by T A Ford
“No. I just said I want someone who understands my culture. That’s all. I’m not a racist.”
“Okay. Let’s see here. Dr. Walsh has gone over your treatment with me. Can you tell me a little about your daily routines?”
“There were some things he taught me. Like ‘Always expect the unexpected’ and ‘Be willing to accept risk.’ We talked of distressing exercises.”
“Like?”
“How to count when I felt scared. How to meditate to clear my mind. Meditation was the best lesson.”
“That’s helpful. Anything else?”
“Always try to agree with an obsessive thought, is what Doc says.”
“Doc? You call him Doc?”
She frowned. “I meant Dr. Walsh, of course. Please don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking. It’s rude. Allow me to finish a thought.”
“My apologies,” he said.
She sighed.
“Never analyze, argue or question my inner voice. My inner voice can be heard. That has really helped my impulses. I don’t yell out words as much, and when I feel my anxiety coming, I kind of just go with it and let it pass instead of giving into it. That is all.”
“He has you on very low doses of Sertraline and Paroxetine. Any side effects?”
“I had some diarrhea and indigestion at first. My sleeping habits were off. He took me off Zoloft and that helped.”
“Sounds about right.” Dr. Robinson closed the folder he jotted notes in. “Tell me about your personal relationships. The new ones you made since therapy.”
“What? That’s none of your business!”
“I read in our file your family history. I know you have social anxiety. Pretty severe response you had with your previous employer.”
“That’s in my file?” she frowned.
“Are you making relationships, are you in a relationship?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“True. But it helps me understand your progress.”
“I have an interview tomorrow with an accounting firm. I plan to get the job. And when I do, I will make better relationships. That is the plan. Now do you understand?”
“It’s a good plan.” The doctor took off his glasses and stared at her with concern. “Am I upsetting you?”
“I just don’t understand the interrogation.”
“I want to get to know you. To help you. So, we’ll schedule these sessions twice a week.”
“That’s too much!” Dina said.
“It’s just to start out. A relationship with your therapist is a tough one to build from scratch. You said you left Dr. Walsh because you needed a better connection with someone who understands you. This is the first step. Think of it like the dating phase of a new relationship. We figure out if we have good chemistry. If we don’t, I will help you find a better partner on your mental health journey.”
“Is this voluntary? Do I have to see you to stay on my meds?”
“Well I—”
“I don’t want to be forced into a relationship with a nosey body. It was hard enough dealing with the old one!” she snapped.
The doctor frowned. Shocked by her admission, she quickly tried to recover. “I left Dr. Walsh because he kept trying to get too personal. No. I didn’t mean that. I left Dr. Walsh because he wanted me to dig into my personal. My family issues are mine. I.... no, it’s not what I mean. I am doing my best.”
“Did Dr. Walsh do something to make you uncomfortable?”
“Huh? That’s not what I said. He’s doing, or he did, what you do, or did, or does when you do it. You know what I’m trying to say. Get in my head. Make me talk about stuff when I don’t want to. I thought you would be different. You doctors are all the same!”
“Okay,” Dr. Robinson put down his pen. “Can we make a deal? Two sessions a week for three weeks. If after three weeks you don’t like the routine, we can reduce the number of sessions.”
She rubbed her temples and tried hard to relax herself. For some reason, this doctor was agitating her and she didn’t understand why. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, Dina. I look forward to seeing you again.”
“I don’t.”
She got her purse and walked out. She went straight to the door and then the garage. It wasn’t until she was in her car that she burst into tears. This wasn’t paranoia or simple anxiety she was feeling. It was pure fear. If she screwed this up, all the happiness she’d earned in the past months would disappear. If she lost Doc she didn’t know how she’d recover. Is that the reason why it was wrong to fall in love your psychiatrist?
She cried in the car all the way to the Flamenco Dance Studio. She sat in her Acura until she knew she was calm enough to pretend. Inside the dance academy, she was immediately greeted by Marissa and pretended to enjoy their conversation. It wasn’t until Matteo came to her and told her of the new idea he had for her lesson that she let some of her anxiety go. She dressed and focused on the happy things in her life. Matteo’s dance lessons were one of them.
CUE WALKED INTO THE dance studio. The students had taken over the class. Most of them started when he did. Tonight, the women took the lead. And among the eight was his Dina. She did her footwork and poses almost to perfection. She’d improved hugely over the past few months, but she was still a bit off-beat. Dina performed to the music in her head, not the music the band played. He smiled as the dance troupe barely noticed. They danced and Dina danced her own way. The women departed and Dina remained.
Matteo joined her again. Cue was reminded why he hated the guy and had ultimately quit the classes. He was all over Dina. The hugs, squeezes, seductive dance maneuvers didn’t give Dina much room to perform. She was Matteo’s doll to be played with. Agitated, Cue looked away. He’d spent half the afternoon in his favorite bar sulking over her going to a new therapist. He had too many drinks. He could feel the liquor amping up his rage issues. The very first thing he would do after the performance would be to take Matteo aside for a short chat.
