by Gloria Foxx
Claire found me sitting alone at the kitchen table with no lights, only the the dim glow coming from the dining room. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Where’s Dominic?” I couldn’t keep a secret from her. She was genuine. I wanted to spill out all I heard and get her opinion.
“He’s talking to his dad and I overheard part of their conversation.”
“Nate has always been too hard on that boy. What did he say?”
“You should know that Dr. Walsh is my therapist. I’ve been seeing him since I was fifteen.”
“I suspected as much when he said Father Jack introduced you. Now what did he say to Dominic?”
Two months ago I would have run, hiding from the kindness in her eyes, protecting myself. Today I open up, telling her all I heard, afraid, yet sharing myself and my insecurities anyway.
“Dominic and his father have a rocky relationship. Dominic has had his own challenges, partly because he’s independent and rebels when his dad or anyone else tell him what to do. That dynamic will probably work in your favor, although no guarantees. The most important thing to remember is that Dominic picked you. He’s dated, we’ve met girlfriends before, but this is the first time he’s ever brought a girl to a family gathering. That’s huge. Just have faith. It’ll work out, maybe not as we hope or expect, but it will always work out. Give me a hug sweetheart.”
I felt better in her arms. “Thank you Claire.”
Dominic arrived in the kitchen saying, “I just said goodbye to dad. We have to get going. Early day at work tomorrow.” He smiled wryly and hugged his mom.
I wondered at the rest of their conversation as we collected our coats. I kept quiet as we waved goodbye to the rest of the family from the living room doorway and then we were off.
I waited for Dominic to say something during the drive back to my dorm. We didn’t go to his place as I hoped.
He remained silent. I tried to fill the dead air with chatter, but it fell flat. In spite of Claire’s reassurance, I was concerned. Dominic was too quiet. I didn’t even exist for him in those moments, before we arrived at my dorm.
He pulled my bag from the trunk and walked me to the door to kiss me goodbye. He took me in his arms and everything was allright. He must have come to a decision and I was elated. He chose me. His kiss was thrilling. I was absorbed into him. We merged, two parts of a whole. He held on tight, unwilling to let go. We were going to be okay. He wasn’t talking about it yet and he might never, but we would be fine.
As he pulled away, I felt alone, only half of me was left. The other half was with him. “Goodbye Abbi.”
His voice was ragged, agitated by emotion. I smiled and watched him walk away. He looked like a man defeated, beat down by life. This was strange. He was so consumed by our kiss. Warning bells began to chime quietly in the back of my mind. Did I need to be worried? Was he picking his father? No. He picked me. His kiss told me so. Maybe I should ask.
Dominic was gone, but I would see him soon. I had to.
Chapter 24
The weekend was eternal. Dominic worked Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Madison finally came back Sunday evening. Her parents hated Jake. She was partly elated to have spent so much time with him and partly miserable because her parents didn’t like him. They hadn’t actually said so, but she swore she could tell. They weren’t as welcoming as they should have been. They weren’t excited for her.
Apparently, all they said was that they were concerned she was losing herself in her relationship with Jake and she was too young. There were a lot of young men in the world. She didn’t need to settle on one quite so soon.
We didn’t talk about my Thanksgiving romance or my concerns about the state of my relationship with Dominic. First she was too distracted and then she was on the phone with Jake, so I kept my own counsel.
Tuesday I saw Dr. Walsh. I really needed to talk about Dominic, but it would be hard, considering I overheard their conversation. Dr. Walsh actually made it easy.
“Let’s talk about Dominic,” he said.
“I’d like to talk about Dominic too.”
“I can’t continue to treat you because of your relationship with my son. It creates a conflict for me.”
“I have to confess, I heard part of your conversation while hanging my coat in the closet.”
“I see. How do you feel about that?”
“As long as I can see Dominic, I suppose I could see another therapist. He’s been good for me, although I’m not sure I understand your conflict.”
