Blind Delusion

by Dorothy Phaire

  Renee willed herself to put these memories aside for now. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sat still on the floor with her eyes closed. She listened to the sound of her controlled breathing. Between sets of deep inhalations of air and slow exhalations, she counted by two’s until reaching the number ten. While focusing on her counting and breathing she pictured herself in a peaceful meadow, with a running stream, singing birds, and a warm breeze on her neck. Time seemed to stand still as a wave of relaxation and calmness washed over her. Once she felt back in control, she grabbed hold of the sides of the sink and lifted herself from the floor. Leaning over the porcelain bowl, she splashed cold water on her face several times until her cheeks tingled, and then she patted her face dry. Renee stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror to make sure she would appear okay to the outside world. Only then did she reappear at the doorway of her office, slightly red-eyed and with flushed cheeks. She glanced at the clock on the wall, relieved that she had only been in the bathroom for five minutes though it seemed longer during her relaxation exercise.

  “Are you all right, Doctor?” asked Mr. Hollingsworth, rising from his chair to come to her aid if necessary. He didn’t notice his wife glaring at him, but Renee saw it.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Renee, returning to her desk and reaching for an appointment book, “But would you both mind if we ended our session a little early today? I can see everyone tomorrow at the same time.”

  Mrs. Hollingsworth shot Renee an angry look as she tapped the face of her wristwatch. “I paid for an hour’s session, Dr. Hayes. We still have ten minutes. What do you plan to do for my daughter, Doctor? I want to know before I leave here. I’ve already given up a morning’s worth of work to be here.”

  Nothing surprised Renee anymore, not even this woman’s callous reaction to her daughter’s situation and how she managed to turn it around to be all about her.

  Renee took a deep breathe and folded her hands on her desk before answering. “First of all you should know that I’m not here to tell any of you what to do, but only to try to get you all to talk to each other and decide the best thing for Heather,” said Renee, feeling very much in control again. “She’s still a child herself and like any child, she needs love, attention, and guidance, not constant criticism,” said Renee, looking directly at Mrs. Hollingsworth.

  “I’m sorry that I can’t wrap things up neat and tidy for you today, Mrs. Hollingsworth. I feel I’ll need another five or six sessions of private counseling with Heather to get to what she wants first before I can advise you about what decision you need to make as a family.”

  “That’s almost two more months!” shouted Mrs. Hollingsworth, “What the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime? Heather will still be pregnant and the problem won’t be resolved. I’m all about problem resolution. That’s what I do for a living and that’s what I’m good at. This is a bunch of bull crap.”

  Mr. Hollingsworth held his wife’s arm to calm her down, “Please, Hope, Dear. Let the doctor speak.”

  “I don’t give a damn what she has to say,” said Mrs. Hollingsworth, “I’m the one in charge here, not Heather and not this … outsider! Nobody seems to care how I feel.”

  “You may not want to hear it, but this really is Heather’s decision, Mr. and Mrs. Hollingsworth,” said Renee gently, “Legally, no one can be forced or pressured into having an abortion, not even a minor. She needs your help and guidance in making the right decision and understanding what the impact of that decision will be. But in the end, it is up to her to decide.” Renee paused for her words to sink in. “I’d like to see Heather alone next Monday if I have your permission. Is that all right with you, Heather?” asked Renee, smiling.

  The girl looked at Renee for the first time and nodded. She straightened up in her seat a little. Renee felt she had achieved some degree of trust from her new patient.

  “And what about you, Parents? Do you agree to allow me to counsel your daughter?”

  “Yes, Dr. Hayes,” Mr. Hollingsworth spoke up, “Thank you for your concern.”

  Mrs. Hollingsworth let out a defeated sigh and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

  “Heather, I want you to understand that your parents love you and only want what’s best for you,” said Renee, “I’m not excluding them and they will be with you during some of our meetings. Ultimately, you and your parents will decide what’s best for you, not me. Though I will offer advice.”