After the show the students all celebrated their performances with hugs and tears. Cue found Dina among them, smiling and accepting praise graciously. He made his way closer. Their eyes met and her smile faded. His beautiful girl wasn’t as happy to see him as she normally was. He walked over to speak to her, and she looked away.
“Excuse me,” she said and turned and left. Confused, Cue went after her, but Matteo stepped in front of him.
“Dr. Walsh right? The student who quit.”
“What?”
“You were a student a few months ago? You withdrew.”
“So?” Cue asked.
“So, this is a private, invite only, rehearsal. If you aren’t here as a student, you shouldn’t be here, period.”
“He’s with me,” Dina said. Matteo looked back to see Dina had rejoined them. She was standing there with her coat and dance bag. He smiled graciously at her. He whispered in Dina’s ear and she nodded. She gave him the smile that Cue thought should only belong to him.
“Everyone is going to celebrate at El Toro’s this evening. You two should come. We’re talking about doing Columbia next year. And then Spain. Taking the flamenco back to the motherland.”
“I’m sorry Matteo, I can’t go. I have to leave now,” Dina said, picking up on Cue’s mood without him speaking. Did he really look that bad?
“Dina, oh no please,” Matteo stepped in front of her and put his hands to her shoulders. It was the final straw for Cue. He pulled Matteo’s arm to possibly tell him to back off. But Matteo anticipated his touch. He whirled around with a two-hand shove straight to Cue’s chest. Before Cue stumbled, he recovered by delivering a forceful punch directly at Matteo’s jaw. He fist connected with more power than intended. Matteo staggered, then fell flat to his back.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Cue snarled.
“Doc! No! Stop!” Dina said.
He stood over Matteo and pointed a finger at him. “She quits. You hear me motherfucker? She quits this fuckin
g sideshow!”
“Doc! Please,” Dina wept.
“Get out! I will call the police! Get out now!” Marissa shouted.
Everyone was helping Matteo. The members of the band who played for the dancers glared at Cue, one cursing him in Spanish and challenging him to a fight, the other wielding his guitar like a bat ready to strike. He’d been in some tight spots before with Rodney, but he rarely resorted to violence.
Dina walked past him and headed straight for the door.
“Shit,” he mumbled and went after.
“Stay away from me,” she said, walking fast on the sidewalk to the parking garage.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Stay away from me!” she shouted through her tears. She raced to her Acura ahead of him. To keep from distressing her more, he kept his distance. It broke him to see her drive away and leave him behind. He got in his car trying to understand his actions. He’d been drinking all day. He knew his limits. Today he ignored them. He was on edge over handing her over to another doctor. There was so much at stake for him and her. The message from her brother was even worse. His friend was pissed that he wasn’t answering his calls. Soon he’d have to tell Rodney what was going on with him and Dina, and then he was certain it would all implode.
When he arrived to the condo, he parked next to her Acura and went to her door first. He wanted to use his key, but tried knocking first.
“Dina?” he said. “Dina, sweetheart open the door. Talk to me.”
Cue pushed the doorbell. He knew the camera had him on screen. She had to know it was him. He even sensed she was close and watching. It was just part of the connection he shared with her.
“Dina? I’m sorry sweetheart. I lost control. Please open the door. I won’t use my key. I won’t force you to talk to me. I’m pleading for a chance.”
The door opened. Dina wiped her tears. “Why did you embarrass me like that and make me quit my dancing?”
“I’m sorry. You can take the classes.”
“Not anymore. You hurt Matteo. You’re worse than Rodney. And you’re a doctor. You know better.”
“I know. I do. I’m so sorry baby.”
“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” She tried to close the door. Cue threw up his hand and forced it to open partially despite her efforts.
“Please Dina. I love you so much. Please let me come in and fix this. Please.”
“You smell like alcohol. Not beer. Have you been drinking?”
“Just a little today. I was worried about you going to another doctor. I didn’t handle it well. I’m sorry.”
She nodded and stepped back. He came inside and she went into his arms before he closed the door. She cried her heart out against his chest. The only way to move her was to pick her up. He carried her to the sofa and sat. She sat on his lap.
“You were late, was it because you were drinking?”
“I tried to be there to see all of your performance. Hey, I don’t drink a lot. Just sometimes. I’m okay.”
“I can never go back there. I’m so embarrassed.”
“I’ll apologize. I will fix it with Matteo.”
She shook her head. “I can’t go back there. People will know. I can’t.”
“Dina... listen. This is me not you. I’m sorry.”
She looked at him. Her eyes were puffy from an evening of crying. “What did you tell the new doctor about me? About my condition?”
“Everything. He’s a good doctor.”
“No!” she got up from his lap. “This is us, we are a team. And you just hand me over to a complete stranger. Give him all of my personal business!” She paced with her arms crossed. He sat forward and stared up at her, trying to understand what made her so distressed. Was it the doctor’s visit, or his attacking Matteo? Or both?
“I’m listening,” he said.
“Don’t do that!”
“What?”
“Doctor speak! You’re not my doctor. You’re my boyfriend! You’re supposed to protect me. You just told that man about my family and the things in my head. You betrayed me.”
“This is how it works. How things are done.”
