by MJ Knight
He poked his head around the door and smiled again. “I hope so,” he told her, and left the office feeling like a million bucks.
Chapter Three
“And then I shook his hand!”
Dr. Lange looked neither pleased nor displeased, but she said, “I applaud your efforts, Julianne, I truly do, but that seems like a big step. Leaving the house, going downtown, having contact with a man who reminds you vaguely of your abuser. I don’t want you to approach any of this recklessly.”
“It’s not like I don’t leave the house. I shop in my neighborhood, I speak to people sometimes. I took a cab both ways which I do when I come here. Going to my client’s office was a goal that I felt was reasonable. Julianne bit her lip. “Doctor, I haven’t told you this before because it, it’s... I’m having trouble even saying out loud.”
“Take your time.”
A few deep breaths later, Julianne managed to say, “Uncle Gerald is being released from prison at the end of the year.”
Dr. Lange nodded, carefully neutral. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I’m terrified. The monster keeps whispering to me that he will come right to my home and this time he will annihilate me, who I am inside. I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I’ve worked too hard to get this far.”
“I understand your concerns. Please tell me, are your efforts in this area entirely based on the timetable of his release?”
“No. No, not entirely, though it’s made this year an important one for me. I cannot be seen to be a destroyed child. He cannot ever see me that way. If he does, it will become true and I will disappear. It might be slow and maybe no one else will notice as I go, but one day I will simply be a shadow on the wall like those people in Hiroshima.”
“I see.”
“You believe I’m pushing myself too hard again, I understand that, but there is a level of social competence I must reach before there is any chance of him coming back into my life.”
“I—Julianne have you considered a restraining order?”
“Of course I have. But he doesn’t have to be in the room to remind me of what happened between us. He’s always in my head, Doctor. I still dream of what he did to me, you know about the nightmares. I can close my eyes and see the room where it happened, see his naked body, see everything as if it was happening all over again. You know as well as I do that the prison was a safety illusion for me. It’s like this rubber band.” She held up her arm.
“I was meaning to ask you about that. It’s new.”
“Yes.” Julianne fingered the wide tan band. I found it on the floor by my mailbox and remembered that people who have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder use a rubber band to break the hold of their compulsions. I thought that since every one of my coping mechanisms is a trick, I might try to add another to my trick bag. It could work, maybe not, but I won’t know until I try.” What she didn’t say was that she felt it had been a gift from the universe, showing up in her hallway on the day she’d read about the snapping technique. A sign from the Great Whatever. Julianne was big on signs, she found they kept her honest.
This time Lange’s smile was wide and genuine. “That’s true, and it has proven effective for some OCD sufferers. I hope it helps you. Do you have a clear idea of how you will use it?”
Julianne nodded enthusiastically. “I believe it’s going to help me with thought-stopping. For example as I came here today, I was in a cab I’d been in before so the driver knew my trick of dropping the money on the seat. I was anxious about how to deal with it; should I just pretend to drop it again and let him think I’m a klutz? Should I tough it out and touch him? I started going around and around until my hands began to shake and I knew I was going to tell him to take me home. So I snapped the band, and my thoughts stopped racing. I could stop, and think clearly about what I was going to do. I could let the ride continue while I worked it all out sensibly and without panic.”
“And?”
“I realized that I had voluntarily shaken a man’s hand this week, and touched another by accident, and nothing terrible had happened. I realized that what I feared was only what was in my head. I handed him the money and made sure the contact was minimal. I told him to keep the change as usual. The only reason I could decide to do that was by snapping the band to stop my thoughts racing. If tricks like this can keep me from feeling as if I’m going to fly to bits, then I’ll use them.”
“Fair enough. I look forward to hearing more about this new mode of treatment.” She checked her watch. “Well, Julianne, our time is nearly up. Is there anything we need to cover before you go?”
Oddly, she found herself wanting to ask Dr. Lange about the very attractive man who had the appointment before hers. He’d been tall and slender, with spiky dark hair, warm brown eyes, and a long, elegant nose. He had an air about him that attracted her, though she couldn’t say why, and she wanted to know more about him. Not that Lange would tell her anything about him, not even his name. That was all confidential. But it was oddly pleasing to have some mild sexual feelings turn towards someone real.
“There’s one thing.”
“And that is?”
“We’ve talked about my having sexual feelings in spite of my experiences.”
“Yes, and we’ve discussed that it’s a perfectly normal thing for you to feel. Everyone is different Julianne, and your feelings are your own. Please don’t—”
“No, it’s fine. I’m not thinking it’s wrong, not at all. I’ve stopped questioning them and am trying to embrace them. I believe it means I’m getting beyond the physical issues I’ve had in the past. But for the first time I’ve found myself looking at a man, a specific one, and having genuine sexual feelings towards him.”
To someone like Julianne who was acutely aware of changes in body language it was clear that she’d startled her therapist. “Really?” Lange asked. “This is not just a timetable thing?”
