by PJ Nakfoor
* * *
Once she reached age sixteen, Vivi had been referred to an adult psychiatrist by Dr. Sharon, who had been her child psychiatrist. Dr. Sharon said she had done some reading about a relatively new treatment for PTSD called EMDR. She described it briefly to Vivi over the phone and told her she knew a colleague who was trained and certified in EMDR.
Nana drove Vivi to her appointment, reassuring her that all would be fine. Nana waited in the lobby after Dr. Deepa Chatterjee introduced herself to both Vivi and Nana. She was a petite woman with ink-black hair pulled up and away from her narrow face. Her tawny complexion was complemented by opulent gold jewelry and deep-set, mahogany eyes.
Vivi followed her into a small, cozy office furnished with an antique desk and two magenta velvet loveseats. There were shelves of books and India-inspired figurines sitting atop tables and on the floor. A grey stone three-tier water fountain stood in one corner and offered relaxing background sounds.
Dr. Chatterjee reviewed the notes sent over by Dr. Sharon’s office with Vivi, and they spent the first part of the visit getting to know one another. Vivi’s nervousness melted as the minutes passed by. Dr. Chatterjee had soulful eyes and a soft, calming voice. They discussed Vivi’s current medications and her goals regarding treatment.
“Dr. Sharon said you specialize in EMDR? Can you explain that to me?” she asked.
“EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. The history of the practice is very interesting. Would you like me to tell you about it?”
“Sure. I’ve never heard of it,” said Vivi.
“It has been around since the 1960’s, but not widely used until about ten years ago. A psychologist named Francine Shapiro personally experienced relief of a distressing memory when she watched two birds flying alongside one another during her walk. As her eyes darted back and forth between them, she felt better.”
“Hmm,” Vivi said, scrunching up her face. “That’s weird.”
“Well, it’s not as simple as the eye movements only. They need to be combined with recalling the memory, and then replacing it with positive visions and thoughts.”
“Then what happens?” asked Vivi.
“The traumatic memory isn’t forgotten, but it is refiled in the brain, where it has decreased effect on future emotional and mental health. Think of it as moving a file from the front of your cabinet to somewhere in the middle amongst many other files—harder to find.”
“Wow, that’s crazy. How many sessions does it take?” asked Vivi.
“Anywhere from one to five or six. It works best on a specific trauma, much less so on chronic trauma. It’s being used during active combat, sometimes right on the battlefield.”
“Does it work on everyone?”
“Unfortunately, nothing works universally. But I think you would be an excellent candidate. I’ve had several patients who have had positive results. A dramatic example I can share is a patient who was in a near airplane crash. He couldn’t travel for years. After one session of EMDR, his fear is gone, and he can now fly with a minimum of anxiety.”
“That’s unbelievable! I would definitely like to try it.”
“Great. We’ll schedule a session for next week. Today, let’s just talk a bit more about your history,” said Dr. Chatterjee.
Vivi told Dr. Chatterjee about the awful day at the county fair. Next, she talked about Jesse and his arrest. They decided to work on the fair day first, since that was the day Vivi felt her life changed completely.
“When you think about that day, what is the first feeling you experience?” Dr. Chatterjee asked.
Vivi thought a minute. “I guess the first feeling is terror, and then sadness. When that day started, I was an innocent child and when it ended, a damaged girl.”
“Excellent! You’re already a step ahead since you can express your feelings so genuinely. I’ll see you next week.” Dr. Chatterjee led Vivi back to the lobby.
Nana looked up from her magazine and directed her question to the doctor. “How did things go?”
“Vivi is an articulate and sensitive young woman and I’m hopeful. She can share our plan if she wishes. Goodbye for now, ladies.”
During the ride home, Vivi told Nana about EMDR, and how it seemed too good to be true.
“It sounds like a weird treatment, but then so did breathing into a brown paper bag. At this point, I would try anything to get better.”
She wasn’t yet seventeen and she already felt crippled.
