by Jae
"Come on, admit it," Janet said. "It's that hot detective that seems to be in and out of here every other day."
Dawn blinked. Had they been that obvious? She had tried to be discreet when Aiden stopped by at her office. "Yes," she answered simply. Janet didn't seem to be shocked, so there was no reason to deny it.
Janet raised a cautioning eyebrow. "You've seen the ring on his finger, right?"
"What?" Dawn sputtered into her tea.
"Don't tell me you didn't know he's married?"
Slowly, Dawn realized that the "hot detective" Janet was talking about was not Aiden, but her partner, who had accompanied her a few times. She laughed. "Oh, no, Detective Bennet's wife has nothing to fear from me. It's his partner I'm interested in."
"His p –" Janet's eyes widened when she remembered who that was. "You don't mean...? You...?"
"I'm in love with her." She had said those words quite often to Aiden in the past two months, but rarely had she told other people about her feelings for Aiden, and it still made her a little nervous to wait for the reaction. She held her breath until Janet relaxed again.
Janet leaned back in her chair to study her colleague. "So you finally found out why you weren't happy in your marriage, huh?"
"That would be one of the reasons, yes," Dawn agreed. She watched her old friend closely, still unsure about her reaction to this revelation.
"Well, in that case..." Janet stood, shoved her chair back, and knelt down in front of Dawn.
Dawn white-knuckled her cup of tea. "W-what are you doing?"
Janet laughed. "I'm not proposing marriage or anything. Don't worry. I'm merely groveling for a favor."
"You know, people like you are responsible for the rumor that psychologists are a bit wacky themselves," Dawn said, shaking her head. "Get up off the floor, you goof. What favor?" she asked when Janet was back on her feet.
"Well, I've just seen this new patient of mine sitting in the waiting room on my way in."
Dawn stared at her. "You have a patient waiting, and you're sitting here, eating cheesecake and interrogating me about my love life?"
"She's half an hour early," Janet defended herself.
Dawn nodded. They both knew that coming to sessions early, late, or not at all was often nothing more than a patient's attempt to show the therapist who had the control over their therapy sessions. Dawn always tried not to get involved in these power games.
"Mrs. Phillips said her mother dropped her off and that she was probably glad to be rid of her for a while," Janet explained wryly.
Dawn nodded. She knew Mrs. Phillips, their office manager and receptionist, had a keen eye and was good at reading people. "Rebellious teenager, huh?"
"Poster child for rebellion," Janet said. "Leather jacket, tattoo, thumb ring, the works. And I have a feeling she would be more interested in your sweetheart than in Detective Bennet too."
Dawn gave her a smirk. "You're not stereotyping at all, are you?"
"Maybe. But I'd rather err on the side of caution. You know there are studies indicating that therapy is often more effective for a gay patient when the therapist is homosexual too," Janet said.
"You're not just saying that because you want to stay in here and eat cheesecake instead of trying to talk to a troubled teen, are you?" Dawn fixed her with a mock stern gaze.
"One piece of cheesecake is enough for me, thank you very much. Some of us are still searching for Mr. Right." Janet patted her stomach. "But seriously, if you have the time, I have a feeling you'd be better equipped to reach this particular patient."
Dawn glanced at her watch. She had more than enough time for an intake interview with the teenager before her next patient arrived. "All right. If it's okay with the girl, I'll take her off your hands."
"Thanks. Maybe I'll eat that second piece of cheesecake after all," Janet said with a grin.
"So we're okay?" Dawn asked, studying her old friend. "You're okay with –"
"With you being gay?"
Dawn nodded.
"Well, it's a bit of a surprise, but when I think about it... I can see you with a woman, and that female detective is no slouch in the looks department. Next time she comes visiting you at the office, you'll have to introduce us," Janet said.
"Sure." Dawn put her empty cup into the dishwasher and went to get the patient's intake form from Mrs. Phillips.
"Evan Whitfield" was scrawled across the blank space titled "name" on the top of the crumpled piece of paper. The date of birth told her that her new patient was sixteen. The girl had checked only the option "other" in the list of problems that she was having and had filled in "shrinks" on the line where she was supposed to describe that "other problem." The names listed under "previous therapy/counseling" read like the who's who of Portland's psychologists.
"Thanks a lot, Janet," Dawn muttered. She straightened her shoulders and walked over to the waiting room. "Ms. Whitfield?"
The only patient in the waiting room didn't look up. The dark-haired girl's head was bobbing up and down to the loud music that blared out of her earphones.
Dawn walked over and pulled one of the earbuds from the girl's ear.
"Hey!" The girl shot up from the chair that she'd tipped back against the wall. Brown eyes glared down at Dawn from under shaggy black hair that was cut short except for long, rebellious bangs. Evan Whitfield obviously enjoyed the fact that she was already taller than Dawn.
