The Sins Duet

by Abbi Cook

  He's silent for so long I begin to worry that at any moment he'll say he won't see me anymore. If he says that, I don't know what I'll do. I'm not above begging him for a second chance. I need to find out why my mind is making me think these bizarre things.

  Finally, Dr. Trevino nods again and says with a smile, "Okay. We can start over again. Hi, my name is Jacob Trevino. It's very nice to meet you."

  His acceptance makes me want to leap out of my chair to hug him. He extends his hand with his hello, so I shake it and introduce myself, honestly this time. "Hi. My name is Natalie. Natalie Tarrigan Anchoff. It's very nice to meet you too. So my husband never called you or came here to tell you not to see me anymore?"

  "No. I haven't had anyone do either of those things about any of my patients. If I may ask, who is Lauren Tarrigan? Is that a name associated with your nightmares?" Dr. Trevino asks before he jots something down in his notes.

  I can't help but smile, partly out of relief that he hasn't forced me to leave. Shaking my head, I answer, "No, Lauren is my sister. She’s the one who disappeared a few months ago. We’ve never heard from her again, but even though the police don’t have any leads, I still hold out hope we’ll see her again."

  "I'm so sorry, Natalie. It's hard on the people left behind. How are you handling that?"

  "It feels like I should say I'm struggling with it, but I don't know if how I feel would be correctly described as struggling. I miss her. I don't understand why she ran away. But I'm not like my other sister, Claire. She was much closer to Lauren, so her leaving hit her hard. She's been depressed since we found out."

  Dr. Trevino sighs. Of all the topics we've discussed in our sessions so far, this is the most serious. "It's hard to understand why anyone would leave without a word to those they love, but your sister must have been going through something troubling to simply leave her life and all of you behind. There wasn’t any foul play involved, was there?"

  I shake my head, quickly dispelling that possibility. “I don’t think so. The police have never said they think that. She just ran away, and we’ve never seen her again. To be honest, I sort of envy her sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it sounds so freeing to just be able to leave your life behind. The idea of going somewhere new and starting fresh sounds so good to me these days.”

  He says something about the hidden stresses that people endure, but I can't imagine what those could be for someone so young with no one but herself to please. Then I think of my mother and correct myself. She had her to please too.

  "I found her diary recently when I was at my mother's house. Lauren slept in my old room, so I was in there one day. I've read through a few entries, and I haven't found anything to explain why she would want to escape from anything. I want to understand, but I don't know if I ever will."

  "You may not. That's the hardest part of being one of the people left behind. If the person never returns or calls to let us know why they left, we often don't ever really know the truth of what they were going through."

  I want to tell him about how Lauren wrote about being pressured by my mother, but it doesn't feel right to do that. For all my mother's faults, I can't believe she was the reason my sister ran away. So instead, I change the subject.

  "I had another waking dream yesterday. This time I was at my mother's house in my father's study, but it was the same scene, or basically the same scene with my husband and her arguing over some papers."

  The doctor makes a note of the details before looking up at me. "Your husband and mother figure prominently in your nightmares and waking dreams. Why do you think that is?"

  I don't have to ponder long about the answer. It's obvious. "They're the two people who figure most prominently in my life, so it seems logical, I guess."

  Instead of agreeing with me, he asks, "What about your sisters? You've mentioned one, Claire. And there's Lauren. You have one more, right? Are you close to them?"

  "I'm very close to Claire. Always have been. She's the only person I can trust with many things about what's been happening to me. She's the person who got me to see someone about what's been going on. I was close to Lauren, but she and I were never as close as Claire and she were. Claire watched over her like a mother hen. I'm the oldest, and Lauren was the youngest. Then there's Tess, but no one is very close to her. Except my mother, of course, because she's the favorite."

  "Why do you say that?" he asks, clearly interested in my description of Tess.

  "Because she is. She's done exactly what my mother has wanted with her life. She married well, had children almost immediately, and now she lives a good life. Claire married well, but she doesn't have children yet. It has only been a few years since they married, but still no kids. And me? I've been married for over six years, and we have no children. There aren’t any prospects of that on the horizon either. To my mother, Tess is living the kind of life she's supposed to be. Claire and I aren't. Either was Lauren."

  I watch as he writes notes about each of my sisters and details on their lives before he nods his head and says, "Your family tends to marry very young. You're only twenty-six, and you're the oldest, right?"

  "We do," I answer with a smile. "It's old-fashioned, to say the least, I guess. My sisters and I each married our husbands before we were twenty years old."

  "How old is Lauren?"

  "She’s nearly seventeen now."

  Those words—nearly seventeen—filter through my mind and I think about how we’d be celebrating her birthday coming up in just a few months. Nearly seventeen and already out in a world I can’t seem to handle at my age.

  "You and your sisters didn't give your mother a hard time about marrying so young? It's quite the opposite of what most mothers want. Nineteen-year-old young women often date the kind of males who aren't ready for marriage."