  “Dr. Hayes, what can my wife and I do in the meantime to help?”

  Renee asked Heather to wait outside in the reception area while she talked to her parents alone. After Heather left, Renee gave the Hollingsworths her candid analysis of the situation based on their initial meeting and studying the school’s background report. She told the parents the two main problems she saw within the family were that there was no communication and Heather had exhibited signs of self-esteem issues. Their child needed attention and guidance. Heather’s cousin had given her attention but for all the wrong reasons, to take advantage of her vulnerability and the parents had been oblivious. Now, Mrs. Hollingsworth wanted to erase the problem away and start with a clean slate as if nothing had ever happened, but that wasn’t possible. Mrs. Hollingsworth looked indignant when she spoke up.

  “What about all those outside activities I had her involved in? Tennis, swimming, soccer, you name it,” wailed Mrs. Hollingsworth, “I paid our maid extra to make sure she got to practice and events. But Heather never excelled in sports like I did when I was her age because all she does is eat junk food, lay around all day and watch TV. She’s so much like her father. I tell her about this all the time but nobody can get through to that thick-headed, stubborn kid.”

  “Mrs. Hollingsworth these activities would be great if Heather enjoyed doing them. But they’re just fillers. Things to keep her busy so you don’t have to spend time with her yourself.”

  Mrs. Hollingsworth nearly jumped from her seat upon hearing Renee’s interpretation of her motives. Instead, she clinched her jaw tightly and kept silent for a change. She didn’t like hearing what Renee had to say, but finally Renee was able to get both parents to admit they’d been too busy with their own lives to supervise the two teenagers and spend quality time with them. Mr. Hollingsworth traveled frequently on business and Mrs. Hollingsworth was usually out and about, concerned with making more money and achieving more power and prestige in her career. Just like the pattern they had assumed with Heather, when her cousin came to stay with them, they focused on other priorities and left the boy to his own devices. Like Heather, he didn’t make friends in the new high school. Heather didn’t have friends either so the two of them clung to each other for attention and acceptance.

  Renee told the parents that just from this initial visit she could tell their entire family existed in a disconnected household. She gave them suggestions on how to improve communication. Everything Renee explained was common knowledge to parenting experts and child psychologists. Basically, they needed to spend quality time with their child, not just the time spent taking her to and from events or activities. And the passive activity of watching TV together should not be considered quality time. Renee urged each of the parents to focus on their daughter. She described how they could create a ritual of family night. Even if all they could spare was 15-minutes, it would be time Heather would learn to expect. During their family time, no one should answer phones or pagers, logon to the computer, or think about other things they had to do. Also, it would be counterproductive to use family quality time to criticize Heather or tell her what she should or should not be doing. Criticism would just undermine their few minutes of quality time together. A good family night might consist of talking, playing board games, cooking together or anything that they all enjoyed doing as a family. Family quality time would have also helped her nephew feel like part of the family. After hearing Renee’s observations, the parents s
at mute with guilt-ridden faces.

  “Please understand me, Mr. and Mrs. Hollingsworth, I’m not blaming you for what happened to Heather and your nephew,” said Renee gently, “It’s useless to sit around assigning blame. I just want you to be aware of how the pregnancy could have happened, and to help you adopt ways to prevent it from ever happening again.”

  “I know, Doctor,” said Mr. Hollingsworth, looking down at his folded hands.

  “During the next private session with your daughter, I hope to find out what Heather’s needs are, and where her head is, so to speak,” explained Renee, “Later, I want her to begin to understand the implications of any decision she may make. That’s where I’d like you both to be involved in helping her break down the logic in her reasoning and choices.”

  “That’s all fine doctor, but how are we going to solve the problem now?” asked Mrs. Hollingsworth, “That’s what we’re here for today, isn’t it?”

  “Basically, the choices come down to either she will have the baby or not. If she decides to have it, the next decision will be to keep it or not,” said Renee, “These are important decisions that ultimately Heather and you, her parents must make.”