* * *
Vivi was interviewed at their county’s Child Advocacy Center a few days after Jesse’s attack. She met with Jane, a social worker who was middle-aged, had a kind face and subdued voice. Jane’s eyes instantly calmed Vivi—they were aquamarine and brimmed with compassion. The interview was being observed by a prosecutor, an officer of the law, and a social worker via closed circuit.
After ascertaining that Vivi was comfortable in the small room, which had a juvenile feel with brightly painted murals and even a toybox in one corner, Jane opened the conversation.
“Vivi, this is where we interview minors,” Jane said, looking around the room. “I hope you are okay with this—you’re nearly an adult.”
“I’m okay,” Vivi responded quietly.
“Tell me exactly what happened, and please, take your time,” Jane coaxed.
Vivi repeated the account, as she did with Sergeant Betts, but in more detail. Her voice wavered, but she didn’t break down. When she finished, Jane gave her a glass of water and told her to relax for a few minutes. They were nearly done, but she had one or two more questions.
“Have you had any similar experiences with Jesse in the past?”
This caught Vivi off guard, and the park scene inundated her like an avalanche. She had promised herself this secret would stay tucked away forever. Unable to answer the question, she burst into tears. Jane remained calm and handed her some tissues, while gently patting Vivi’s shoulder.
“Take as much time as you need. It’s important for your case that we talk about all of the facts.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
2020
Torrents of wind and rain descended on me. I wasn’t so worried by the rain because my clothes and shoes were still damp from the swim, but I was concerned about lightning. As I plodded inland alongside the never-ending thicket, I saw a clearing, an overgrown meadow which was void of bushes and trees—did I see some type of shack in the distance?
Suddenly my gloomy surroundings were illuminated by a bolt of lightning that I swore landed only a few yards from me, and I staggered backward as I heard a loud crack followed by a splitting sound. To my left, a large tree fractured and landed with a boom. It looked like a fallen giant who was speared in the back. Or like Carl being struck down in the canoe. I admonished myself for allowing the grisly thought and worked on resetting my emotions. The next flash of lightning enabled me to clearly see a small lean-to about fifty yards ahead. I redirected my position and walked toward it.
It appeared to be an old-fashioned wooden outhouse, obviously decrepit and abandoned. I could see scattered pieces of wood and brick in the surrounding area and guessed that a cabin stood there at one time. A third round of thunder and lightning sent me dashing to the outhouse and reluctantly taking shelter inside. It smelled of must, mold and decay. I could feel, more than see cobwebs draping across the walls and hear the buzzing of mosquitoes and flies. There was a single built-in bench with a cut-out in the middle, a putrid smell emanating from it. I sat on the bench, huddled against a side wall, exhausted and frightened, but grateful to have some protection.
I tried to relax my taut muscles, but they were uncooperative. And every time I started to doze, I was awakened by the sound of buzzing insects swooping towards me and landing on any exposed skin, or claps of thunder which shook the outhouse. At one point, the wind direction changed, causing bursts of rain to spray through the broken doorway, re-soaking my damp clothing. Could the wind become strong enough to topple the outhouse? N
o, I decided, this shithole had withstood much worse for years.
I nodded off intermittently through the boundless night. I had an upsetting dream about myself as little Vivi, riding with Shane on a Ferris Wheel. Once we reached the top, the ride stopped, and Shane began to rock our seat violently. I kept telling him to quit, but he laughed at me and wouldn’t stop. His face turned into Jesse’s just as I catapulted from my seat.