  I smile because his question is one I've gotten ever since I married Adam. "Oh, no. My sisters and I didn't marry boys. We all married men who have established careers. My husband is fifteen years older than me. Tess and Claire's husbands are about that much older than them too."

  "Oh. That's a sizeable age gap for a young woman. How did all three of you meet men so much older than yourselves?" Dr. Trevino asks as he writes something in his notes.

  Sheepishly, I answer, "I don't know. That's part of the problem and the reason I'm here. I can't remember how I met my husband, and now that I think of it, I don't think I can say I know how my sisters met theirs either. I don't think that's because of my injury, though. I was busy with my life being newly married, so I wasn't really paying attention to what my sisters were doing back home."

  He looks up and smiles. "Completely understandable. So you and your sisters fell out of contact for a few years but then became close again? Claire, at least?"

  "No. Claire and I have always been close."

  The doctor narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "Then how is it you don't know how she met her husband?"

  His question takes me aback. I don't know the answer. That makes no sense. How is that possible?

  "I don't know, but except for when she and my other sisters went to Europe one summer, there isn't a time when she and I haven't spoken at least a few times a week."

  "Okay. We'll keep that in mind as we explore the breaks in your memory, the nightmares, and the waking dreams. Don't be too hard on yourself. Twenty-six years of life is a lot to remember."

  I know he's trying to be supportive, like a therapist should, but as I sit here listening to him talk about how the human brain processes ideas and memories, I can't help but think something's very wrong with me. How could I forget something as important as how Claire met Albert?

  "Natalie, now that I know your real name, if I can get a hold of your medical records about your head injury, that may help me understand what's going on. Before you leave, I'm going to have you sign a release form so I can get those."

  Nodding, I agree to his request, hoping it might help him help me. "Okay
."

  "So, I have in my notes for today's session that you said you needed to see me as soon as possible. Was it about that waking dream you experienced at your mother's house?"

  Avoiding his gaze, I answer, "Yes and no."

  "Okay. Would you like to talk about the waking dream or the other reason for today's session? The choice is completely up to you."

  I'm embarrassed to say the other reason for being there today. What kind of woman wants to admit her husband is turning into something she doesn't recognize right before her eyes?

  "Can I tell you after I describe the waking dream? I'm not trying to lie or avoid telling you the truth. I'd just rather talk about the waking dream first, if that's okay."

  Dr. Trevino shrugs and gives me a smile. "That's okay with me. Just tell me anything you can remember about the waking dream and what you were doing right before it manifested in front of you in your father's study. That's where you said you saw it, right?"

  I swallow hard and nod. "Yes. I hadn't been in that room in ages, since I was a little girl. My father died when I was very young, so I have no real memory of him, but that room always made me feel like I had a closeness with my father that I couldn't have."

  "This is new. You haven't had any waking dreams occur in places other than your house, right?" he asks as he makes an asterisk next to that point in his notes.

  "Yeah. Every other one has been at home. This had the same theme, though. My mother and Adam, my husband, were in my father's study arguing about something in papers he held in his hands. She was nothing less than smug, smiling and pointing at the papers, and he looked very unhappy. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I was there sitting in a chair a few feet away."

  Dr. Trevino's eyes grow wide, and he stops me. "Were you part of the discussion?"

  I shake my head. "No. In fact, I spent most of the time with my head down, but when I lifted my head up it looked like I'd been crying. I don't know about what, but I did see my name on the papers. I couldn't make out any other of the words but my name, though."

  "That's very interesting. Why do you think you saw your name on the papers?"

  "I don't know, but if the discussion involved me in any way, shouldn't I have been part of things instead of sitting on the sidelines with my head down?"

  He thinks for a moment and then nods. "Maybe, but remember these aren't necessarily literal, so we can't look at them that way. Waking dreams are like regular dreams. Sometimes what we see in them is meant to be symbolic."

  As soon as he mentions that I shouldn't take what I saw literally, I remember how I felt like I had been involved in something like it before. Excited to tell him, I lean forward and say, "Another thing that felt different this time is that it felt like I may have been in that room at some time with them when they argued. I can’t tell you I have, for sure, but it felt so much like a memory that I was struck by that as soon as it went away."

  My announcement seems to intrigue him. Instead of giving me his usual nod, he opens his eyes wide and hums like he's surprised. "Now that's interesting," he says as he grabs his notepad and pen. "This is the first time you've felt that way.”

  “That’s true, but I have a hard time imagining this actually happened in my father’s study.”

  “Why is that?”

  "I highly doubt my husband has been in my father's study even once. My mother used to let my sisters and me go in there when we were small, but by the time I was a teenager, she kept it closed all the time. I haven't been in there in years."

  Looking up from his notes, Dr. Trevino asks, "Did you notice what the room looked like? Did it look like it's been used recently?"

  "You mean like was there an inch of dust on the desk? I don't know. I opened the door, and before I could turn on the light, the scene was playing out in front of me. Then when it ended, my mother was standing behind me, so I never got the chance to see what the room looked like. All I know is it smelled the same way it always did. Like freshly cut wood."

