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To my relief, Anna has been coming home later and later. It feels strange to say that, but it’s the truth. That last session with Linda left me shaken—and I don’t mean a little. I’ve been thinking about her more than I should. Maybe I’m not cut out for this business.
I hate thinking that way. It’s just that I’ve never been in this position. Could I have had something to do with the way Linda acted? Damn it! I no longer have a supervisor. I’m flying this plane solo, and there is no safe landing place in sight.
Maybe it’s not so much what I’ve done as what I haven’t done. I’ve got to stop with the rationalizations. I know my mistake. I allowed myself to fantasize about her. Still, I’m human. I don’t want to be totally objective about her. I couldn’t do my job if I didn’t care.
It doesn’t help that Anna is gone all the time. Our earlier intimacy has become a distant memory. I wonder what’s going on with the wedding plans.
***
I got to the office a little early which gave me time to reflect. I soon regretted it. A familiar, sour heat began creeping up the back of my throat. I pressed my hand to my sternum, trying to massage away the sudden, cramping pain.
I had read about therapists feeling attracted to clients, but studying about it was abstract—kind of like reading about a war in the newspaper. It doesn’t compare to being in a gun battle. And last time, I felt like I spent all session ducking for cover.
Having no idea just which Linda would come through the door, I straightened my spine and welcomed her. She entered slowly, eyes straight ahead. Before even sitting down, she started. “Bill, I’m so sorry. Last time—that wasn’t like me.”
I felt a wave of tension as it flowed right out. I was wise enough to keep a little—just in case. “This office is a special place. It’s okay to express yourself here in a way you wouldn’t do elsewhere.” I then slumped back. What did I just tell her?
Fortunately, she was no longer in that head space. Was I?
“Well, it’s not okay with me. That wasn’t like me. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I was coming on to you. And even the idea of trying to hit on you repulses me.”
I gulped. “What does it say to you that it happened here?”
Her mouth twisted. “Yeah, I kind of thought about that. I know it’s because you’re safe. But that’s still no excuse.”
I smiled. “You’re right. Better here than in a bar with strangers.”
She sighed. “Okay, you’ve got a point. The thing is, Bill, I’m 28 years old and just realized that I haven’t yet figured out who I am.”
She paused as she looked to the side. “I took a chance with you. I’m not used to doing that. I guess I might as well come out and ask something that’s been on my mind.” She paused and looked directly at me with a faint and inconsistent smile. Her voice softened as she slowly ran her thumb over her purse. “How do you feel about me?”
Yes, indeed. I had relaxed too quickly. “Linda. I respect you too much to give you a safe answer. Instead, I’ll ask you the question I’m asking myself. What is the answer that would best serve you?”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re saying that you like me. Then you’re giving me some therapy bull. That question I asked...it wasn’t easy for me.”
I shook my head, my stomach dropping out beneath me as if the chair had suddenly vanished. “Anything but. I was giving you the most honest response I can under these circumstances.”
She leaned forward. “Oh, I get it.” Her smile broadened. “You can’t talk about that sort of thing here in your office.”
I frowned as I shook my head again. “Linda, what is it you’re trying to say?”
She returned my frown as she mirrored my head shake. “I want to talk about us. I’ve felt some special feelings here with you.”
This time, I nodded in encouragement, gripping the pen until the plastic dug painfully into my index finger. “Why do you think that is?”
Her facial muscles tightened as she diverted her eyes. “Your questions sometimes confuse me. Why do you keep asking about things that don’t seem to matter?”
I perked up. “What sort of things?”
Her eyes wandered the small room. “I don’t know. Stuff like what I’m doing with my life…how I feel about my family.”
I couldn’t stop a chuckle. “Makes sense. Those things are trivial.”
Her fingers whitened as she grabbed the purse strap.
I tensed. I needed to do something, but what? “Linda, my sense of humor sometimes gets out of whack. Please know that I take you seriously, and I do care about you.”
A smile began to appear as she leaned back. “Then I was right. You do have feelings for me.”
“Sure, I like you and want you to have the best possible life. But it doesn’t affect my work with you.”
