by Shea Lynn
A silver circle pendant with a small diamond in its middle hung down her neck, positioned perfectly below the center of her clavicle. I studied that pendant, wondering what it meant.
She was dressed in a business casual style with a teal tank cardigan set and a pair of expensive, black slacks that flared at the ankles, ending in a pair of black leather heels.
Dr. Williamson broke the silence and began the session.
“So Sidney, why are you here today?” she asked me, taking off her black wire-rimmed glasses.
I sighed and swallowed over the lump in my throat. “I uh….I guess I’m here because my life is falling apart.”
Her smile grew warmer. “Well, you know that’s a pretty common reason people come to see me.”
I nodded.
She continued on, “So what in particular has your life falling apart?”
“I’ve been cheating on my husband.”
Dr. Williamson nodded and started writing.
I blinked my eyes and said, “With a woman.”
I was waiting for her to flinch or shift. Show some sign of surprise, but she didn’t do that. She just nodded and gave me another one of those warm smiles.
“And this troubles you?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What about it troubles you the most? What was the motivating factor that brought you into my office?”
I looked away. “I haven’t been myself. Angry. Irritable. Frustrated. And last week, I noticed my hair was thinning. I thought it might all be stress related. And I figured it was time to see someone.”
“I take it your husband isn’t aware of this affair?” she asked.
“No he is not. And I never want him to find out,” I replied.
She frowned slightly. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I’m afraid, I guess.”
“Afraid? Of physical harm?”
“No. Afraid to break his heart.”
Dr. Williamson nodded again, jotting down notes as I went along.
“This affair, do you plan to continue it?”
I shook my head vigorously. “No, no. Absolutely not. Dayna and I have ended it. We have both agreed to end it.”
“Dayna is the woman you’ve been seeing?”
“Yes.”
“You say you’ve agreed to end things with this woman, but it appears that you’re still troubled. I sense there’s a ‘but’,” she said.
“There is a butt. I’m a complete ass. I’ve been an ass. Selfish and self-motivated. And even though I know it’s wrong to be with Dayna and I know it’s wrong to want to be with her, I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about her.”
“I see. You’re in love with Dayna?”
I looked down. “Yes.”
“Are you in love with your husband?”
I shook my head in response, not wanting to verbalize that admission.
“I read in your profile that you’re religious and that the church is important to you. Is that still true?”
“It is. Until recently, I was a Sunday school teacher at my church. I’m very committed to my faith.”
“And your being a Sunday school teacher, that’s changed?” she asked.
“It had to. I stepped down. Conflict of interest.”
Dr. Williamson’s eyes tempered with concern. “With whom? Someone in the church.”
“No. With myself. I didn’t feel it was right for me to teach women how to be good Christians when I’m not a good Christian myself.”
She paused. “Because you’re having an affair or because the affair is a lesbian affair?”
I sighed. “Both I guess. But the lesbian part is a little more troubling than the affair part.”
It was even hard for me to say that l-word. I nearly stumbled over it.
“I assume the lesbian part is more troubling because of your religious background?” There was that word again. It sounded louder than it was. Harsh even. Her eyes were sharp and they studied me, awaiting a response.
“Yeah. I know the affair isn’t right. It’s not justified. But the fact that I’ve fallen for a woman just….makes me feel so sinful. Like I’m not worthy to teach the class. I don’t even feel worthy of attending service. I’m ashamed of it. Ashamed of how she makes me feel.”
The doctor nodded as she scribbled on her notepad before meeting my eyes.
“That must feel horrible. Such a conflict for you.”
“It is.”
“Let me ask you something. Do you think God is angry with you?” she asked.
I looked down. “I’m sure He is.”
“Because of the affair or because of the lesbian relationship?”
“The relationship. The fact that it’s a woman. It’s like the worse sin you can ever commit.”
“I see.”
She paused then. Took off her tortoise shell glasses and eyed me curiously. “Sidney, are you sure you will be comfortable speaking with me? From our discussion thus far, it appears that your major source of conflict is tied to the religious views you have concerning your sexuality. Would you be more comfortable talking to a church counselor or a clergyman? Someone that can give you a faith-based view of your situation?”
“No. I’d rather see you.”
Dr. Williamson’s voice softened and she gazed at me softly. “Why is that?”
I told her that I felt she was impartial. That I didn’t want to be judged. I’d been around the church long enough to know that there’s no gray area for me. Falling in love with another woman, being with another woman, was not acceptable. Period. And I didn’t want to be judged for what I’d done or how I felt. I just wanted to move past it. I wanted to get better.
“Does that make sense?” I asked.
“It does. It makes a lot of sense,” she said, sliding her glasses back on and jotting down more notes.
Dr. Williamson finally looked up. “Sidney, let me ask you something else. Is this your first lesbian relationship?”
Again with that word. It was so naked and bare it almost burned me. I shook my head again. “No, it’s not. I had one other relationship with a young woman from law school.”