* * *
The rain had finally stopped by daylight. I stood and stretched every one of my seven-hundred muscles. My skin was covered in welts, scratch marks and dried blood, and my clothes and shoes were dank. In the morning light I finally saw the inside of the outhouse, which was filthy, moldy, filled with spider webs and all types of critters crawling about. It was worse than the most spine-tingling haunted houses I’d seen in horror films. I had to pee but couldn’t bear to think about hovering over the hole in the bench, so I decided I could hold off for a bit. I stepped outside and tried to orient myself—I was at least fifty yards from the thicket. A sudden thought crossed my mind. What if someone discovers Carl’s body on the riverbank? Should I turn back and wait there? I was torn. After struggling with the decision, I decided since I had a full day ahead of me, it would be best to continue walking downstream. Maybe there was an occupied cabin or two ahead. Or it was possible I would come across a fly fisherman wading in the river, looking to haul in some trout. There had to be civilization somewhere nearby. For Christ’s sake, I was in Michigan’s Lower Peninsula during its busiest month, not in remote Alaska or an uninhabited island.
The morning light shown on the grasses and trees, coloring them a sparkling emerald green, dewy and vibrant. Along with the warm, gentle breeze the scene made for a cruel irony. In another setting, this would be a perfect framework for practicing meditation or painting at an easel.
As I trudged back toward the thicket, I realized how thirsty and hungry I had become. My tongue was desiccated, and my stomach felt hollow. I needed to take advantage of the all-night rainfall and find some pockets of water. The felled tree had left a small well in the stump and I was able to scoop a couple handfuls of water from it. It was delectable. I couldn’t wait any longer to pee, so I looked around to make sure no one was watching. Really? I pulled my shorts down and squatted.
The trauma I suffered during yesterday’s events had prevailed over my usual anxiety, so the anxiety had been manageable. But this morning it came flooding back as I calculated my next moves. I was utterly alone, grief-stricken and afraid.
“Vivian, just keep putting one foot in front of the other.” I told myself.
I didn’t talk to God every night like I used to, but always knew He was close by. I promised Him that If I survived this, I would live the life that He had intended for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
1996
A week after Vivi’s last appointment, Nana drove her to Dr. Chatterjee’s office for the first EMDR session. Vivi was nervous, not sure what to expect. She had gone to the library and skimmed some books and periodicals on the subject. There were various opinions about its efficacy, but most experts agreed that it helped a good number of patients, and there were few negative consequences. The benefits of a treatment with no medication side-effects and minimal office visits made EMDR an attractive therapy.
“Hello, Vivi, please come in,” Dr. Chatterjee greeted her.
Today she wore a crimson tunic with ornate gold embroidery and edging along with her plentiful gold jewelry and looked positively regal. She led Vivi to one of the loveseats and handed her a bottled water.
“First, make yourself as comfortable as you can. We’ll start the session slowly, and I will count on you to ask me to stop anytime.” Dr. Chatterjee spoke in a soothing voice.
Vivi did as she was asked, telling herself that this was going to be a successful experience. After a few minutes, she indicated she was ready to begin.
“First, I’d like you to recall a thought or vision that relaxes you or makes you feel safe, to use, if needed, during the procedure,” Dr. Chatterjee said.
Vivi thought about that for a long moment. When did she remember feeling the safest? It had to be in her bedroom as a little girl, waking up to the birds chirping and light begging to be let in the window. When she would open her blinds, the whole room brightened, telling her another summer day was ahead. Usually, Nana, Papa and Shane were still in bed, so she would play with her toys and books until she heard kitchen noises and smelled the aroma of coffee downstairs.
“Next, I want you to visualize the day at the fair, including when you were kidnapped,” she said gently. “You may need to go back to your safe place, and that is all right if you do.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” said Vivi bravely.
“Now keep your head still but follow my fingers with your eyes while you are thinking about the fair.” She held up her right index finger and slowly moved it to the right and left repeatedly. “Concentrate on how your body feels when you remember that day.”
Vivi intently watched Dr. Chatterjee’s finger while forcing herself to visualize being separated from her family, clutching her unicorn, and meeting the lady who pretended to help. Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. She felt tears spill down her face despite trying to be strong.
“Can we continue, Vivi, or do you need a break?”
“We can keep going. Give me a minute to go to my safe space.”
Vivi felt her tense chest muscles slacken while she continued to watch the doctor’s roving finger.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Vivi said after a few moments.
