin,” Aoife said.

  “Thank heaven for small mercies,” Matt said wryly. “Are you okay to continue?”

  Fuck, was that a trick question or what? Dr. Hardass who had been relentless in keeping her in line was giving her an out. Aoife didn’t trust it for one second. She straightened up on the examination couch.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. May I please have a drink of water first?”

  Matt rolled over to his desk on his wheelie chair and lifted a bottle of water, one he had already used. The intimacy surprised her—after all, there was a water cooler and paper cups in the room.

  “The water here is horrible. This is much better,” he said as he handed her the bottle. Something about the gesture touched her. She really wanted to cry. What the hell was wrong with her? She had already broken down once that day. She blinked back the tears and took a long gulp of Matt’s water.

  “I’ll give you five minutes to calm down,” he volunteered, rising for the door.

  “Matt, sorry, Dr. McDaid,” Aoife started, panic-stricken, as he pressed on the door handle. He looked at her, not sternly at her address, but kindly. “Don’t leave me, please. Stay. I’ll be okay to continue in a moment.”

  “Five minutes,” he corrected, sitting back on the swivel chair. She knew it wasn’t a warning, but a breather, and she was immensely grateful. He rolled back to his desk though, as if her proximity would poison him.

  “Whose is this room?” Aoife asked idly as she lay there waiting for the five minutes to elapse.

  “Mine, as soon as I return from leave. I’ve moved up in the world.” Aoife could see the touch of pride about him, a slight flush in his cheeks.

  “Well done, you. I bet your parents are very proud of you, Matt.”

  Matt glared at her, letting her know her attempt at getting personal was not at all appreciated. After shuffling stern-faced through some paperwork, he checked his watch and rolled his chair over to her again. “Your five minutes are up.” God, he was so anal at times. She had crossed the intimacy line and he had to put her right back in her box. Matt picked up the plastic speculum and Aoife shuddered. Oh, how she hated that instrument. Being a woman was totally undignified at times. She didn’t know how any woman would willingly go through pregnancy and childbirth. Not with all the manhandling they had to go through. If she ever decided to have children, she was having an elective caesarean section under general anaesthetic. It had to be better than natural.

  Aoife braced herself for the invasion, sweat breaking out on her body. She felt her breathing becoming more laboured and her body tensed into a tight knot.

  “We’re not starting until you’re relaxed,” Matt said as he replaced the speculum on the table. “If you’re all uptight it will hurt you, and that’s the last thing I want.”

  Matt proceeded to fill in all the forms. Aoife did her best to calm down. She watched him as he concentrated on each section, silently scribbling, pausing to confirm her date of birth and national insurance number. His hands were big and surprisingly strong for someone who was not engaged in manual work. He seemed very assured as he went about his business. So very different to the shy, withdrawn teenager she had known. She didn’t know why it surprised her so much now in particular—after all, he certainly hadn’t been a shrinking violet since she was first admitted under his care. But in spite of being on the wrong side of it so much lately, she still liked his assurance. A lot. Matt stood again, and once again Aoife recoiled like a spring, eyes fixed on the speculum like a terrified rabbit stares into the headlights of the oncoming car.

  “Okay,” Matt said, with a sigh. “We’re going to have to try this a little differently. Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

  “That depends. Are you going to spank me?”

  “No, I give you my word that I won’t spank. But I would like to cover your eyes. When you watch what is coming you get hysterical. If you can’t see, but let me talk you through it, I think it will be easier. Do you think you could try that?”

  Aoife thought about it for a moment, then hesitantly nodded her head. “Promise you won’t hit me, no matter what?”

  “Promise.” His eyes flitted around the room and came to rest on her neatly folded bundle of clothes. He lifted her navy blouse from the pile, then rolled it up and placed it over her eyes.

  “Lift your head,” Matt said, and when she had complied, he used the sleeves to tie it around her head, securing it in place. “Okay, not too tight?” he asked.

  “It’s fine,” she replied, but the sound that came out was no more than a tremulous whisper. She felt his hands on her shoulders, kneading away the knots of anxiety. She tried to emulate the sounds of his even breathing to force her body to behave.