  “But why on earth would she want to keep it?” asked Mrs. Hollingsworth.

  “I can’t answer that. My primary objective is to get your family communicating as quickly as possible. I’d like to help you both as parents to build a bond with Heather so she no longer feels like she’s alone whenever there’s a crisis in her life. Then mother, father, and daughter can work things out together and decide what’s best for Heather.”

  “So you don’t intend to make her see reason during your private sessions with her?”

  Renee sighed. “I don’t think you’re hearing me, Mrs. Hollingsworth. That’s not my job. I’m not going to make the decision for Heather,” said Renee. “I wouldn’t want someone else to do that to me.”

  Finally, the session was over and the Hollingsworths left. Thank God they were gone. She asked Brenda to hold her calls for the next fifteen minutes and take a message if anyone called. She stumbled over to the coach and collapsed, then buried her head within folded arms. She tried to listen to the cheerful melody of Mozart’s flute concerto in D major that played softly from piped in speakers, but it was no use. She leaned back and lay down on the couch with her eyes closed. The whirring noise of the ceiling fan above her head reminded her of the sound the equipment had made in the doctor’s back room. When the disturbing images in her head started to reappear, her breathing became constricted once again and her heart beat accelerated. Renee recognized her symptoms as an anxiety attack and knew she was not actually having a heart attack though a non-medical person might think that, so she didn’t want to worry Brenda who she knew would dial 911. Renee did not want to call 911 because the licensing board, at worst, could revoke her license to treat patients. At best she could be put on probation or get suspended. She knew just what she needed in order to stop these anxiety attacks and drive away the bad memories. She retrieved her cell phone from her jacket pocket and called her mentor and psychiatrist, Dr. Helen Stone. Dr. Stone picked up on the first ring.

  “Helen, I need to talk to someone professionally. Do you have anyone that you can recommend?”

  “Are you all right, Dear?” Helen asked.

  “No. Actually, I’m not,” said Renee, fighting back her tears.

  “You can talk to me, Renee. We’ve known each other for years, professionally and personally. Are you feeling depressed or overwhelmed by something?”

  “Not exactly. Well, I’m not really sure.”

  “This sounds serious. I have an opening this morning at 11:30. Does that sound good for you?”

  “Yes. Thank You, Helen.”

  “Okay, then, Honey. Here’s my new address. I’ve recently relocated to a new office downtown on K Street,” said Helen and read off the address.

  “I’ll be there,” said Renee, solemnly.

  “All right, Dear, I’ll see you at eleven thirty.”

  “Right. Good-bye Helen and thanks again for seeing me on such short notice.”

  Renee opened the door that led into the reception area and instructed Brenda to reschedule all of her afternoon appointments. She didn’t know what time she would return to the office and probably would not feel like seeing clients. She told Brenda she could lock up and leave for the day once all the afternoon appointments had been rescheduled. Renee felt bad about being distracted throughout the Hollingsworths’ visit that morning, but she was in no position to help anyone today. Typically, she focused entirely on the patient by raising her eyes to the speaker and not withdrawing her attention until he or she finished speaking. But after suddenly remembering what Aunt Clara did to her when she was sixteen, she couldn’t concentrate. She grabbed her navy London Fog trench coat from the closet and went upstairs to exit out the front door of the main house, avoiding Brenda’s questions and the look of worry on her secretary’s face.

  Chapter 12

  As Renee drove towards downtown K Street, she saw that a late morning drizzle had left a smoky-colored mist over the sky that made it difficult to see clearly. Rain brought out even more than Washington’s usual road-raged drivers locked in bumper-to-bumper traffic. As a psychologist trained in the Jungian school of thought, Renee had been taught to cure herself first before treating others. She had suffered from bouts of depression before but nothing had triggered the memory of the traumatic time in her life before the session with Heather and her parents. There was something about that woman, Mrs. Hollingsworth, that had reminded her of Aunt Clara’s reaction to news of her own teenage pregnancy. Suddenly, everything had come flooding back to her. Physician heal thyself. She knew the familiar maxim all too well. Her mentor and now colleague, Dr. Helen Stone, had agreed to see her right away this morning. If Helen urged her to dig deeper, would Renee like what she found underneath the superficial surface that she presented to the world? Would she be able to accept the truth about herself? Would she be able to slay her own dragons? Face her own demons? How else would she be able to begin healing and start living a life she wanted and not one that had been mapped out for her—programmed into her subconscious?

