by L. U. Ann
"Lacey," she persists, "Alicia is here to work with you."
Embarrassed by my despondent state, I wipe my eyes with the blanket that I'm using as a shield and slide it down slightly to offer a sad smile to my ambitious and upbeat therapist, Alicia, who also happens to be petite and beautiful. If only I had a body like hers. I'll never get one laying around as if I'm dead for all this time.
"How are you today, Lacey?" she asks, whirling in with her cart, as if she’s spotlighted on a Broadway stage. Her prop contains promises and all things to help me strengthen my muscles.
I sincerely wish she hadn't asked me how I was. Tears start to spill again. I say again, because I was up most of the night crying like a distraught actress. Why? There's no sane way to answer that! If I honestly won't answer the question for myself, how will I possibly answer it for someone else? I do what is best and remain silent before I lose even more composure.
"Perchance physical therapy could wait today." She purses her lips together. What exactly does she mean? As if she already knows I need the clarification, she continues, "I guess we should talk about what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours. Does that sound okay with you?" she asks.
Um, hello? No! I continue to look at my fingers twisting the rough hospital blanket between them. Anything to get my mind off talking about my feelings, legitimate or fucked up feelings. At this point, the two have meshed into an entangled web.
"Lacey, I want to be honest with you and would like you to do me the same courtesy. Okay?" She pauses, waiting for me to give up my stubborn pity and look at her. "I want you to answer the question before I proceed. Will you please be honest with me?"
I just nod my head yes, afraid I'll start crying if I talk.
"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way. Moving along now, I believe the trauma of the accident and being away from your little munchkin might be causing you to be a little down. And, I'm usually right about these things. I have asked our psychologist on-call to come in and talk to you."
My eyes grow wide at the word psychologist, and I come out of my speechless stupor. "What? I don't need a head doctor. I may have hit my head, but I'm not crazy."
"Lacey, calm your panties," she says, bending her head down to look at my side. "Pity," she snickers.
No, she did not just poke fun of my current panty-less situation.
"Did you listen to what I said? Do I have your attention now? Never once did I say you were crazy. Not even once. I don't think you are. Anyone who possesses the courage to have and keep a child at your age, and then to go through an abusive relationship has to be one tough cookie. Having the courage to leave is incredible in and of itself. Sounds like you've had it harder than a lot of young ladies your age, because I've heard some pretty amazing stories about you as a mom."
Oh wow, that is a nice compliment.
"What makes you think I was in an abusive relationship?" I ask defensively just as one of my adversaries enters the room. Becca.
Alicia cocks her head to the side. “Think about it. I’ve had the opportunity to listen to many conversations between you and your visitors as I've worked with you. I've learned a lot about you without even needing to ask you questions. I'm getting worried about you. You have a lot on your plate as a young, new mom, and you are doing great. But adding physical injuries and any other relationship problems to the mix could be too much for you, if it isn't already." She has her hands going every which direction, finally coming to rest over my hand. "There is nothing wrong with talking to someone about your feelings, hopes, and fears. I wish more people would take the time to do so," she adds while I remain dumbfounded.
Do I really want to tell someone what happened? Then they are going to ask more questions. It’s never just the here and now. They are going to ask me to talk about my fucking childhood. Shit, like I need to deal with that crap right now.
"Lacey," Becca pleads so softly that it's almost a whisper. She knows it will be a cold day in hell before I open up.
Because of her overt personality, Alicia continues. "Doctor Crane will be here soon. Please, give her a chance. If you don't want her to come back, then that's your choice. All I ask is that you at least talk to her once. Please, I truly believe it can help."
I wish I could become this blanket, and then I could be thrown into the wash to rid me of dirt, or stitched with a needle and thread to make me all new. It would be so much more convenient for everyone. Who the hell wants to talk about the bad stuff that’s happened to them? I can honestly tell you, not me.
"Love, I agree. It's about time you get everything out. You went through a lot of crap with Caine. For Heaven's sakes, he did the 'docta stairwell', pushing you down the stairs while you were pregnant. If you aren't going to admit all the crap he put you through, then I'll be more than happy to do it for you."