“Not at all. It came out of nowhere.” It took a deep, calming breath to allow her to go on. “I saw someone today and we smiled, exchanged a few words—very few—and when he was gone I realized that I found him attractive. I’m not sure what to think about this, but I thought I should tell you.”
Dr. Lange nodded. “I’m glad you did. Do you want to act on this?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again,” she said, knowing that while it wasn’t entirely true, it wasn’t precisely a lie either. “We don’t have time to explore this today, though. But I wanted you to know.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the confidence.”
On the way out of the building, Julianne stopped for a cup of coffee. It wasn’t as if she really wanted any but each time she had successful, non-threatening contact with groups of people, it became easier for her to contemplate the next time she would do something similar.
On that afternoon in particular, she wanted to test the waters a little more. Seeing the man in Dr. Lange’s waiting room had sparked feelings in her. Or rather they had connected feelings to reality, given her nebulous longings a face and body. And that connection had suddenly connected her to the world, to common experiences of all humanity.
She felt as if she’d made a kind of breakthrough. She deserved a cup of coffee.
Dr. Lange’s Diary
Parents watching their children doing something difficult often experience anxiety. Sometimes it’s based on fear that the child might be hurt either physically or emotionally, sometimes it’s displaced anxiety from their past. I’m not sure why I feel so much anxiety for Julianne T., but it nags at me.
The certainty that her abusive Uncle will be back in the family orbit drives her in a way that is familiar to me. It’s why I became a therapist; I needed to attempt to understand why childhood abuse would make me cold and hard while it made my sister fragile and ultimately killed her.
I don’t want Julianne to fail. I fear what might happen to her if she does. But I do know that if she’s set her mind on a goal, I can�
��t stop her. She is very much like me in that respect. All I can do is hope that if she needs help she can come to me so that we can work through problems together.
I hope she knows that I am here to catch her if she stumbles.
I am also attempting to assimilate Adrian’s attachment to one of his teachers, another older woman. Clearly they are important in his life. I must get him to talk more about his relationship with his teacher and see if this leads him to discover a link between her and his seemingly unbreakable attachment to the woman he is currently involved with.
Chapter Four
“Tell me more about this teacher of yours. Carolyn? Did she mind you calling her by her given name?”
Adrian was standing at the window looking down on the manicured lawn that surrounded the building. There was a pond nearby, and wild ducks had returned to it earlier in the spring. They were swimming happily to and fro.
“I didn’t call her that to her face. I’d have been afraid to. She was very proper, or at least I felt she must be to have so much... what shall I call it? Probity? Integrity but more than that.”
“It’s a good word, I understand what you’re saying.”
“At first she was strong for both of us when I badly needed someone to stand between me and the world for a time. And then, as she taught me discipline, she also gave me strength of character.”
“You talk about discipline. Is this a factor in your life?”
He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “Have I indulged in sexual discipline? Yes. In college. I thought that I was looking for a strong woman to take me in hand. I’d made some mistakes with Ms. Weisz, and—”
“What sort?”
“I made a pass at her and she rejected me soundly. When she did I reverted to old habits. I badgered her, I threatened her, I begged. All for nothing. She would have none of it. She told me quite coldly that she was disappointed in me, and I told her she was just like my mother. That was an enormous insult and she knew it because I’d told her what I thought of my mother.” He chewed his lip and looked back down at the ducks. “She stopped speaking to me. I never had the opportunity to apologize for being such a jerk.”
Lange said nothing. She just waited.
“I should actually say that I never took the opportunity to apologize to her. I was miffed. Vanity,” he said, dismissively.
“We’re all subject to a certain amount of vanity, Adrian.”
“I should have had the sense to apologize. I wasn’t her student anymore and I thought... You see, I imagined that she had been holding back because I was her student, so I waited until graduation and when she was congratulating me, I... went for it, I told her that I was in love with her and wanted to be her lover. And she shot me down.”
Dr. Lange nodded. “It strikes me as a difficult and delicate situation.”
“And I created it. I should at least have apologized for that, even if I meant everything I said. I did love her, I was attracted to her. Her death sent me into a frenzy of guilt which took me to some very dark places in terms of sex play. From mild Ds, I stumbled blindly into S&M, alternating the roles.”
“Was any of it satisfying?”
“Sexually, yes. I enjoyed all the permutations but on a physical level only. They left me feeling empty in the end which is why I stopped. My last year of college I was utterly celibate.”
“Was that fulfilling?”
“Yes and no. I’ve never quite understood my response to celibacy.”
She smiled and checked her watch. “Perhaps we can explore that in another session. Is there anything else we should discuss before our time is up?”
He thought about asking about the young woman, but decided against it. He didn’t really want Lange to know that he’d been attracted to one of her patients. He was sure she wouldn’t like it.
“Nothing.”