“Did that relationship make you feel as sinful then in your relationship as you do with Dayna?”
“I did have the same conflict back then. But the relationship didn’t last long. Afterwards, I chalked it up to being a phase and went on with my life. I got more involved in the church. Got married. And then…” I trailed off.
“And then you met someone who was more than just a phase.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Dr. Williamson smiled and removed her glasses again, holding them daintily her right hand. “I see.”
“Sidney, you’ve got a lot going on in your head right now. You’re lost, confused, frightened, and full of regret. And honestly, I’m not sure you can truly identify what troubles you the most: that you are no longer seeing Dayna or that you betrayed your husband.
Dr. Williamson told me I was standing at the intersection of my sexuality, spiritual salvation, familial identity and the power of my love affair with Dayna. The visual was so accurate to me. There I was, standing in the middle of all those competing ideals and I had no safe place in which to rest. She’d stated that analogy so clearly that I felt she must understand me and I trusted her instantly.
My head had been spinning and my stomach churning when I asked her point blank if she could turn me straight; if her sessions could redirect how I was feeling. And like a teacher guiding a lost pupil through an elementary lesson, she explained that she had no control over my sexuality and that she didn’t believe in therapy that attempted to turn people straight. In her opinion, such a practice did not exist in modern psychotherapy.
We talked again about Dayna and my life and my inability to deal with the stress. We talked about the patch and I swallowed my pride and showed it to her. She told me what in my heart of hearts, I’d already known; the patch, the lack of sleep, the anxiety, and the irritability were st
ress related. And now that I knew the cause of the manifestation, I was forced to face that cause.
The therapist smiled again before pulling off her glasses and meeting my gaze. “Sidney, we’re going to have to dig a little deeper here so that I can have a full picture of what’s going on in your life and help you get a handle on who you are, what you want, and what that means for you. Does that sound like a plan?”
I nodded. “Yes, it does.”
“I’ve got to warn you, it’s probably going to be a little painful and all of your problems aren’t going to be solved in one or two sessions. This is a process. A process of discovery and understanding. But if you trust me enough to let me help you, I’m confident we’ll be able to get you to relieve some of the anxiety and tension you’re feeling.
When the session was over, I walked away with a prescription for sleeping pills and an appointment for the following week.
Dayna and I hadn’t spoken much since the night of the coffee shop. The absence ached and the edginess I felt being away from her was distracting. But we did share an occasional email and I’d learned Cameron was all moved in. Dayna wished me the best in my sessions with Dr. Williamson. I continued to avoid her on Sundays and I think she started to avoid me as well.
The little pink sleeping pills were a Godsend. I was finally able to fall asleep in Aaron’s embrace. He knew that I was seeing a therapist, but was still unaware of my relationship with Dayna. I was more pleasant with him at home. Dr. Williamson had taught me a few calming techniques.
Those techniques, paired with more prayer, and a hit of sleeping pill at night had really begun to make a difference in my attitude.
But I still saw her face in others, heard her voice in the wind, felt her touch when no one else was around, and missed her dearly. I didn’t want any more heated love making sessions in empty parking lots. Well, I did want them. But I knew that I shouldn’t have them. That she and I shouldn’t have them. I didn’t trust myself around her.
Nearly a month after my first session with Dr. Williamson, I stood in the baggage claim of O’Hare International Airport. I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of my younger sister, Karen. It was Memorial Day weekend and she was flying home from Detroit for the holiday.
Standing on the tiled floor as people bustled around me in search of their luggage; I looked up and laid eyes on my baby sister. She made her way toward the descending escalator, her eyes searching for me in the sea of holiday travelers.
Though she’d always be two inches shorter than me (I’d measured it several times), there was no denying that my sister was all grown up. Little Karen was now Dr. Karen Campbell and the sole proprietor of her own psychotherapy office in the suburbs of the Motor City.
It amazed me that the same Karen who could never wait for me to finish talking, was now paid to listen to other people’s problems all day.
Karen’s skin was the color of sun-kissed wheat and she’d cut her hair since I’d last seen her over a year ago. It was now shaped in a neat, angled bob. Her lips were shiny with frosted lip gloss and though she was wearing a simple, designer, long-sleeved tee and jeans, I knew it must have taken her at least twenty minutes to finalize her wardrobe selection.
There was also more of her than there had been when she was last home. We’d always been about the same size, but her hips were wider and her face was fuller. I made a mental note to say nothing of my sister’s weight gain. That was taboo.
She finally spotted me and a slow smile spread across her face. That smile made me grin.
My little sister was home! I’d missed her more than I’d realized. I was practically bouncing up and down by the time she made it to ground level. We hugged like old friends and I wondered when we went from being the best of friends to sisters that rarely spoke.
We chatted about nothing important, sharing pleasantries and small talk, until her bag slid down the carousel. I snatched it up for her before leading the way to the parking lot.