She closes her eyes, taking a shaky breath before she continues. "He's so fucking lucky I didn't walk in that night until you were at the bottom of the stairs. I knew what the hell he did even though you refused to admit to the animalistic act. Instead, you fed me some fucking bullshit lie that you missed a step and slid down." Becca's face is beet red with rage.
"That douche fucked with your head so much. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why I see pain and sorrow in your eyes while I'm talking about him. There is no way in fucking hell he deserves your love, or any kind of sympathy from you." Her eyes are filling with grief-stricken tears. "You don't know how much I regret not coming clean and reporting him. I'm sorry I failed you." She pauses to wipe her eyes. "I was so scared you would hate me forever. Ugh...," she says in confused frustration.
A knock on the door accompanied by a thankfully familiar voice shuts Becca up from more Caine-bashing. I don't think my nerves can handle any more.
“How’s my girl today?”
I tear my attention away from the blanket I want to become.
“Hey, Mom.” I smile half-heartedly, brushing my eyes with the blanket.
“Why are you crying, Sweetheart? Becca?” she asks, looking between the three of us.
Alicia eagerly pipes up first. "I've asked our psychologist on call to stop by and talk to Lacey. I'm concerned. She's been through a lot."
If I’m going to be honest with myself, I don’t plan to speak up at all, but I have all the confidence that Becca will be next. I probably can bet money on it.
Mom's eyes travel to mine. "Sweetheart, I couldn't agree more. You need to get it off your chest and talk about what has happened. I know it will help you move forward. It's tough but I know you can do it."
More tears spill. It’s as if the Hoover Dam has broken in my room.
Becca moves to stand behind Mom, wraps her arms around her shoulders, and sends me messages with her gaze. She knows I need this, and her feisty little attitude will be with me along the way.
"You promise?" I manage through my sobbed hiccups, which sting my chest.
Becca smiles and nods yes. "I'd never think about leaving. I’ve only witnessed a fraction of the stuff you've been through, and that alone would've sent me to a padded room many moons ago."
I look up at Mom with a tear stricken face before letting go of my resolve. "Okay." I agree. I guess that's a good thing because a lady that I assume is the on-call doctor walks in. She is tall with blonde hair pulled to the side, spilling over her left shoulder. I'm sure it ends around the middle of her back. Her distinguished hazel eyes take in each visitor as she introduces herself as Doctor Kat Crane. Her cheeks are sun kissed and beaming bright full of life. Oh, how I miss the sun's rays and being outside.
After shaking Mom and Becca's hands, Doctor Crane turns her attention to me. In an effort to change this depressing atmosphere, my eyes study the lady before me. At this moment, it dawns on me that she has the perfect name because she's as tall as a fucking crane. Yeah, I went there. If I have to bare my soul to her, I can at least find some humor to get me through this torture.
"Hi, Mrs. Rogers. It's nice to meet
you. I'm Doctor Crane," she says, taking notice of my reluctant painted smile.
She did not just call me Mrs. Rogers!
"Can you call me Lacey, please?" I huff with a trembling chin.
"Absolutely, anything you want, Lacey," she says, looking around the room, seemingly asking everyone to go away.
I don't think so 'crane lady'. So, is that crane as in a simple machine or the bird? Both resemble something tall, but that's as far as their similarities go. I let my mind wander.
"I'll be back later today to check up on you if my schedule allows, okay?" Alicia dramatically exclaims, whirling her cart of props behind her as whimsically as she did entering the room earlier. I watch her retreating form, waiting for her to turn around for my acknowledgement, but she doesn't.
“Mrs. Edwards and Ms. Fox, is it okay if I speak with Lacey alone?” Doctor Crane asks, handing me a tissue.
My eyes widen. I don’t want them to leave. Nervously, I turn to the 'crane lady', and with my begging look, she catches on. “Would you like them to stay?”
I nod. Understanding and relief flood me.
