by Ber Carroll
Linda smiled, looking up from her notes. ‘Okay, Julia. I need to start off with some standard questions about your family and medical history. Are your family living here in San Jose?’
‘No. They’re in San Francisco.’
‘Do you keep in contact with them?’
‘Not much. My mother is rather overbearing. I can’t meet my father without seeing her so I tend to keep my visits to a minimum.’
‘Do you have any siblings?’
‘No.’
‘Do any of your family members have medical problems? You know, drugs, psychiatric, alcohol, suicidal tendencies …’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘How about you? Have you ever had psychiatric treatment before today?’
‘No.’ Julia looked straight at Linda, not even flinching as she lied. She was an accomplished liar.
‘Ever been in hospital?’
‘Never. I’m very healthy.’
‘Do you drink?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much do you drink?’
‘Not much.’
‘How many days a week do you drink?’ Linda had noted Julia’s red eyes and the tremor in her hands.
‘Look, I don’t have any problems with alcohol. I can give it up whenever I want. Can we move on?’ Julia’s smile didn’t take the edge off her words.
‘Are you sleeping well at the moment?’
‘Reasonably.’
‘Is your appetite normal?’
‘Yes.’
‘At any point in your life have you ever felt so bad that you wanted to kill yourself?’
‘No.’
Linda sensed rather than heard the hesitation in her response.
‘Who do you confide in?’
‘My friend, Cherie. She’s the one who dragged me here today. She’s waiting outside like a worried mother.’
Linda smiled. ‘Anybody else you talk to?’
‘No.’
‘Tell me about your husband, Robert.’
‘What would you like to know?’
‘Where you met him? What attracted you to him?’
‘I met him at a company function. If you saw him you would understand what attracted me – he’s very handsome, powerful … most women would kill for a husband like him.’
Linda noted the jealous tinge to Julia’s laugh.
‘Do you have children?’
‘No, Robert isn’t the fatherly type.’
‘How do you feel about not having children?’
‘It doesn’t really bother me one way or the other.’
‘Why did you marry Robert?’
‘Because he asked me … most women wouldn’t turn down a man like him.’ Julia laughed again.
‘How about your sex life?’
Linda was relentless and Julia was starting to tire from the endless questions.
‘It hasn’t been as active lately as it was at the start. Robert has been working long hours.’
‘Do you ever take the initiative in sex?’
‘Yes, sometimes.’
‘How long have you been married?’
‘Over a year.’
‘Tell me, what do you think is wrong with your relationship?’ Linda asked, sitting back in her seat, abandoning her notes. She looked at her new client steadfastly. She strongly believed that eye contact encouraged truthfulness. She couldn’t figure Julia Pozos out. All her answers to the diagnostic questions were negative but there was clearly something wrong. She was an attractive woman but Linda could see that she was taut with tension. The groomed, well-dressed look was spoilt by the unhappy aura, the red eyes, the hands she couldn’t keep still. Linda suspected she had an alcohol problem but acknowledged to herself that Julia was not going to admit it at this session. Maybe she would be able to get it out of her after a few consultations.
‘He loves his work more than me.’ Julia knew she was embellishing the truth but she didn’t want Linda to think she was totally pathetic. The truth was that they’d never had a cosy relationship. They’d had a passionate affair, a quick marriage and he’d held himself aloof from that point onwards. She knew that his dedication to work was the symptom rather than the cause but she didn’t know how to explain that to Linda. The doctor had a wedding band. She had photos of her children and husband on her desk. She wouldn’t be able to understand a woman who wasn’t as secure.
‘How hard have you tried to increase the quality time you spend together?’ Linda asked. She registered Julia’s confusion and rephrased the question. ‘How persistent have you been in making an effort with the relationship?’
Julia thought about the question carefully and her answer was slow but at least honest.
‘Maybe I don’t try hard enough … You see, Robert can be very abrupt and preoccupied. When he’s like that I tiptoe around him until I think he’s in a good mood again. Sometimes a whole week might pass before I could approach him about something quite minor …’
Linda watched Julia’s face, the hurt and insecurity written across it. She watched her hands, fidgeting, shaking.
‘You seem almost intimidated by him,’ she said quietly.
‘Yes, I often am … but not because he yells at me or anything … It’s because he sometimes acts as if he can’t stand to be around me,’ Julia admitted weakly.
‘Have you tried to be more assertive with him, to demand his time, to demand his attention and love? Instead of shrinking away if he is in a difficult mood?’
Julia shook her head.
‘Have you ever said anything to him when he comes home late?’
Again, Julia answered by shaking her head.
‘You seem to have difficulty expressing yourself. You should try to find your voice in this relationship. It’s your life too, you should have a say in what happens.’
‘But I’ve been married before!’ Julia blurted.
‘And?’
‘He left me.’ It still hurt to admit it.
‘What went wrong?’
‘He woke up one morning and decided he’d had enough.’
‘How did you cope with the grief of losing him?’
‘I got through.’ Julia shrugged.