"Hello, Ms. Whitfield," Dawn said calmly and extended a hand. "I'm Doctor Kinsley."
Evan Whitfield ignored the offered hand and folded leather-jacket-clad arms across her chest. "So?"
"Why don't you come with me to my office and take a seat?" Dawn continued without paying the girl's provocation any attention.
"Take a seat? I thought I was supposed to lie down on the couch?" Evan asked sarcastically, but at least she followed Dawn as she led the way to her office.
Dawn shrugged. "Whatever works for you is fine with me, but personally, I like to look people in the eye while I'm talking to them."
The girl didn't answer. She had her back to Dawn, her hands shoved into the pockets of her baggy jeans, silently taking in the office.
Dawn suppressed a smile. Not what you expected, huh? Dawn knew that her office didn't have much in common with the neat, clinical offices of some of her colleagues. On her old, marred desk, mountains of paperwork warred for space with toys, chocolates, and photos. Her diplomas hung side by side with children's paintings. "Why don't we sit down?" she suggested again.
Evan Whitfield walked around the yellow beanbags and plopped down in the chair in front of the desk, forcing Dawn to sit in her chair with the desk between them.
So she wants to keep her distance. I guess she doesn't want to get too close to the shrink or anyone else. Dawn took a seat and studied the teenager. She knew most patients expected her to start asking questions right away, and they were eager to fill the awkward silence. She had learned the power of silence a long time ago, so she merely sat and watched Evan Whitfield.
Dawn took in the long legs lazily sprawled in front of Evan, the stubborn jaw, and the confident, cautious gaze of the brown eyes. My God! she thought with amazement. That's exactly how I imagine Aiden must have looked at this age.
She stared at Evan for a second longer, then called herself to order. Oh, come on, Kinsley, after six months, you'd think you were over that infatuated stage where everything and everyone reminds you of Aiden. Get your mind on the job! She gently cleared her throat. "So why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"
Evan Whitfield continued to stare out the window as if she hadn't spoken.
This is why she had so many other therapists before. She simply refused to talk to them. "Okay, I received your message loud and clear," Dawn said bluntly. "You don't want to be here."
"Damn right, Doc!" Evan's cool façade was destroyed when she glared at Dawn.
Dawn didn't react to the anger in her voice or the abbreviation of her title that wa
s meant only to provoke her. "Here we are anyway," she continued calmly. "Why not cut this childish crap and talk like adults?"
For a second, Dawn could see surprise and something like reluctant respect glimmer in the brown eyes before the mask of anger was back. "Do they allow you to talk to patients like that?" Evan growled at her.
"They?"
"The guys on the ethics committee," Evan answered, her words a silent threat.
How long has she been handed from therapist to therapist to have learned about the ethics committee at the tender age of sixteen? Dawn wondered. "They want me to use the language my patient does so that he or she will feel more comfortable talking to me about their problems."
"I don't have a problem!" Evan Whitfield exploded. "I'm not crazy! I don't need a shrink!"
"Good thing I'm not a shrink, then," Dawn answered softly. "I'm a psychologist. I work with people who are unhappy with some aspect of their lives."
A heavy boot kicked against her desk. "I'm not unhappy!"
"Then why are you yelling?" Dawn kept her voice low and gentle, emphasizing the contrast between their modes of communication. Actually, Dawn didn't care if Evan was yelling as long as she was talking to her. Patients had whispered their most painful secrets in this office, and they had yelled at her at the top of their lungs. In Evan's case, it meant she had succeeded in piercing the cool, bored façade and reaching the swirling emotions beneath.
"I'm not –" Evan shouted, then stopped and deliberately lowered her voice. "I'm not yellin'. And I don't wanna be here."
Dawn nodded. "I know. But since you're here, let's try to make the best of it, okay?"
Evan rolled her eyes and didn't answer.
"So," Dawn tried again, "whose idea was it to send you here?"
Evan ignored her.
"Your mother's?" Dawn asked.
"She's not my mother!" The long, sprawled-out legs tensed as Evan got ready to jump up.
Bingo. "She's not?" Dawn asked in a neutral tone.
"No!" Evan's hands gripped the armrests, barely keeping herself in the chair.
Dawn knew that she needed to change the subject for a moment to lessen the emotional intensity or risk having her patient run from the room and never return. "Okay, before we start, I think you should know our sessions will be completely confidential. Unless you're planning to hurt yourself or someone else, I won't discuss anything you tell me with your relatives, your teachers, or anyone else," Dawn said.
Evan snorted. "Right. Like I believe that even for a second."
"Any particular reason for your distrust?" Dawn asked.
Evan regarded her coolly. "Maybe I just don't like you."
Dawn didn't believe her. Evan's issues with trust ran much deeper than a simple dislike for her. "Listen, Ms. Whitfield." She stopped herself. Calling Evan by her last name didn't feel right. It was just one more barrier Evan could hide behind, and she wouldn't allow that. "Can I call you Evan?"