“No problem. Sometimes patients aren’t comfortable speaking in front of people, but it’s clear that’s not the case with you.”
I shake my head and return my gaze to my fingers kneading the blanket.
Maybe Doctor Crane isn’t so bad and won’t make me talk about things I don’t want to. You know, now that I think about it, I believe it's the bird she resembles rather than the davit machine. Her physical features accurately depict those of the bird: long legs, tall with extended neck, opportunistic hunter adapting its diet to the different seasons. She adapts her therapy session for each patient, kind of like the bird adjusts to its climate. Yeah, the bird fits better.
Damn, why didn't I put all this knowledge to use? I've been reading and studying up on animals since I can remember picking up my first paintbrush.
“Lacey?”
Clueless to what’s been said, I take in the sights of Doctor Crane, Mom, and Becca to see if I can figure out what I’ve missed.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have been daydreaming.”
"No problem. I would like to begin by asking how you wound up here in the hospital. Do you mind sharing with me?"
I shake my head and begin to tell the story. Surprisingly, I begin to go back further into my relationship with Caine. Some things I purposely skip over, and I simply ignore the raised eyebrow on Becca's face.
I explain how sad I am about not seeing Evan. She is going to look into figuring out how to get him in here. A chance to see Evan will help with my recovery, she said matter-of-factly.
We graze over Caine's manipulations, a couple of the beatings, and put downs. I try to answer her questions as best as I can. Her questions don't leave a dry eye among any of us. 'Why did you stay for so long?' or 'Why did you hide it from everyone?' It hurt big time. Having stepped out of the situation, I can see how wrong I’ve been for thinking that I could fix him and our relationship. She speaks about co-dependency, and about how it stems from a learned behavior, usually as you grow up.
Mom looks beside herself at having to listen to what her daughter has gone through. She has been apologizing profusely throughout the discussion. I can't have her blaming herself or taking matters into her own hands. Evan needs her while I'm in here. She appears to be getting antsy in her seat. I can only imagine what it must feel like to hear your child speak of such unthinkable acts happening just under your nose. Damn Caine!
"Can we talk a little bit about your childhood?" Doctor Crane asks, and my heart begins to thump out of my chest.
How the hell do I tell her? What am I supposed to do here? Please God, I really don't want to relive this again.
As if sensing my inner turmoil, Doctor Crane gives me a pass on the subject. I shake my head no in response and begin. "I have these dreams where my father is arrested, or Mom and Dad are fighting. I can't remember exactly what happened." I turn my gaze to Mom to judge her reaction.
"Will you allow your mom to explain? It could be beneficial to both of you. It sounds like there are a lot of demons haunting you, possibly both of you."
I watch Mom nervously wring her hands.
I tear my eyes from Mom and ask, "Can we do this some other time? I think this is all I can handle right now." I think Mom needs a break.
"Of course, Lacey. You've clearly been through a lot, and I appreciate your honesty and letting me inside that head of yours. You seem to have a great support system in place, and that makes a world of difference when you're working through tough situations like this. Can I come by tomorrow and speak to you?" Doctor Crane asks, but my mind is too preoccupied to respond.
As if she senses I'm overwhelmed with my thoughts, she looks over at Mom and proceeds to ask, "Would you like to sit in on the session and maybe we can figure out what these dreams are?"
Mom agrees.
After arranging a time for her to visit tomorrow, we all say goodbye to the good doctor.
"Sweetie, you did wonderfully. I'm so proud of you," Mom says, rubbing the top of my head with her fingers, and combing small amounts of hair with each stroke. "How do you feel after all of that?"
I shrug. "Okay, I guess. I wasn't expecting to tell her so much." I hesitate for a second. "Mom, are you okay hearing what happened all over again? This has to be so hard on you. I understand if you need to sit out the session."
"No, don't you worry about me. You need to get it off your shoulders. I'm sorry I didn't get you into therapy a long time ago. I have a feeling it would've helped."