  Renee parked her car in the only spot available several blocks away from Helen’s office and walked briskly through the light rain as the wind swept through her trench coat. As she walked, she tried not to think about that doctor’s house located in a backwoods country town where her aunt had taken her to have an abortion without her knowledge. She focused on her breathing, inhaling deep breaths then letting each breath out slowly to try to forget. It didn’t work. Renee blinked several times to clear away the onset of tears that had begun to blend in with the rain’s light drizzle falling on her cheeks. She couldn’t shake her feelings of helplessness amidst so many disturbing thoughts that she found difficult to handle on her own right now. She glanced down at her watch and saw she was early for her appointment with Helen.

  Renee entered the security-guarded building fifteen minutes early and took the elevator to the 5th floor. She walked into Dr. Helen Stone’s office feeling even worse than before. Fortunately, the waiting lounge was empty when she arrived and she had a few minutes alone to collect herself before the receptionist returned from her break or wherever she was at the moment.

  After several minutes of waiting alone in the reception area, Helen herself appeared to invite Renee into her counseling chamber. Helen explained that she was lacking a receptionist at the moment. Her secretary had not been able to make the move to the new location and had resigned. Renee stammered an apology for making this last minute appointment, but Helen’s smile and warm, amber eyes immediately put her at ease. Helen was dressed in a tweed, calf-length skirt and maroon turtleneck sweater that give a bit of color to her pale complexion. Renee draped her raincoat across a nearby chair and sat down. While Helen poured them both a
cup of herbal tea, Renee studied her colleague’s new office. Potted, floor plants bursting with healthy foliage filled the room. A row of hanging plants lined the window and more potted greenery competed with books for shelf space on the floor-to-ceiling case. Renee almost felt like she was in a tropical rain forest. Pastel pink walls, impressionist paintings, and ocean sea breeze music playing in the background further added to the room’s tranquil effect. Renee closed her eyes for a moment as her nose delighted in a pleasant aroma of potpourri and relaxing tea blends. Did she really want to be here and face the truth—reveal old wounds that she had shut out years ago? Renee experienced a brief tightness in her chest. She gripped the arms of the chair and thought about getting up and fleeing the session.

  Helen sipped her tea in silence as she watched Renee. Renee understood the doctor/patient dance well enough and knew that Helen was waiting patiently for Renee to open up. That morning’s session with the family of a pregnant teen had unlocked Renee’s memory of an unpleasant event that she had long forgotten as a self-protection mechanism. Now she remembered more and more details of that particular time in her past. She gradually began to feel comfortable sharing those details with her psychiatrist. Renee told Helen what happened to her that summer in high school when she was sixteen. Everything came out in a jumbled blur.

  “For the first time I remembered my high school boyfriend, Randolph. He and I were walking hand-in-hand to Memco Department store to buy our unborn baby’s first outfit, yellow knit booties, matching sweater and cap,” said Renee, gazing into her folded hands, “I fear that was my last chance to be a mother.”

  “How does that make you feel?”

  “I feel like I'm being punished,” said Renee, “I should have been able to stop Aunt Clara somehow.” Renee began to sob into her hands. She accepted the tissue that Helen handed her. She heard Helen pouring a glass of water from the pitcher and place the glass on the edge of the desk in front of her, but she didn’t look up. Suddenly, in Renee’s mind it was July 1972 again. Aunt Clara’s voice permeated her thoughts.