She leaned forward again as her eyes opened wide. “You still haven’t told me. Was I right? Is there an ‘us?’ I mean after we finish with all this?”
My nose started itching—really itching. Not a good time to scratch it. Out of nowhere, it came to me. “ What you just said—’all this’ is perfect. It gives us walls to work within.”
Once again, her purse dropped on the floor with a thud. My shoulders jerked, and my heart skipped a beat.
Then, she seemed to soften. “I guess I see your point. I do need to work on other things.”
Miraculously, the pain in my stomach disappeared. “Everyone has issues in their lives. I think that’s a worthwhile shift.”
She looked around the room, finding nothing for her eyes to land on. “Then, I guess we need to talk about Rick. He’s at the center of it all.” She pursed her lips. “I have to almost laugh at myself for calling him the center. He’s hardly even in the picture.”
I sat back. “I take it he’s supposed to be part of the picture-perfect life you had planned?”
She looked down, folding her arms together. “Bill, I hate to say it, but you’re disappointing me just about as much as he is.”
My heart skipped a beat. Maybe not so easy after all. I wondered if FedEx has any openings.
Luckily, no response was needed. She sat forward abruptly. “Do men just not understand women? You just want us to take care of you and make you happy. Otherwise, we’re supposed to be like furniture.”
“That’s been building for some time I take it.”
She looked at me through squinted eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think your anger is spilling out on me.”
She clutched her purse. “You wouldn’t understand. I wish I had called a woman therapist.”
Forcing my breathing to stay even, I sat there. I didn’t even scratch my nose, though God help me, I wanted to.
Eventually, she said, “Maybe that wasn’t fair. I guess I’m pretty upset with you. For some reason, you insist on talking about things that frustrate me. I can’t do anything about Rick. He’s just the way he is.”
“What does that mean—the way he is?”
“I hate to come out and say this, but he’s been a real disappointment.”
“That’s quite a statement.”
The rigid line of her shoulders sank. She set her purse beside her with a heavy exhale. “Okay, I’m not being totally fair. It’s just that he’s moved on, leaving me behind. He’s not a bad husband in the sense that he provides. He doesn’t treat me badly.” She paused momentarily. “Unless you consider ignoring me as treating me badly.”
“You have mixed feelings. It makes sense.”
She sat up, speaking more rapidly. “Maybe it makes sense to you. It doesn’t to me. I’ve tried hard to be a good wife. I’ve created a comfortable, pleasant home, but he doesn’t want to spend any time there. He’s either working, playing golf with his friends, or watching football.”
“How was he supposed to fit into your plan?”
Once more, her eyes wandered the room. She crossed her legs and pursed her lips. “I don’t know exactly. I just know he isn’t what I wanted him to be.”
“Past tense?”
She looked up quickly. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that. Have I given up on our relationship?”
I wondered if it would help if I sneezed. I wanted to take a sandblaster to my nose.
She said, “It hurts to even think that. I’ve been doing all the things I know to do.”
“You’ve been following a script.”
She picked up her purse again. “I don’t like what you just said.”
I stayed silent.
“You’re putting it back on me, aren’t you?”
I sat with her quietly, hoping my stomach would do the same.
She sat back. “I guess there’s more to it than having a neat house and dinner ready.”
“Are you talking about for him or for you?”
She sat quietly with her head down, eyes focused on her purse.
“Linda, what are you feeling?”
A blotchy, crimson flush crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks. “I’m just plain mad! I feel so cheated. I bought into this fantasy of what a great life we were going to share. Then he goes off and has his own great life leaving me behind.”
“I’m guessing it hasn’t always been that way.”
She looked out the window and said, “I’m really not even sure anymore. Was any of it ever for real? He’s such a con man.”
“Is that what you really think?”
“Yeah, the only real feelings he has are for himself. And I’m not even sure those are real.”
She suddenly stood.
I dropped my pen. “Linda, what are you doing?”
Without looking at me, she retrieved her purse and started to rise. “I’m just wasting my time here. You’re not going to help. You’re just another Rick.”