Evan flashed her a wolfish smile, and for a second, Dawn was once again reminded of Aiden. "Only if I can call you..." Evan craned her neck to be able to read the name on the diploma hanging on the wall. "...Dawn." She met Dawn's gaze, clearly expecting her to back down.
Dawn hesitated, then made a decision. Evan tended to keep herself apart from the rest of the world, and she needed to employ some unusual methods to establish some kind of connection. "All right. You can." Again, an expression of surprise flashed across Evan Whitfield's face before it was quickly hidden again. "On one condition."
Evan groaned. "I should have known." When Dawn just continued to look at her, she finally relented. "What condition?"
"You use my first name with the same respect that I address you with," Dawn bargained.
Evan stared at her. "You're one weird shrink, Doc."
Doc, Dawn silently repeated. Not Dawn. She doesn't want to be respectful toward me. "About the confidentiality I promised you... I mean it. Unless you put yourself or others in acute danger, I won't repeat anything you tell me to another person."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Evan leaned back with her trademark bored expression as if she wasn't listening to a word Dawn had said.
"Try me."
Evan looked up. "What?"
"If you don't believe me, try me. Tell me one thing about you. If your... the woman who dropped you off doesn't chew you out about it on the way home, you'll know you can trust me."
Brown eyes narrowed. Dawn was sure she would refuse to answer, but then Evan's lips curled into a grin that reminded her once again of Aiden. "You want to know something about me, huh? How about this: I just finished fucking this girl before I came to your office. That personal enough for you?"
Dawn forced herself not to react. Congratulations, Janet, your gaydar is working just fine. "So the woman who is not your mother, she doesn't know about this relationship?" she asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.
"Who said it's a relationship?" Evan Whitfield looked Dawn right in the eye, a challenging gleam in her eyes.
"It isn't?" It was clear to Dawn that Evan wanted to shock her, but she wasn't sure if she had really slept with a girl or was just bragging.
Evan leaned back. Her leather jacket creaked as she crossed her arms behind her head, looking like a satisfied, lazy cat. "Just a bit of fun. I don't do relationships."
"Why not?"
"Why should I buy a cow if all I want is milk?" Evan drawled.
Dawn leaned forward, trying to bridge the distance between them. "Let's try not to hide behind lame statements like that while you're in here, okay?"
Evan scowled and removed her arms from behind her head to cross them in front of her chest again.
"So the woman who dropped you off... if she's not your mother, who is she?" Dawn asked, hoping that Evan would answer that question now that she had started to talk.
Evan made a show of examining her fingernails.
All right. Let's try a little provocation of my own. "She's not that one-night stand you just told me about, is she?"
A strand of black hair fell into Evan's face as her head shot up. "Are you crazy? What would I want with an old, pushy broad like that?"
I'll take that as a no. Dawn just looked at her and waited.
Evan tried to stare her down for a long minute, then relented. "She's foster mother number thirty-seven."
Dawn was sure Evan was exaggerating, but the meaning was clear nonetheless. She grew up in a number of different foster homes. She has no family and no girlfriend. I bet all that rebellious bravado is just to hide how lonely and rejected she's feeling. "How long have you lived with her?"
A casual shrug. "A while."
"And what's so horrible about it?" Dawn asked.
Evan looked at her with brooding dark eyes. "I never said it was."
"You called her a 'pushy, old broad' and 'foster mother number thirty-seven' instead of just using her name," Dawn pointed out. "Sounds like she's not your favorite person." Is there anyone in your life you allow yourself to like? Dawn wondered. What made you close yourself off from people?
"She just gets on my nerves." Evan's fingers impatiently tugged on a tear in her jeans.
"About what?"
"Everything!" Evan snapped.
This is going to be a long fifty minutes, Dawn thought, suppressing a sigh. You better save some of that cake for me, Janet. "Can you give me an example?"
Evan threw up her hands. "She's constantly naggin' me about school, the way I dress, and who I hang around."
"Sounds like the same stuff every teenager fights over with her parents," Dawn said. Not liking Evan's leather jacket or her friends couldn't be the reason why her foster mother thought she needed therapy.
"They're not my parents!" Evan snarled.
Dawn studied her, well aware that her next question would most likely not be answered. It needed to be asked anyway. "Can I ask why you don't live with your biological parents?"
"You can ask," Evan said in a condescending manner. "Doesn'
t mean I have to answer."
"I know this might be a difficult topic for you –"
"You don't know anything!" Evan leaped to her feet so fast her chair tumbled to the floor. "You don't know anything about me!" She prowled around the office like a caged panther.
Dawn stayed where she was. "You're right. That's exactly why I need to ask you these questions. I have to get to know you before I can help you. Now would you please pick up the chair and sit down again?"