"No, Mom, you did send me to therapy, remember? The doctor said I was fine and not to worry. If anyone should apologize, it should be him. You put your faith in his ability to help me if it was possible. I'm sorry I didn't show any need for it."
"Lacey!" Becca jumps out of the chair she's been quietly sitting in for so long. "You stop that shit right now. Oh, sorry, Mom!" Becca sheepishly turns back to me, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Becca continues. "You cannot apologize for that. I can sooooo theraputize you and you don't even have to pay me. Don't give me that look, Lacey." She points her finger sternly at me. "You heard me, theraputize. I am the best therapy for you. I'll get you a sweet little puppy; you'll have to teach to pee and poop outside, remember to feed and water it, but don't pour the water on it. It’s not a Cha-cha-cha-Chia Pet." She giggles at her own joke and then rolls her eyes as I stare at my crazy bestie continuing on her little rampage. "Don't look at me like I have three heads. You do all that, and you'll be too busy to worry about any other problems. See, it's a problemation. You needed help fixing a problem, and guess what? I solved it. Was there really any other solution? Besides, you know what a therapist is? It's a guy who can't help everybody. Enlist me, Love, and I'll have you as good as new in no time." She smirks.
It's late, and Mom needs to relieve Lane who's been watching Evan all day. Becca has class tomorrow, so we all decide to call it a night.
Easy Mindy comes to complete her evening routine, and then I am left with me, myself, and I. I can't help but have my thoughts go back in time, searching for any clues to answer my questions.
"Lacey?"
I snap my head up and I'm met with beautiful, piercing blue eyes that I've seen once before. They take my breath away.
"What are you doing here?" I gasp, wondering why the hell everyone has to visit me at my worst. Oh, shit shit, shit shit! I have a fucking bag. Seriously, this is happening now?
"I was taking a tour and saw your name, but…” He shakes his head as if I’m a mirage. “I didn't think it would be you until I walked by and saw your hair. I'll never forget that hair." His kind words somehow coax a smile from me. "I know it might be too late, but can you answer something that has been nagging me for a year?”
I nod, silently praying for strength.
“Why didn't you come back? I was waiting."
I gaze into those beautiful eyes and wonder how thing
s would have turned out if only I had not known about the bundle growing inside of me at the time. The time I was considering a new friendship.
Taking a deep breath, I give him the answer he's been waiting for. "I know. Oh, Devon, I'm so sorry. I found out I was pregnant and felt my world was crumbling to the ground. You don't know how many times I wish I could go back to the night I met you. I'm such a fool. You're much better off with me not showing up that night. Trust me," I say, lowering my eyes in shame.
I can see him shaking his head in my peripheral vision, as if he won't hear it, or he disagrees, but I can't tell which.
"Wow, a baby?”
Slowly I nod.
“Did you have the baby?" His eyes sweep up and down my body, causing a reaction from the intensity of his piercing blue eyes.
"What?” I find myself staring and quickly divert my eyes. “Oh, um, sorry... Yes. I had a son. His name is Evan, and he's just over four months old." I beam at the image of that handsome little man.
"That's awesome. Congratulations." I can tell his sweet words don't match what's going on inside his head, and I’m not sure if I want to know why. "So, what happened that caused you to be in here?"
"Um… weeeellll… I wasn't thinking and ran out into the road without looking." Irritated, I try to shake the thoughts out of my head. That night, among many others, has been showing up in my dreams much too often lately.
"Lacey, no!" he says taken aback.
"Yeah, well, I'd rather not talk about me right now. Tell me how you’ve been. I imagine you're still attending Hopkins?" I raise my arms as if presenting Johns Hopkins Hospital.
A smile lights up his face. "I am. My junior year is almost over, and lacrosse season is in full swing." He looks down at his watch. "In fact, I need to go to bed. Early practice tomorrow and I can’t be late or tired. Coach will make me run three extra miles for my tardiness and have my ass for not getting enough rest." He almost looks hopeful. "I'll be here doing rounds again tomorrow. Would it be okay if I stopped by?"