  "Do you have any memories of anything important happening in that room at any time during your life?"

  I think about that for a moment and shake my head. "No. As I said, my father died when I was very young, so I never got to spend any time with him in there. When I was little girl, I used to like to sneak in and pretend he sat in his chair behind his enormous old desk and I sat in the chair in front of it talking to him. Other than that, nothing ever happened in that room."

  "What about with your sisters or your mother? Anything ever happen in that room important to them?"

  "No. It was a room I pretended in when I was young, and then it became a room that was always closed off by the time I was a teenager."

  The doctor gives me another nod and writes more notes as I sit silently for a few minutes. Closing my eyes, I think about my father's study and swear I still have the scent of freshly cut wood in my nostrils. When Dr. Trevino finishes jotting down what he found important, he looks up and asks the question I don't want to answer but know I must.

  "Would you like to tell me the other reason you wanted to meet today, Natalie?"

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Natalie

  After a few moments of trying to find the right words, I give up and simply tell him the truth, just as I promised I would. I don't look him directly in the eye, though, because although I want to be honest, what I have to say is still embarrassing.

  "I'm scared."

  "Of the waking dreams and nightmares you've been experiencing? It's only natural, but I think talking about it will help the more we meet."

  He's trying to be supportive, but he's nowhere close to understanding. How could he? Up until about a half hour ago, he thought I was an entirely different person.

  "No, not about those. They aren't scary as much as unnerving, but you're right. It does help to talk about them with you. No, I'm scared of my husband. It's like he's becoming someone I don't know anymore, and I'm terrified."

  "It's normal to think the person you love is changing over time, Natalie. We all do."

  Slowly, I loosen the scarf around my neck and let the ends hang. I don't say anything when I tilt my head back for him to see what's scaring me about my husband. Well, at least part of what's scaring me about Adam.

  I know what those marks look like today. I stared at them as I dressed this morning, my gaze glued to the purple imprints where his fingers sunk into my skin. They look bad now, but in a week, they'll look grotesque, like some child's coloring picture done by someone with a sick imagination.

  Dr. Trevino doesn't know what to say. I lower my eyes and look at him to see a mixture of surprise and fear coming from him. The usually talkative therapist is rendered silent.

  "Nice, aren't they? They're from the other night when he choked me in our kitchen. He pressed me up against the refrigerator and choked me because he thought I was cheating on him. That's when I told him that I've been coming here for therapy."

  After clearing his throat, the doctor asks, "Has your husband been violent before?"

  I lower my head and retie the scarf to hide the evidence of Adam's misbehavior once again. "No. This is the first time he's ever laid a hand on me like that. And now he's installed hidden cameras around the house to spy on me. I'm not being paranoid either. I found the box with all the details about his little spy goods that told me everything. Let's hope the house never catches on fire because those fake smoke detectors aren't going to do a damn thing."

  "You sound more than scared. You sound angry too."

  His mention of that surprises me, at first, but it doesn't take me long to admit the truth. "I am angry. I don't deserve to be treated like this."

  Neither of us says anything for a long moment, which makes the guilt from the other confession I have to make today unbearable. “My husband wasn’t wrong about me cheating on him. For what it’s worth, he’s cheating on me too, so turnabout is fair play.”

  “How do you feel about that? Your husband’s cheating, I mean.�
��

  A tiny pinch of hurt gnaws at me for a moment before I push it away. “I’m angry because I know he’s doing it because I can’t give him children. I’m sad too because I feel like I’m not enough. But mostly I’m angry.”

  Dr. Trevino nods and asks, “Did you tell him the truth about your infidelity?”

  “No, and even if I did, he still doesn’t have the right to nearly strangle me to death,” I say far more forcefully than I mean to.

  The doctor quickly shakes his head. “Oh, I was in no way implying that, Natalie. Please don’t think that. No one has the right to hurt you, no matter what you say or do. I was just wondering if you admitted the truth to him because it’s clearly on your mind.”

  “It’s on my mind because Alexei keeps telling me to come to him so I’m safe. Alexei is the man’s name. The problem is I can’t change who I am, who I was brought up to be. What a mess I am.”

  “Why don’t you want to leave your husband?” Dr. Trevino asks, sort of surprising me with how blunt he is.

  “Not because I’m still in love with him. I can tell you that. I just don’t know how my mother would handle my leaving. I told Claire about Alexei, and she understands because she just wants me to be happy. My mother is a completely different story, though.”

  “You don’t think she wants you to be happy?”

  I take a few moments to figure out how I want to phrase what I think my mother feels, but finally I simply state the fact I’ve known for years. “My mother thinks Adam is the best thing to ever happen to me. More often than not, I think she likes him more than she likes me. My happiness isn’t really something she thinks of. I’m married, and I’m supposed to stay married, according to her. That’s it.”

  “Are you happy with this man, Alexei?” he asks, giving me another very pointed question to answer.

  Without hesitation, I smile at the mere thought of him. “Yes, I’m happier than I ever thought I could be, which says something considering who he is.”