Linda saw raw emotion on her face.
‘Do you think there are any similarities between your first and second marriages?’
Julia was a little annoyed that she had to spell out the obvious. ‘Maybe that I’m not very good at keeping the men in my life interested.’
Linda smiled inwardly. A breakthrough. Some truth at last. Julia had a dependent personality; it was something she could work on.
‘Julia, you seem to have very low self-esteem. Forget the first marriage. It’s over; there is nothing you can do about it. Inject some sparkle into this one. Don’t be afraid to argue in order to get your own way every now and then. Try to be stronger with him.’
‘Okay, I will.’ Julia gave her a tentative smile.
‘I’ll be honest, Julia. I think there is a lot of ground that we haven’t covered today. This was almost like a “getting to know you” session. There are other issues that we must discuss. Things we must talk about frankly. I don’t think you’ve given much away and I can’t help you until you feel confident enough to tell me the truth. I have to wrap up now as I have another consultation but I would like you to book a session with my secretary before you leave.’
Time was up; there was a large clock on the opposite wall that Linda could look at discreetly. It wasn’t good to check your watch in front of patients who were paying exorbitant fees for your undivided attention.
Julia left Linda’s office feeling positive, hopeful. Maybe next time she would tell her a few more truths – like the breakdown after Josh – to see what advice she would have to offer. The doctor was well worth the huge hourly rate and with Robert away she could see her without being secretive.
Cherie was reading a magazine in the waiting room.
‘How did it go?’ she asked, looking up anxiously. Over the la
st few weeks she had been gradually increasing the pressure on Julia to get some help. She’d even gone as far as making today’s appointment.
‘She told me that I possibly wasn’t trying hard enough for Robert’s time,’ Julia answered, looking happier than Cherie had seen her for some time. Cherie didn’t quite understand the doctor’s response but it obviously made great sense to Julia.
Julia paid the bill and made another appointment.
‘Let’s go for a drink,’ she suggested as they went outside.
They had originally planned to go for a meal. Cherie didn’t want to encourage Julia to drink but she acknowledged that it would be a long road to recovery and Dr Stearman was only the first step. She followed Julia into a margarita bar on South First Street.
‘I just need to be more confident,’ Julia said, sliding onto a barstool before Cherie could suggest sitting somewhere more private. ‘I need to call Robert at work more often, insist that we meet for lunch, make sure we take at least one holiday a year. I have allowed work to take over his life by being too meek. That’s what’s been wrong. Do you know he has been in Australia six weeks and I’ve only called him twice? The time difference has made it hard to contact him, admittedly, but for the most part I feel I’m intruding when I call him. I’m his wife … I have a right to call him.’
Cherie remained silent. She had expected that Dr Stearman would show Julia the huge cracks in her marriage and help her to realise that she needed to stop drinking before it was too late to make amends with Robert. Instead Julia was filled with optimism, believing that all she had to do was demand more of Robert’s time and everything would be okay. Either Dr Stearman was bad at what she did or Julia had put her on the wrong track.
Julia didn’t want to go home to an empty house too early and she persuaded Cherie to stay out later than she intended. Cherie knew that Julia was desperately lonely, this probably being her only evening out in weeks. She called Wayne from the pay phone by the ladies’.
‘I’m going to be later than I thought,’ she shouted down the phone over the din of the loud music and raucous voices.
‘Okay, okay, I can hear you!’ Wayne’s voice was very faint. ‘Stay as late as you want … I was talking to Robert …’
She didn’t hear the last part of his sentence.
‘What did you say?’ she yelled.
‘I was talking to Robert … he told me that he …’
He continued to talk and she heard him mention Julia but she couldn’t follow what he was saying.
‘Sorry, honey. I can’t hear a word … I’m going now … I’ll see you later!’ She hung up with a crash.
Wayne grimaced as he put the phone down. He was glad she hadn’t heard him. He had regretted saying it almost immediately. He got the impression that Robert wanted to keep the divorce as quiet as possible and he had nearly blundered by telling Cherie, who would have told Julia for certain.
Cherie was sitting on the fence between Julia and Robert. She felt sorry for Julia and was stupid enough to believe she could reform her. And she was very fond of Robert and didn’t want to see his second marriage end the same way as the first. Cherie was too naïve to see that her efforts were wasted: Robert and Julia had been doomed from the start.
‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ It was another drunk businessman who thought that two attractive women sitting alone at the bar must be easy prey. That made three such offers they had received so far.
‘No, thanks,’ Cherie declined politely.
Julia didn’t even look in the man’s direction. She had chosen the seat because it meant she could get served faster, not because it was a good spot to pick up men.
Cherie thought that some of the men who had approached looked decent enough but Julia was totally dedicated to Robert and the possibility of another man didn’t even enter her consciousness.
‘Eric’s my name.’ He stuck his hand out. Cherie felt sweat on his palm.
Julia continued to ignore him. She was ordering three drinks to Cherie’s one.