“All right then, I’ll see you next week.”
As Adrian was on his way out of the office, he heard the doctor’s phone ring. He waved to her and left the office.
The woman wasn’t in the waiting room, and his heart sank, but as he was putting on his jacket, she burst in.
“I’m so late!” she said to no one in particular. “Am I very late?”
In spite of himself, Adrian laughed.
“What?”
“White rabbit. Alice in Wonderland.”
She looked delighted. “Oh my paws and whiskers,” she said.
“Dr. Lange is taking a call.” He noted that she wore a rubber band on her wrist. OCD, Adrian thought.
“Thank goodness. This was the first time I’ve taken public transportation here and I underestimated the time I’d need.”
She was so lovely and flushed with running up the stairs. He couldn’t help it, he smiled at her and said, “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here.”
He could see that she was pleased, and yet the wall flew up around her, and he didn’t understand.
Just then Dr. Lange came out of her office.
“Oh...Julianne, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. One of my patients has had a severe breakdown and is asking for me.”
“I—um, yes, of course.”
“Thank you for understanding. Thank you. I have to lock up now.” She herded them into the hallway and locked the door. “I’m very sorry,” she repeated before she ran down the stairwell.
“Well...” Adrian said. “Public transportation back home?”
“Oh God, I don’t think I can. Not right away.”
“Well, there’s a café next door. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee on behalf of Dr. Lange. She’ll give me brownie points for it and you’ll get some breathing space.”
He was certain she’d refuse. He could see in her eyes the desperate battle she was fighting, and she snapped her rubber band twice before she said, “Yes, okay!” a little too loudly, as if she was trying to convince herself.
“Good. After you,” he said, gesturing to the stairs. She walked down well ahead of him and waited outside, far enough from the door so that he couldn’t accidentally brush against her. Once in the café he suggested a booth, but she chose a table instead and sat opposite him.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Please don’t think I’m prying or anything, but I don’t want to accidentally cross any barriers and put you off or upset you in any way. Are you dealing with a touch phobia?”
She looked surprised. “Yes! How did you know? Is it that obvious?”
Yeah, it is, he thought, but what he said was, “I’ve seen it before. I understand that your boundaries are important, so be assured I won’t cross them deliberately.”
“I appreciate that,” she said tersely. Then she flushed. “I’m sorry, that sounded rude and ungrateful. I rarely talk about this with anyone.”
“I think you’re pretty brave to have come here on a bus.”
She stiffened for a moment, then her tension broke and she laughed. It wasn’t a jolly sound but it was genuine. “It was. You have no idea.”
“A boy I knew used to go to great lengths to avoid being touched, and the other boys used to go out of their ways to rub up against him. It was horrible. He left school after six months. I’d just arrived and I was a mess, so I never said anything. To this day I feel guilty for not standing up for him.”
“What—Do you know—” she was clearly having a hard time getting her words out. “Why?”
“What his story was? No, I never knew. There was a lot of talk, but none of it made much sense to me back then, and now I pretty much think the boys were making things up because they didn’t understand. Boys often have more active pathologies,” he said with a crooked smile. “We don’t understand those who have passive ones.”
“And how did you act out?” she asked as the waitress brought them their coffee.
“Fighting mostly. I wasn’t too verbal in those days, so I didn’t call people names, I just hit them.”
It made her giggle
, and he was pleased. He liked her laugh. He liked everything about her. “So, may I ask what you do for a living?”
“I’m a freelance artist.”
“Not really? So am I. Not freelance, I work for an agency. But an artist. Well, what passes for art there. I do a lot of computer graphics.”
“I haven’t really gotten into that but it’s fascinating to me what you can do with digital images.”
Their respective problems pushed back by the shared world of art, they chatted happily for nearly an hour-and-a-half. Adrian found himself laughing out loud, something he rarely did, and telling Julianne about his dreams and hopes for his career.
“I want so much to do non-commercial work. I mean, I do already, but to show my work, to be accepted as a fine artist.”
She was nodding. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” she told him. “I feel the same way. But I haven’t painted in so long, I’m not sure I would remember how.”
“I think our hands remember,” Adrian said.
The waitress asked if there was anything else they needed and they both said no, so she put their check on the table. They reached for it at the same moment and their hands touched.
Adrian just pretended it hadn’t happened. “I invited you to have coffee with me,” he reminded her.
“But I was the one who wanted to order pie.” Her voice was a little tight but otherwise she looked fine. He’d seen panic attacks and this wasn’t one.
“Next time you can treat me, how’s that?”
She was silent for so long that he glanced up and saw that she was smiling at him. There was a considering look on her face.
“I would like that,” she told him. “Will you hang around after your appointment next week?”
“If I know that there’s pie and coffee at the end of it, of course. I’ll bring a book.”
They walked out together. He held the door for her and she neatly sidestepped, avoiding any contact with his body.