“Now, back to the fair. How do you feel when you see the man and lady talking in the parking lot, and you realize they know each other?” asked Dr. Chatterjee.
“Sick to my stomach,” Vivi said, emotion welling from her core.
“Allow yourself to feel sick, and when that lessens, replace the vision with your sunny and safe bedroom.”
“Okay,” said Vivi.
“Keep your eyes on my finger. Now visualize the man forcing you into the van.”
Vivi began to hyperventilate and feel dizzy.
“I can’t! I’m going to faint!”
“Let’s stop here, Vivi. Lie down and I’ll get you a brown paper bag.”
* * *
Vivi was quiet on the ride home. Nana patted her thigh and said, “How’re you doing, kiddo?”
“I’m upset that I freaked out during the treatment.”
“Dr. Chatterjee said you can try again next week.”
“I’m not sure I want to.” Vivi picked at a loose thread on her jeans.
“Don’t give up, honey. You’re stronger than you think.”
They pulled into the driveway and found Shane and Papa working in the yard.
“P, wouldn’t a break and a cold glass of lemonade be awesome right now?” Shane said in a strong voice and winked at Vivi.
“All right, boys. Give me a minute or two. And Pa, I don’t want you working much longer in this heat.” Nana and Vivi went inside to pour some refreshments and put together some snacks.
The four of them sat on the porch cooling off with ice-cold drinks and munching on Wheat Thins and peanut butter. After a few minutes of small talk, Shane spoke up.
“N and P, I want to tell you about my plans for this fall.”
“Go ahead,” said Papa.
“I’m planning to move into an apartment with two guys who are also transferring to the university. We want to live closer to campus. Plus, you guys have babied me for too long.” He grinned at them in jest as he pushed hair from his damp forehead.
“It makes sense,” said Papa. “And campus is only a few miles away.”
“Can I still cook for you on Sundays?” asked Nana.
“Of course! I can’t live on grilled cheese and take-out wings.”
“You know our door is always open,” said Papa.
“I love you guys. I don’t tell you often enough.”
“He actually sa
id the word love!” Vivi teased.
* * *
Vivi wasn’t sure that she could withstand another EMDR session. During their next appointment, she told Dr. Chatterjee about her hesitancy.
“That is your choice, Vivi. My opinion is that you are a good candidate, and we should give it one more try. But you make the final decision.”
Vivi sat in thought for several minutes.
“Will we have to start from the beginning?”
“No need. We can start where we left off last time.”
“Okay, one more time,” bargained Vivi.
“Now get settled in your safe place, and just follow my instructions.” Dr. Chatterjee raised her index finger. “When you are able, I want you to remember how you felt when the man put you in the van.”
Vivi squelched the revulsion that threatened. She kept her eyes on Dr. Chatterjee’s finger and visualized that terrible moment in the parking lot. The man’s greasy hair and raspy voice. And his roughness when he pushed her into the back of the van and tied her hands and legs with the rope. The worst part—having her mouth taped shut and struggling to breathe in the hot, dank van. Reliving this caused her chest to tighten and she began to breathe quickly but forced herself to stay in the moment.
“How did you feel, Vivi?”
“I knew I was going to die, or at least, never see my family again. I was petrified.”
“Stay with the sensation for a few minutes, then I’ll take you back to your safe place.”
Vivi held on. She was determined to deal with the trauma and finally get rid of the hold it had on her. It took every ounce of strength to stay in that nightmare, but she did it.
“Ready?” Dr. Chatterjee asked, continuing to move her finger.
Vivi nodded.
“Now visualize your bright, sunny, cozy bedroom filled with toys and books.”
Vivi let out a deep breath.
“Excellent, Vivi. That’s enough for today.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
2020
I continued to follow the perimeter of the thicket but now I was too far away to hear the flow of the stream. I once again revisited the decision whether I should backtrack to where the thicket began and follow the river, or stay the course, hoping I would be led back toward the river soon. It was early and good weather, so I told myself I would walk for another thirty minutes or so and turn back if I hadn’t made progress.