  “Good girl,” Matt praised. “Have you had a breast examination recently?”

  Aoife shook her head, not trusting her voice.

  “Okay, we’ll start with that. It’s not so bad, nothing invasive. Place your right arm under your head.” His hands felt cool as they worked in small circles, gentle but firm, efficient motions, starting on the outside, working their way in.

  “Switch arms,” he instructed, examining her other breast in the same way. It felt good, in a strange way. Deprived of sight, Aoife was all the more sensitive to touch and too soon that part was over and her breasts were pronounced “fine.”

  “Thanks, doc.” she couldn’t help but say with a little giggle. He rewarded her with a light slap on her thigh, teasing rather than painful.

  “Hey, you promised, no spanking,” she said with a pout.

  “Sorry. I forgot.” He stopped touching her, and she heard the sound of the speculum scratch against the table as he lifted it. She forced herself to focus on her breathing as she heard a squidgy sound of lubrication spurting out of a sachet as she pulled her legs back up and widened them without being told, desperately trying to contain the shivering and trembling in her uncooperative limbs.

  The first thing she felt was his hand on her thigh, softly massaging the trembles away. Then the other thigh. His hands were warm and reassuring and Aoife concentrated on the pleasant sensation, driving the reason for it as far from her brain as she could. His hand came so close to her secret place on a number of occasions and a sweet yearning began to build as she arched into his touch.

  “Good girl, that’s it,” Matt reassured. “I’m going to start now. It may be a little uncomfortable because I have to take a look at your cervix, but if it gets too much, just tell me and we’ll stop for a moment. Keep focusing on that nice sensation. Try to hold it.” His hands rubbed her inner thighs again, coming oh so deliciously close. Gently he placed her legs in stirrups, first one, then the other. She knew she was aroused. And knew he knew it too. The giveaway moistness was surely visible as he pressed her knees even farther apart. She felt the cold of the plastic as he inserted it.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked. She could hear the concern in his voice.

  “Okay, so far. It’s not too bad.” She knew he was doing his best to be gentle. He twisted the speculum, getting it in more and she winced with discomfort. She tried to focus on his voice and his scent rather than cold, hard, disposa
ble plastic. Aoife tried to tell her body it was for pleasure rather than medicine; that he wanted to do these things to her. Anything to help lose the shame of her next door neighbour and virginity refuser poking about in her private bits. She even almost managed to get carried away in the moment, feeling her body giving itself to him in the strangest of ways. She would never look forward to smears, but if Matt McDaid was at the helm, she just might get used to them.

  “Oh,” Aoife protested as he pushed it further in. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help tensing as she heard the click of the clamp, forcing her open.

  “Sorry, I need to see your cervix, to make sure I get the swab properly,” he apologised. God, he was actually looking in there. Right up her jacksie. What the hell? He moved it around, trying to get the angle right. She involuntarily tried to close her legs, not able to stand the idea of him seeing bits of her that she had never even seen herself.

  “Open up like a good girl, nearly over,” Matt coaxed and she let her legs fall apart to his words, although she was willing to bet he would be a lot less compliant than she, if the shoe were on the other foot. She felt a light pressure as he withdrew the speculum.

  “Well done! Keep your legs just like that. How about anal sex? Shit, sorry, that’s not how I meant it…” He spluttered just as the words registered in Aoife’s brain. “I mean have you ever done it; if so, I need a swab.”

  Matt had screwed up the question so badly Aoife couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped. She quickly sobered up though when she realised she had to answer, and the answer was far more mortifying than his little slip of the tongue.

  “I don’t think so, but to be honest, there’s been a lot I don’t remember.” Her face felt so hot as she replied that she was glad of the blindfold hiding her shame. She fully expected him to go into a lecture on safe sex and protecting herself from disease, but to her relief, he didn’t.

  “Right, we had better do a swab to be on the safe side,” he replied. His voice was tight and strained. Aoife was so glad she couldn’t see the look of disapproval on his face.