*
Dr. Hashimi is a soft spoken, petite, (the only word to describe him), Indian doctor who has permanent laugh lines in his small face. His demeanor is kind and gentle, but he is very serious about his patient’s complete well-being. He calls John into his office while Elsie is with the physical therapists, working on the mobility of her injured arm.
“Thanks for talking with me, John,” Dr. Hashimi begins.
Is the guy serious? John thinks.
“No, Doc, we need to thank you for how endearing you’ve been with Elsie. You knew exactly how she needed to be treated. She may be tough, but she needs a little extra TLC,” John tells him.
“I’m glad to hear you talk like that John. Because there are a couple of things I need to speak to you about today,” the doctor continues, as he leans forward and clasps his hands in front of him on the desk.
John instantly becomes on guard. He knows immediately that he’s not going to like this.
“Just tell me, Doc.” John’s stiff as he’s waiting for the blow.
“Did you know that Elsie was raped before?” the doctor asks him plainly.
The blow of the shock almost knocks John out of his chair.
“No, I didn’t,” he quietly states.
“And all of those scars, from the gashes on her body, is how she dealt with it.” The doctor pauses a moment before he continues. “Every one of those cuts was self-inflicted. I reviewed her records from her family doctor back then, some of them required medical attention, stitches, and she received therapy for a short while afterwards.”
“I had an idea that the scars were self-inflicted, but I didn’t want to press her on it. I figured she’d tell me when she was ready.”
Dr. Hashimi leans forward even more, getting as close to John, across the big mahogany desk, as he can.
“John, I’m going to be frank with you. You’re an intelligent man and have been through and survived a lot, more than anyone else I know.”
“I appreciate that Doc, I would hope that you were. I don’t know how to deal with the situation if I don’t know what the situation is.”
“Elsie is suffering from PTSD, you’re familiar with that. The latest assault has triggered all of the garbage from the first. She is having a very hard time, and I’m just hoping that she doesn’t fall back on her old coping mechanism of self-mutilation. She needs to get into therapy immediately, and I would recommend that you attend as well, you could consider it as AL Anon for PTSD sufferers. I have to tell you that I’m seriously concerned where this could take her, if she doesn’t get help now,” Dr. Hashimi finishes, not holding anything back, as he looks John directly in the eye.
“I appreciate your candor, Doctor,” is all that John can manage.
“I’ve had my receptionist arrange a preliminary appointment for both of you, here is the address and the time. Make sure she gets there John, or you could really lose her…for good,” he says stone-faced as he passes John a stark white appointment card with black writing on it.
“Thank you,” John mumbles as he takes the card.
If John were just a regular civilian, he would have been unprepared for the shit that just hit the fan, and hit him in the face in the process.
The storm he was worried about has finally arrived.
*
“Why don’t we stop for lunch since we’re out today, Angel, what would you like to eat?” John asks Elsie as he slides into the driver’s side as they’re leaving Dr. Hashimi’s office.
He thinks it would be best not to bring up the therapy recommendation yet. John’s sure the doctor brought it up to Elsie as well, and frankly he’d rather she start the conversation about it, not him. But he’ll give her a set amount of time to do so, and if she doesn’t, then he will.
“Oh my God, I would love to have a big messy burger and greasy French fries. Don’t get me wrong,” she says, describing the burger almost orgasmicly, “You’re a great cook and you’ve been taking amazing care of me but sometimes a girls got to slum it and eat crap food.”
John’s head falls back as he laughs good and hard for the first time in over a week.
“Whatever you want, Angel, you just have to ask,” he says as he leans in to kiss her pretty pinkish green lips.
Elsie visibly stiffens, from the show of affection, but she doesn’t pull away. John notices, but doesn’t say anything about it, and goes on as if nothing happened. This is something he’d need to ask the therapist about; should he let these things go or talk through them? You know, kind of addressing the elephant in the room sort of thing.
“So where would you like to go, Baby Girl?” John asks her, his heart swelling at the slight glimpse of the Elsie from before the accident. His girl with so much life and zest and passion. Anger and fear have moved in and what worries him the most is not knowing how long they are going to stay. Not for himself, but for her.
“Let’s go to Sonic, then we don’t have to get out of the car. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s appetite with my disgusting face,” she decides, with a tinge of her new companions in her voice, anger and self-loathing, peeking through. Her face is down and he can tell she’s blushing from the red on her ear.
“Hey, Angel,” he begins, “look at me.” He’s trying to lift her face towards him with a finger under her chin.
She’s resisting and clamps her eyes tightly shut.
“Elsie, you are the most beautiful and amazing woman I have ever met. For so long I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy………until you. You, with your passion for life, your way of making everything
