by Anise Eden
Maybe I hadn’t noticed how low her mood had become because it had happened so gradually. I’d always driven out to visit her at least a couple of times a month, but she’d never seemed particularly unhappy to me. I must have been too selfishly wrapped up in my own problems to see how stressed out and overwhelmed she was, how depressed she had become—and perhaps how exhausted. I wondered if she, too, had suffered from insomnia. I knew from experience that it could make the idea of sleeping forever seem very appealing.
The sad truth was that I had no idea why she’d taken her life. All of her colleagues from the hospice were shocked. They told me that Mom’s two favorite topics had always been how proud she was of me and how much she loved her patients. They acknowledged that her most recent cases had been intense: a World War II combat veteran who was having traumatic flashbacks, and a twelve-year-old girl with leukemia. But they said Mom had handled them with her usual blend of compassion and patience.
We buried her in the family plot in Lewes. At the funeral, I’d talked to the few family members with whom Mom had stayed in contact. I’d also spoken to Ardis, her cousin and best friend. None of them had any idea why she had overdosed.
I couldn’t let myself think about that, though. It would bring up emotions that I had worked too hard to push down and shut away. I needed to think about something other than Mom. And definitely something other than Don.
Given that he was right there in my living room, Ben seemed like a possible choice. But I hesitated. I’d learned early on to be okay with being alone, to be independent, and to rely on myself. After all, my mother’s job had always required her to be on-call evenings and weekends. Still, a part of me longed to have more people in my life whom I could count on.
I didn’t have a lot of options. Since I had proven to myself numerous times that I was incapable of sustaining normal romantic relationships, I knew that dating wasn’t the answer. My friends from high school and college had scattered, moving away as I had for graduate school or jobs, or disappeared into serious relationships or marriages. Without intending too, I had worsened my isolation by diving so deeply into my own work. Aside from professional relationships, Simone and Sid were my only two remaining lifelines to any sort of social existence.
The impulse to go downstairs and hang out with Ben nagged at me, but I worried that he might think it was weird. After what had happened with Don, though, I figured I had a good excuse to want some company.
I had fallen asleep in with my hair still in a braid. It had gone askew, loose in some places and tight in others. With a lot of careful unbraiding, I managed to untangle my mass of long, wavy hair without pulling too much out. After realizing how rumpled my clothes were, I slipped out of them and into my bathrobe and headed downstairs.
Ben was standing at the front window, looking out through the blinds. He turned as he heard my footfalls. He had taken off his jacket and laid it neatly over the back of the chair, revealing the Marines insignia on the back of his T-shirt. “Everything all right?” he asked.
At the sight of his face, my anxiety began to melt away. It was replaced by something nice, something soothing. “Yeah. Trouble sleeping, that’s all.”
“That’s understandable.” Ben sat down on the couch. He was giving me an odd look—a mixture of surprise and awe, like I was some sort of rare species of bird he hadn’t seen before.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, shaking the look from his face. “It’s just—you let your hair down.”
“Oh, yeah.” I gave my wild sea of hair a dismissive finger flick. “It’s kind of unruly. That’s why I keep it up most of the time.” Then I noticed that Ben had been playing solitaire on the coffee table…with Sid’s racy deck.
He followed my gaze. “Interesting deck.”
Perfect. A blush crept onto my face. “They’re not mine.”
“Mm-hmm,” he said, then took mercy on me and changed the subject. “So, what usually helps you get back to sleep?”
“Umm…” I thought for a moment. “Ice cream?”
He nodded with mock-gravitas. “Do you have some or do we need to go out and get it?”
I grinned. “I have some, of course. Besides, I wouldn’t ask you to make an ice cream run with me at two in the morning, especially not after everything else you’re doing for me.” I went into the kitchen. “Any for you? It’s peanut butter cup.”
“No, thanks. No ice cream while on duty.”
I grabbed the ice cream carton and a spoon and sat on the other end of the couch. “Is that some kind of military rule?”
“That’s right. Numerous operations have been ruined by the untimely ingestion of rum raisin.” He pointed at my carton. “Glad to see you’re not standing on ceremony or anything.”
“If you want formality, you’re going to have to come protect me at a reasonable hour.”
The sound of his easy chuckle warmed me. “I’m glad to see this whole thing hasn’t made you lose your sense of humor.” As I savored the ice cream, he asked gently, “Are you doing okay, Cate? For real.”
I decided to dip a cautious toe into the self-revelation pool. “I’m okay about the Don thing, I think. The way you and Pete jumped in, I’m really overwhelmed. And grateful.” I paused. “It’s just weird. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and taking care of a lot of other people besides. Having the shoe on the other foot isn’t very comfortable for me, I guess.”
He nodded. “I get that. But I’m glad you didn’t let your discomfort stop you from accepting our help. No one should have to handle a situation like this by themselves.”
I felt myself softening. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. I’m still a little worried about you, though.”
“Why?”