‘Do you ladies work around here?’
Julia did but she wasn’t listening. Cherie was getting angry with her for leaving her to deal with him on her own.
‘No, I don’t. I’m a housewife,’ she said pointedly.
Eric eventually took the hint and left them alone.
‘Julia, I really have to go home. Wayne will be getting worried.’
‘Okay, okay. I’ll just have one more …’
Julia made eye contact with the barman and he produced another margarita before Cherie could protest. She drank it in one go. Cherie felt sick watching. Tears were close. She had been looking forward to a nice evening away from anything domestic. But there had been no conversation after the first thirty minutes, only with the various men who had tried to pick them up. Now she just wanted to go home, back to the comfort of Wayne and the kids.
‘Lucky there’s a taxi rank down the street. We shouldn’t have to wait too long for a cab,’ she said as they went outside, her voice strained.
‘I’ve got my car, silly. I don’t need a cab.’
‘You can’t drive! You’ve had far too much to drink.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Cherie, stop fussing. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive and I’m perfectly in control.’
‘You may think you’re in control but I’ve seen what you’ve had to drink. You’re way over the limit. Come on, get a cab with me,’ Cherie pleaded, grabbing her arm and trying to steer her in the direction of the taxi rank.
‘I’m fine.’ Julia shrugged herself free and walked away before Cherie could protest any further.
Her car was parked two blocks away. She rushed, her heels clicking, the street deserted. She got into the car and locked the doors from the inside.
The drive home was uneventful. She was careful not to go too fast, or too close to the centre line. She turned left into their street, their large white house in the first block. The sound of a siren startled her out of her thoughts. There was a police car behind her.
Oh shit!
She pulled over, parking neatly by the kerb.
‘Evening, ma’am. Can I see your driver’s licence or registration?’
She switched on the car light, pretending for a few moments that she couldn’t find her licence in her bag as she desperately tried to think over her options.
‘Thank you … Mrs Pozos,’ he said politely, reading her name from her licence when she finally handed it to him. ‘Do you know why I stopped you?’
‘No …’
‘You haven’t got your headlights on. Didn’t you notice?’
‘Oh … I’m sorry … I had a busy day and I guess I’m a little preoccupied,’ she explained with a nervous smile.
‘Have you had anything to drink today, Mrs Pozos?’
He was quite young, only in his early twenties, and Julia smiled at him again.
‘I had two drinks a few hours ago.’ She assumed that he could smell the alcohol so it was better to appear to be honest.
‘Can you step out of the car, please?’
Fuck!
‘I’m going to ask you to perform a number of sobriety tests. Do you have any physical defects or medical problems that would prevent you from taking these tests?’
Think of something. Think of something.
‘Mrs Pozos, can you please answer the question?’
‘No …’
‘Are you comfortable doing the tests in the shoes you’re wearing?’
What a stupid question!
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to listen to the instructions first … don’t start the tests until I tell you to begin …’
Who the hell does he think he is? He’s only a kid.
‘I want you to stand with your feet together, hands by your side and lean your head … Mrs Pozos, please wait until I’m finished before you begin …’
‘Sorry, I’m just nervous, I’m not used to this.’
Concentrate, concent
rate.
‘Okay, next one. See this pen I’m holding? I want you to follow the pen with your eyes without moving your head … look left … look more left …’
‘Are we finished now?’ Julia asked wearily. She was perspiring. Her feet were aching in her shoes. Maybe she should have taken them off after all.
‘I’ve one last test … put your hands behind your back, please.’
She obeyed with a sigh.
‘And interlace your fingers …’
She felt cool metal against her warm wrists.
‘I’m arresting you for driving under the influence of alcohol.’
‘What? You can’t do this to me! I’m fine, I’m perfectly sober!’ she protested furiously as he opened the back door of his car.
‘Please, spare me. I hear it all the time. I know a DUI when I see one. I can almost guess what your reading will be when we get back to the station.’
‘These handcuffs are hurting me … they’re too tight,’ she complained, trying to move them so they didn’t pinch her skin. They moved marginally, exposing red marks on her wrists.
‘They weren’t built for comfort,’ he answered un-sympathetically.
He made her wait in the back of his car while he filled in some forms. He didn’t appear to be in any kind of hurry to complete the paperwork. He didn’t care about her discomfort. Her legs were cramped; she was belted into an unyielding plastic seat. The seat was surrounded by a wire mesh. A cage.
‘What do you want me to do with your car? Will I get it towed for you?’ He turned in his seat to face her through the plastic window that separated the front of the car from the back. She was so furious that she found it hard to speak to him. ‘It’s okay where it is. I live down this street. What’s going to happen now?’
He started the car and looked back at her through the rear-view mirror. ‘We’re going to jail.’
‘You’re not serious … I’ve already told you that I’m not drunk,’ she argued, knowing it was futile but not able to help herself.
‘We’ll see who’s right when we do the tests back at the station,’ he answered.
The smugness in his voice irritated her even more. ‘What tests?’