The weather was great; mild and warm. In a light jacket, pink polo shirt, and jeans I was almost dressed too warmly. I pulled Karen’s rolling upright easily and we headed quickly towards my red dragon.
As we were heading back towards the suburbs, I said, “Mom is going to be happy to see you. I’m glad you came.”
She smiled. “I am, too. It can be hard to get away, but I’m glad I made it home. How is Mama?”
I thought back on my recent heart-to-heart with my mother and smiled, “She’s great. Still Mom. Nothing’s changed. She’s still as sharp and still as nosey as ever.”
“And Daddy?” she asked.
“Daddy is Daddy. Still trying to sneak off his diet. He’s excited to see you, too.”
She asked me about Aaron and my breath caught in my throat. I swallowed thickly and forced a smile and an appropriate response. Karen had always thought highly of my husband; in her eyes he was good for me.
“I’ve missed you guys,” she said. Her voice grew soft and she gazed out the window at the passing Chicago scenery.
“Sorry I wasn’t here for Christmas.”
“We missed you. It wasn’t the same without you. But I understood. How is Daniel, anyway?” I asked.
My sister had missed Christmas with our family for the first time in her life in December. Instead of heading home, she and her boyfriend, Daniel, had spent Christmas day with his family before taking off on a seven day Caribbean cruise. My mother had been furious. Christmas was practically the only time Karen made it home and my mother didn’t like the idea of losing out on her annual visit.
Karen and Daniel had met through a mutual friend. He was a financial advisor at the branch office of a larger bank. I’d never met him in person, but in emails and in phone conversations, Karen had painted him as a suitable match for herself. Unlike me, my sister had had a string of boyfriends. She’d started in high school and now, there was a trail of discarded former suitors in her past.
But I was thirty-six. And that meant Karen Elyse was thirty-three. And thirty-three years was well past the age of the not-married-yet panic zone that nearly all women were subject to. I’d known that she was serious about Daniel. My sister was tired of playing the field and she’d been ready to settle down.
So, it didn’t strike me as odd that she’d chosen to spend last Christmas with him instead of us.
Karen’s tone was bitter when she finally answered me. “I don’t know how Daniel is doing. And I really don’t give a shit.”
I sighed. “Oh, no. What happened?”
My sister tossed a knowing look my way before turning her attention back to the passing scenery. “He’s a lying son-of-a-bitch. That’s what happened.”
I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Cheated on you?”
“During the cruise.”
“What?” I asked, my voice raising several octaves.
“Yes. During the cruise.”
Karen’s voice softened again and she said, “We were getting really serious, Sid. We talked about marriage and kids. We even talked about the kind of ring I wanted. The kind of future we wanted together. And then I caught him sneaking around the ship. He tried to deny it, but I’d seen him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I was embarrassed. We went back and forth after the holiday but I just couldn’t trust him. By then, I wasn’t really talking to you that regularly.”
I realized I’d been distracted. Too distracted to notice that my little sister had broken up with her first real grownup man-friend.
“I’m sorry, Karen.”
She sighed. “It is what it is. I just…I don’t know how I’m going to tell Mom. I don’t want a lecture from her. I don’t want to hear how I should have put my family first. How I didn’t really know him.”
“I don’t know, Karen. I don’t think she’ll go there with you. Mom’s changing a little bit.”
Though my eyes were on the road and the 90-mile per hour traffic, I could feel her eyes boring in
to me, sarcasm dripping from her gaze. “I thought you said nothing’s changed?”
“Well, maybe I was wrong. Just don’t get all whiney with Mom like you can get. Just talk to her. Like an adult,” I said.
Karen nodded absently. “I just hate the fact that I can’t seem to get back on track. I feel really betrayed. I actually trusted him, Sid. I’ve been a little depressed. Eating way too much junk food to compensate for my lack of him. For my lack of sex.”
I tried to be supportive and find the right words to tell her that her weight gain wasn’t that noticeable and that it actually looked good on her. I hoped I was being successful in my efforts.
“Are you taking me to Mom’s?” she asked.
“Yeah, she’s expecting us. Unless you want to crash with the Kings. We’ll make room for you,” I said, glancing her way.
“Maybe tomorrow night. I need to see Mama and Daddy. Spend some time with them. But can we stop by the store really quick? I left part of my toiletries at home in a bag in my bathroom. Any little drug store will do.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Do you need to drive while you’re here? You can borrow my car if you want.”
“Having a vehicle to drive will mean I’m expected to drive and visit everyone and their mama. I have no intention of doing that while I’m here. So thanks, but no thanks. And I know how you are with this car. There’s no way I’d ever slip behind the wheel. If anything happened to it, I’d never make it back out of Wilmette alive.”
I put on my right turn signal and started switching lanes to exit the highway.
We pulled into the parking lot of a popular chain of drug stores and I followed my sister around, chit chatting as we went. I was only vaguely aware that we were being watched by a tall, dark-skinned guy with a thick build, mustache, and wearing loose-fitting jeans and a long, dark blue golf-shirt.