“Well,” he replied with eyebrows raised, “you haven’t argued with me about anything in nearly twelve hours. Not in earnest, anyway.”
“And this worries you, why?”
“It’s not normal from what I’ve seen.”
“Would you like me to argue with you about something?” I offered. “Would that put your mind at ease?”
“I’m not complaining. It’s a nice change of pace.”
I grabbed a throw pillow from behind my back and lobbed it at his sideways grin, but he caught it easily. “I just wanted to make sure you were still in there somewhere,” he said.
“I’m here. I’m just not really myself right now, I guess.”
He stood and handed me the pillow, then sat down and stretched his arm along the back of the couch behind me. He sat just close enough that I could feel the edges of the warmth radiating from his body. “You want to talk about it?”
I hesitated, wondering how much I should tell Ben about the reason for my insomnia. I hadn’t really talked to anyone about my mother’s death. There was something that would make me more comfortable, though. “Ben, would you mind…” I wasn’t even sure how to word it. “I mean, it might be easier for me to talk to you…”
“What is it?”
I squinted up at him. “You know that thing I do with my clients?”
“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “You want to submerge into me before you confide in me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, instantly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Of course you can, and don’t apologize,” he said emphatically. “You said that submerging gives you a general sense of a person. If it’ll make you feel more comfortable with me, I’m all for it. I want you to know that you can trust me, Cate. What do you need me to do?”
I tried to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. “I don’t know. This is kind of an unusual situation.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Since you usually do it with clients, let’s pretend I’m a client. You can ask me questions, and I’ll answer them. At some point, you’ll probably start to feel your way along. What do you think?”
I liked the idea of being put back into the therapist role, which w
as much more comfortable for me than being a patient. However, I wasn’t sure if it would work. “That sounds good, I guess. It’s just that with clients, they’re actually coming to me with a problem. It’s usually when they start really talking about the problem that I’m able to fully lose myself in them. I don’t know if role-playing is going to work.”
He thought for a minute. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a real problem to work with.”
“Really? You would do that?”
“Sure. Anything I can do to help.”
“Wow. Thanks.” I was once again moved by unexpected generosity from the drill instructor. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”
He straightened himself up on the couch. “Go ahead, Doc.”
I grinned at the absurdity of the situation. I also felt a sudden spark of excitement at the thought of doing an actual experiment. “So, you’re Benjamin MacGregor, Ph.D. in organizational psychology, ex-Marine Corps, clinic manager. Married? Single?”
“Single.”
“And what is your age?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Okay.” I took notes on an imaginary pad. “What brings you in today, Dr. MacGregor?”
“I’m here supporting a friend,” he said, smiling.
“Wonderful. That’s very kind of you.” I smiled back. “While you’re here, is there anything I can help you with? Any low mood, persistent worries? Trouble with sleep or appetite? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Well, there is one thing you might be able to help me with.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
Ben examined his hands. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
In that instant, my self-consciousness disappeared. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, it was time to break glass. I focused my attention on him entirely, like a lens zooming in. “Ben, there’s no reason to feel embarrassed with me, believe me,” I said sincerely, no longer playing a role. “What is it?”
“It’s just…” He seemed to be searching for words. “It’s a problem I’ve had since I was a kid, an anxiety thing. I’ve tried, but I’ve never been able to shake it.”
“Go ahead.”
As he spoke, he once again met my gaze. I looked into his eyes, preparing. “I don’t like to eat in front of other people,” he finally said.
“What?” Utterly taken by surprise, I wondered if I’d heard him correctly.
His brow furrowed. “I can’t…I can’t eat in front of other people. It makes me nervous.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. I felt honored that he’d confided in me about something that was so emotionally raw for him. Well, therapist, I told myself, time to go to work. I looked into his eyes. All at once I was inside, swimming in a sea of Ben.
Once submerged into his mind, I stretched out my empathic senses. Right away, I picked up on Ben’s intelligence, his sincerity, and his desire to help and protect others. But I also became aware of his stubbornness and a near-compulsion to be in control. Ben had that rare integrity, then—someone who was exactly the same on the inside as they appeared on the outside. While there were no surprises, though, there were parts of him that I couldn’t quite identify. They were dark and in shadow, but they didn’t feel at all threatening to me. That was all I needed to know for the moment.
I found my bearings and focused on the task at hand. As I held his problem in my mind, my attention was drawn to something that looked like a dark pillar. When I moved toward it, the pillar moved away. I followed its movements until eventually it brought me to a place that felt small and confining. Then the pillar disappeared.
Inside the small space I sensed the presence of a young boy. An image flashed through my mind: a small plate of food. I knew that must be what the boy was seeing.
“Eating,” I observed aloud. I could sense that the boy felt like a turtle without a shell. “It makes you feel vulnerable.”
“Yes,” I heard Ben reply, “and I’ve never understood why.”