“I can’t work with a patient who has a relationship with someone so close to me. It’s called a dual relationship, basically meaning both you and I have separate relationships with the same person. It’s even worse because Dominic is more than just a friend to both of us. Imagine if you wanted to talk about your relationship? What if I think you’re wrong and my son is right? What if I find out things about my son that a father should never know? It complicates our separate relationships and makes it difficult for me to be objective.”
“I think I understand, but we had this shared relationship before and it wasn’t a problem. Plus we both have a separate relationship with Father Jack and that’s not a problem.”
“Jack isn’t really a friend. We went to high school together many, many years ago, and have since gone our separate ways. I hadn’t seen him for a number of years before he called about you. As for Dominic, he’s my son. He will always be more important in my life than any patient. Any decisions I make any advice or opinions I have will be colored by my preference for my son.”
“So it’s okay for Dominic and I to see each other as long as I see a different therapist? We could continue to see each other then, right?”
“That would be technically true, but I’m not sure you’re good for Dominic. He’s working towards his doctorate you know. He’ll be a doctor of psychology by May. I’m afraid that you’ll need him more than he needs you, distracting him from his studies and eventually his career.”
“Well that sounds like your preference for your son and not necessarily an objective opinion.” I was trying to hold on to Dominic with both hands, grasping, fists clenched tight. “What happens if he chooses me?” I thought he already had, but I haven’t heard from him since Thursday, so maybe not.
“You and he will need to work it out. At this point, it doesn’t matter if he chooses you or not. Because of your current relationship, whatever it is, and even if it ends, I won’t be able to provide unbiased guidance. Every decision I make, every word I say, every action I take will be colored by your relationship with my son. I can’t pretend I don’t know about it. Even if you split up, I’m afraid we’ll need to end our relationship.”
This wasn’t hypothetical. It was real. I would be moving on. The wind was knocked out of me like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t talk. I didn’t even answer or protest.
“I sorry Abbi, but I have to refer you to another doctor. I’ve called a colleague and he can fit you in at the same time on Tuesdays. He’s reviewed your file and is comfortable stepping in. Don’t worry about the bill. We’ve worked it out. I owe that much to Jack.”
“Thank you Dr. Walsh.” The past three years flashed before me. I thought about the girl I’d been when I first arrived and the person I am now, having really grown into myself, into the woman I was meant to be, although I was not quite there yet.
There was nothing left to say. I stood, my bag dropping from my lap to the floor. It caught on my wrist, coming along with me as I snatched the card from Dr. Walsh’s hand. I moved to the door, numb, wrapped in cotton. I’ve been rejected. At least I still have Dominic. At least I hope I do.
On the bus back to campus I convinced myself that I must still have Dominic. That was the conflict with Dr. Walsh. If I didn’t have Dominic there was no conflict, right? I know he said there would always be a conflict, but I still wanted to believe Dominic had chosen me. Wouldn’t it be just my luck if Dr. Walsh sent me away and Dominic walked out too?
I texted h
im: Hi. How are you?
I just talked to your dad.
Can I come over? Need to talk.
I didn’t get an answer, just like I didn’t get an answer all weekend, or even yesterday. I called instead. Still no answer.
The bus drove by my stop. I didn’t want to get off there. I continued on to the other side of campus, to fraternity row, to Dominic’s house. I needed to know.
I don’t know who answered the door, but he let me in when I asked for Dominic. I didn’t need his escort. I knew how to find Dominic’s room.
There was no answer and the door was locked. I should have known. I sat on the floor, back against the door. It was just past lunch and he was probably in class. I’d wait him out.
I waited and waited and waited. The hallway was dim, but light from outside filtered in. Eventually the light was gone and it was dark, like I felt inside, until someone came by and flipped on a switch. I didn’t notice him at first, blinking at the sudden brightness. It was the guy who let me in, hours ago.