I picked up my pen from the floor. It was right next to her leg. I looked up quickly. “Well, you won’t know unless you stick around to find out.”
She turned to look at me. “Find out what?”
“What are you looking for?”
She stopped halfway to the door. Slowly, ever so slowly, she returned to her seat.
I said, “This hits close to home.”
Her nostrils flared. “Of course it does. We’re talking about my home! It feels empty, just like me.”
“You feel like he’s let you down.”
Her eyes narrowed to tight slits. “Of course.”
“In what way?”
She snorted. “Isn’t it obvious?”
I didn’t say anything.
Finally, she clutched the arms of her chair and said, “Okay, I’ll admit it. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
I furrowed my brow. “Linda, I’m not looking for anything.”
“You’re going to say it, so I might as well come out with it. I blame him for how I feel.”
“You assume I’m going to blame you for thinking that?”
She snorted. “Of course, you are. Blame the woman. Isn’t that always the way?”
“Who exactly is blaming you?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Okay, okay. I’m blaming myself for blaming him. You happy?”
“Linda, it’s not about me.”
She laughed almost inaudibly. “That was silly. I hate to admit it, but I feel pretty stupid.”
I leaned toward her as I uncrossed my legs. “Stupid how?”
“You’re going to drag it out of me, aren’t you? Okay, I’m blaming him for my unhappiness instead of taking responsibility.”
“That’s not exactly what I’m hearing.”
She nodded slowly as she leaned back. “Yeah, I guess I am taking responsibility. It isn’t easy, and it isn’t necessarily fun. It’s like when I had to own the way I viewed my father’s criticism.”
“Do you also have a choice in how you view our process?”
She looked past me for a few seconds. “Well, I do kind of like talking with you… most of the time.”
I laughed. “I never promised you a rose garden.”
She joined my laughter. “Well, you do bring along a little rain sometimes.”
Linda’s Journal
April 7
I never would have believed it. I was still totally obsessed with Bill when I went to see him. Yet somehow, after just a few minutes, I forgot all about him. Instead, I got involved with my feelings for Rick. It felt so good to be in a situation where I could unload all my resentment.
I had no idea that I blamed Rick so much for what’s wrong with my life. Believe me, there are plenty of women who would be more than happy to steal him if they could. I think I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of things that are wrong between us. I just don’t think that there’s any way to fix them.
He doesn’t really control me overtly, but he’s been pretty effective in getting me to do whatever it is he wants. I really wanted to go to graduate school, but I gave it up because he complained about the cost. I finally decided that it just wasn’t worth it. He criticizes everything I try to do. He wants me staying at home so that I can take care of him, and I guess that’s what I’ve let my life become.
That wouldn’t be so terrible by itself. What really bugs me, though, is that he doesn’t pay any attention to me. I might as well be his maidservant. And, heaven forbid if I ever show any type of feelings. He wants everything in his home life safe and predictable. God, what a boring life I’ve bought into just to try to keep him happy.
I wonder if Bill has any ideas about how I could change things. I feel like I’ve already tried everything under the sun. I’m sick of reading advice columns that provide nothing more than glib, useless solutions. Oh well, I’m going to do my best to keep an open mind.
Rick’s Journal
April 9
I feel like I’m about to blow. The damn trial is dragging out with continuances. I could shoot myself for ever taking the case. I keep taking on more clients than I can handle. I feel like I need to do something to get a grip on things.
But that’s not what I’m really upset about. I keep asking Linda to tell me about her expensive chats with the wimp. I certainly have a right to know what goes on. After all, I’m the one footing the bill. She’s been stonewalling me until this week.
When I asked, I expected the usual lame excuse, like saying that it’s personal. This time she decided to let me have it. She said that the shrink is telling her that I don’t give her enough attention. Where does he think he gets off? And that wasn’t even the worst of it. He told her he likes her, even if I don’t. Sounds like he’s trying to get her to divorce me!
Ever since we talked, I’ve had this image of her in bed with the guy. It doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t say those things unless he wanted her for himself. I’m not in the best of shape, but I’m not afraid of some psychologist. I’m going to surprise them and find out just what’s been going on behind my back.
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