“I need protection, not psychotherapy. Rodney understands. He protected me without humiliating me. He understood. And you, you are supposed to be my boyfriend. You’re supposed to be better than any of them. Different.”
“Dina. Be reasonable. This is me protecting you.”
“No,” she paced. “Rodney understands. Rodney understands.”
“Dina?”
“Stop!” she shouted at him. She went up the stairs to her bedroom. Cue understood at last. He dropped back on the sofa and sighed. He had blown it. And if he wasn’t hiding his own struggles from her, she’d know he wasn’t some superhero or savior, just a man that loved her. A terribly flawed man. The best thing for her was for him to leave. Let her work through her anger and disappointment. Give her the space so she could continue to develop her coping skills. The better thing would be for him to stop lying to Rodney and tell him his sister needed him. Set up boundaries where her brother was her support system, not her psychiatrist. All of these things went through his head as he walked up the stairs instead of to the front door. And all of those things he dismissed. He went into the bedroom just as she finished undressing. She got in the bed wearing nothing. She pulled the covers over her head and turned away from him.
Cue undressed. Completely. He got in the bed with her and scooted in close. He was slow to remove the cover from her head. He kissed her shoulder. She turned over and kissed him on the mouth fully. Her hand went to his dick. He eased over her and she guided him inside of her. Cue heart was pounding up into his throat blocking his ability to breathe freely. He panted with desire. His tongue swept into her mouth and she welcomed the kiss. Deep lunges and sweeps of her tongue rolling over his. Every differing adjustment or movement of their mouths against each other deepened his sadness. He sighed against her mouth wanting to breathe his confidence and reassurance into her. No matter the physical pleasure and exertion going through him, her kisses were the most beautiful part of her. She clung to him and gave her body over to him in the sweetest way. Cue drove himself into her all the way to the root of his dick. Holy, hell it felt so good to him. He groaned from both pleasure and dark satisfaction. She was his. No other man, therapist, anyone could take her from him. And he made love to her until he could stand no more. He lay in her arms against her breast afterwards.
“You’re right. I should protect you. I promise you I will. Dr. Robinson is the doctor we pretend with. You and I will do this together.”
“I just want to be happy.”
“We are. We will be.”
“I’m done with flamenco dancing.”
“No. Don’t quit,” he pleaded.
“You don’t like Matteo. I can tell.”
“It doesn’t matter what I like.”
“It matters to me. I won’t go. I’ll focus on convincing Dr. Robinson I’m okay with his therapy. And besides. I have an interview in two days. A job. I’m getting ready for the new improved me.”
He kissed her breast and laid his head against her heart. He felt himself relax and she held him as he drifted to sleep. In his dream he was sober, and she was his wife. She had the kids she wanted and he had the peace he could never seem to gain. He was happy. It was all a dream.
Chapter Fourteen
Happiness Is Temporary
“Hello Dina, you look happy today.” Dr. Robinson said as he walked into the room.
“I am!” she turned around and faced him. “I have the best news.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I got the job. I got a call this morning and they told me I start after Thanksgiving. I got the job! All by myself!”
“That’s fantastic. Have you told anyone yet? Your brother?” Dr. Robinson asked.
“No. I have to tell Cue. He’s going to be so happy for me.”
“Cue?
Who is Cue?” Dr. Robinson asked.
“Who?”
“You said Cue?”
“Did I?”
“Yes,” the doctor said.
She shrugged. “I meant Rodney.”
“Dina... are you keeping something from me?” Robinson pressed.
“Uhm, no. I get confused in my head. I meant to say Rodney.”
“Well, have a seat. Let’s talk about your last visit. The things we agreed upon. I want to hear your progress.”
She smiled and walked over to the comfy chair and sat down. She was bubbling with excitement. The moment she was free of her doctor’s visit, she would call and tell Doc her news. She couldn’t wait.
“DR. WALSH?” MOLLY SAID.
Cue quickly clicked off the screen. He nodded for her to come in. She brought in his office mail and looked at him. “Your three o’clock cancelled. Do you need anything? I was thinking of leaving early to get ahead of the holiday.”
“Nope. Thank you, Molly,” he said. He waited until she was gone to click back on his mouse. There was always a timer when playing poker online. He had to get back in the game to submit his hand. The pot wasn’t high as he wanted it to be. If he won this hand he’d break even.
He didn’t.
“Shit.”
He’d just lost ten thousand dollars. Cue dropped his head back and let go a deep strained breath. The phone rang in his office. “Dr. Walsh,” he answered.
“Why the fuck have you been avoiding me?”
“Rodney?”
“Yea it’s fucking Rodney! Man, what the hell is wrong with you? I’ve left you seven messages. And plenty of texts to your phone. I know you saw them motherfucker. You ain’t returned my call in two weeks!”
“I’m sorry bro. Lots been going on.”
“Fuck that! What is going on with my sister?”
“She’s fine. She’s doing good.”
“Doing good? Is that all you can say? What is going on with her? I talk to her the other morning and she said she had a job interview, and now she text me that she has the job? You know what happened on her last job? Why is she interviewing?!”