“Dominic’s usually late on Tuesday’s. Maybe you want to come back tomorrow.”
He wasn’t asking me to come back later, he was telling me I should. Well I didn’t want to. I needed to resolve this today. I needed to know. I couldn’t live like this. I pulled out my phone to check for messages. Nothing from Dominic. Of course I knew that. The stupid phone never buzzed, but I was eternally hopeful.
Minutes crept by, turning into hours. I felt like a stalker waiting outside his room. I’d missed lunch and dinner, but I wasn’t hungry. The dread roiling in my stomach rivaled the black monster that used to caution me, to protect me from hurt and heartache.
This was different though. It wasn’t protection or panic. It’s misery, despondency. I think it’s heartache. The longer I wait, the more time I have to convince myself that Dominic didn’t choose me.
I may be naive but I’m not blind or dumb. He didn’t bring me back here on Thursday. He didn’t make arrangements to see me again. He hasn’t returned my calls or texts. I originally thought he was busy, but now I know. He didn’t choose me.
I was sure of it and at the same time I wasn’t sure of anything.
Dominic arrived close to midnight. Someone had switched off the hall light leaving only dim shafts of yellow light filtering up from downstairs. It was thick and dusty, more gloom that light and it didn’t reach me as I sat on the floor, waiting. I’m not sure I can stand. I haven’t moved in hours. I’m not going to try.
He kicked into me. “What the hell?” He was angry, irritable.
“I need to talk to you.” My voice was raw, creepy in the darkened hall.
“Abbi.” He sounded hopeful, but said. “You can’t be here. I can’t see you.” My gut wrenched as he rested his forehead on the door. It was as if to hold himself there so he didn’t come down by me.
“I thought so, but I needed to know for sure. You know your dad can’t see me anymore either? I guess I’m officially a member of the great unwashed, the throw away people nobody wants or cares about.”
“Don’t be like that Abbi. I have to think about my education, my career. He’s right. In our short time together, you’ve consumed me, distracted me from everything else.”
“That’s exactly what your dad said. You mom thought you were too independent to be swayed by his opinion, that you’d make up your own mind.”
“I have made up my own mind. I can’t see you again.” He sounded angry. I could hear the lie in his voice. He did want to see me again, but has decided to walk away instead of taking the risk.
I struggled to my feet, ungainly and awkward after sitting motionless for so long.
“Don’t touch me.” I didn’t mean to snap. I wanted to maintain my composure, but was failing miserably. I lurched sideways toward the stairs, leaving Dominic behind. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Sensation returned to my legs with a prickly scorching burn. I was under attack, but not just my legs. My heart was damaged to. I limped down the stairs, one step at a time.
Dominic watched. I knew it, but I wouldn’t give in. I wouldn’t look back. I wouldn’t cry or crumble. I wouldn’t break down while he watched. I could be strong. I could be courageous.
I did what I feared the most and it didn’t break me. I walked away, slamming the door as I left. I was angry too. Petulant. What did I ever do to deserve this crazy broken life that careened from one catastrophe to the next?
I collapsed next to a tree. Not the same tree where Dominic found me while wearing those crazy fish slippers. I didn’t make it that far. I couldn’t breathe. My chest burned. My eyes burned. I was on fire, yet cold and icy. I was crystallizing from the inside out. My lungs, heart and stomach transformed into shards, angry jagged razor-sharp formations. If I moved too quickly, sucked in my breath, cried, I would be shredded.
Give me a minute. Then I’ll walk away.
I thought I was angry. I’m not. I’m hurt. He promised not to hurt me, but he did. I didn’t want that promise. Having it makes the pain even worse now that he has hurt me. I gave Dominic the power, and I can’t take it away. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to take it away.
The sidewalks are dark and quiet, buildings buttoned up for the night. I’m walking now. It’s a college campus but no one’s out this late on a Tuesday night, except me. There are tears, no recriminations, no anger. The ice inside has made me numb.