I felt another presence. Again an image flashed into my head: a small brown dog lying on the ground, foam around its lips, and a half-eaten bowl of dog food by its side. “Your dog. He was poisoned?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
I leaned forward as I experienced the boy’s broken heart, his fear, and his terrible guilt. “Someone poisoned him, and you think it was your fault.”
“Why would I think it was my fault?” Ben asked, perplexed.
Silently, I held the question in my heart. Moments later, words entered my mind as though they were coming from my own memory: The neighbor poisoned him for barking too much. It was my job to make sure he didn’t bother anybody.
“No, no,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault that the dog barked. Dogs bark; that’s what they do. It was the neighbor’s fault for having unrealistic expectations and for being cruel.”
“Oh wow,” Ben exclaimed.
I felt a rush of compassion for the boy travel from my heart into the small space. “You and the dog ate together. He died, and you thought it was your fault. Now you’re afraid to eat with anyone else for fear that they, too, will die.” My desire to heal him unleashed itself, flowing like a torrent out of me and into the boy. “Please let me help you with this.”
“Cate,” Ben said, and I felt his hands on either side of my face. At his touch, I pulled myself back into my own body, bringing as much of his pain back with me as I could. It dropped down into the center of my being with a sickening thud. Fortunately, I was used to concealing my own pain. I didn’t want Ben to feel guilty or have any regrets.
“What?” he stammered. “How?”
Still mildly disoriented, I fumbled for words. “Did it work?”
“I should say so,” he said, dropping his hands onto his lap. “I don’t know what…”
I looked up at Ben and placed my hands in his. As I saw a child’s mixture of pain and wonder reflected in his grown-up face, I felt the impulse to take care of him. “Are you okay?”
“Definitely. More than okay.” He squeezed my hands and appeared to regain his composure. “You are incredible. You have an amazing gift. You shared insights that have eluded me for years, not to mention my mother and several psychologists. And,” he added, pointing to his chest, “I could feel you. I could actually feel you in there, healing me.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yes, really. It felt like a river of healing energy flowing from you into me. That’s empath healing, Cate,” he said intently. “Is that something you’ve done before, with your clients?”
Still somewhat stunned, I tried to recall. “No, not that I’m aware of. I think that was a first.”
“Well, you’re definitely a natural. Right now, if I think about eating in front of people, I can still feel the anxiety, the resistance. But it’s much reduced.”
“The wound seemed very deep,” I said. “If it’s been around since you were a child, it will probably take some work to overcome it.”
“What did you mean when you asked me if you could help me with it? Were you talking about the empath healing?”
“No. That just kind of happened automatically. What I meant was, let me help you. In real life. Practice eating with someone. With me.” I blushed again and looked down at my lap, realizing how inappropriate that might have sounded. I was his client, not the other way around. “If you want to, I mean.”
There was a pause. “I would like that.”
I looked up, disbelieving. “Really?”
“Sure. We could start with say, lunch tomorrow?”
I was surprised at how much the idea pleased me. “That would be great. Maybe it’s some way for me to pay you back for all of this protection you’re giving me.”
Gold flashed through his eyes again. “If it helps you to look at it that way, go ahead, but no payment is required. It really is our pleasure.”
Before I could respond, we heard the rumbling diesel engine of Pete’s truck pulling up ou
t front. “Three a.m. Right on time as usual.” Ben took me by the hand. “Cate, thank you. I mean it.”
“Thank you for being willing to share that with me. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“You made it more than worth it. I hope you’ll feel more comfortable confiding in me now.” He opened the door.
Pete stepped in and narrowed his accusing eyes at us. “I saw you weren’t in your car. What are you two kids doin’ in here? Havin’ a good time?”
Ben grinned. “Like we’d tell you if we were.” He turned back toward me, pointing a thumb at Pete. “Cate, where do you want this one?”
“Oh, he can stay in the living room, too. What the heck, my reputation with the neighbors is already ruined.” Suddenly weary again, I yawned.
“So you put her to sleep, I see,” Pete teased. “You must not have been having too good a time after all.”
Ben smiled easily as he headed for the door. “See you both at eight thirty. Get some sleep, Cate. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”
“Okay, goodnight,” I said as he closed the door behind him. Pete was already sitting on the edge of the sofa and kicking off his boots.
“Go.” He took off his hat and used it to shoo me toward the stairs. “I’m on it.”
“Thanks, Pete. I really mean it.”
“Go on, git.”
I barely managed to get out of my robe and under the covers before fading clean away.
Chapter Twelve
Hell Week, Day Two
On Monday morning, in a pleasant surprise, Ben offered me the option of merely observing tai chi for a day so that I could get the general idea of what they were doing. I watched the session, which looked like a cross between ballet and modern dance. At the same time, I became even more certain that I would never be able to master the art, lacking as I was in natural grace.
Afterwards, Ben changed into his business attire and took me back to his office. As we settled into our respective seats, I was surprised to find that after only one day, I already felt much more comfortable there.