Chapter 25
Maddie and I are meeting for dinner. I always hope to catch a glimpse of Dominic at the sandwich shop, but I never do. He’s avoiding it, avoiding me. It’s okay. I’ve let him go. Don’t get me wrong. I’d take him back in a heartbeat, but I know I can’t have him. I was ready for him, but he’s not ready for me.
My heart is wrapped in razor wire. It tightens, shredding me with every breath I take, with every heartbeat. It won’t be long before there’s nothing left inside, just a hollow shell, an empty husk that can never be filled. It’s a heavy aching burden.
I don’t believe in senseless pain. Dominic taught me that. I feel it, but it serves no purpose so I channel it into something productive. Thanks to Aunt Jane for that legacy. I’ve directed my pain into my studies. Straight A’s, dean’s list. I don’t compartmentalize. Dominic is always there, influencing all of it. He’s the razor wire coiling in my chest, growing into me, a constant pain, yet part of me.
Such dark thoughts, I should talk to someone. I called the therapist Dr. Walsh recommended, but I’m still wallowing, not ready for someone new.
Instead I ask myself the questions Dr. Walsh used to ask, How does that make you feel? Why do you think that is? Why do you think they did that? I have to remember that it’s not always about me. I’m considering Dominic, his state of mind. I muddle through. I think about why Dominic walked out and realize that it’s his own fears and insecurities. It’s not me.
Hey, I can still talk to guys without insurmountable fear rearing its ugly head making me run. That’s progress, right? I may not be moving forward, but I’m not moving backward either.
Maddie joined me then.
“How ya doin sweetie?” Her eyes were bright and she gave me a sad smile, seeming to understand I was still down, might always be down.
Maddie spent the first two nights after Dominic consoling me. She’s the best friend ever and was good for my self confidence. Since then, she’s spent most of her time with Jake while I threw myself into my studies.
It was almost Christmas. We’d seen very little of each other and had to catch up.
“I’m alright.”
“That’s not a ringing endorsement. Maybe it’s time to go out, meet some people, have some fun.”
“I’m not really up for a party. Most times, I feel like I need a shoulder to cry on.”
“Hey, it’s tough. It’ll get better. Just give it time.”
I didn’t want it to get better. The pain from the razor wire in my chest served as a constant reminder. It warned me away from relationships, much like my earlier fear h
ad warned me away.
“I’ll be okay,” I mumbled. I’m sure I would be, but okay was a far cry from how amazing I felt with Dominic.
Maddie had been texting throughout our conversation, paying attention, but obviously distracted by the person on the other side of the messages.
“I hope so. Listen. I’ve got to go. If you need me, let me know.”
She jumped up, looking around, fidgety.
I did need her now. Even just the company helped, but I didn’t stop her. She was gone.
As I picked at my dinner, alone, I thought about how much time I’d spent alone throughout my life. I ate almost nothing and was just about ready to leave, when Gabe sat down at my table.
Chapter 26
“I couldn’t let a pretty girl eat all alone.”
I smiled. I’m sure it was a sad smile. We’d barely spoken since ice skating weeks ago. “Hi Gabe.”
“Hi yourself.”
Gabe carried on a one-sided conversation, with very little input from me. Somehow he knew I craved company, but wasn’t ready to talk. He talked about our shared class, people I didn’t know, inconsequential topics. Mostly it didn’t matter.
I had more appetite with a friend to share my time, and managed to finish about half my dinner when suddenly his near monologue caught my attention.
“What was that you were saying?”
“I said Joe Beston has been expelled.”
“That’s not him, is it?”
“Yes. It’s the same Joe. They’re saying he’s a flasher. He exposed himself to a girl in the library.”
“Wow.” My memory and imagination flared to life. I felt guilty about my encounter with Joey, wondering if it set off a chain reaction, possibly triggering this most recent punishment.
“First the frat house and now school,” said Gabe.