Not even anything for yourself.
We come to a stop in front of a door. I squint to make out the name on the gold plate. Dr. Crawford.
“You can go on in, she’s expecting you.”
I lift my hand in a wave to the girl that led me here. Even though I’ve been given the okay to go in, I still knock. I’m not the type to go barging in.
“Come in.”
The voice is muffled through the door, tinged with a little bit of down home, and a whole lot of distraction. When I go in, she’s shuffling papers on her desk.
I half-expect Mandy to already be here, but looks like it’s just myself and doctor right now. She glances up and gives me a welcoming smile.
“You must be Dalton.”
I rush forward, holding my hand out to her. Wanting to do nothing more than thank her for giving me my wife back. “I am, nice to meet you Dr. Crawford.”
We shake hands and she gestures to the couch along the wall. “Please have a seat. I just wanted to discuss a few things before Mandy joins the session. Nothing horrible, but when I have a couple who’ve dealt with the type of trauma you’re dealing with, I like to go in with both sides of the story.”
The word trauma hits me right in the middle of my chest. Is that what we’ve been dealing with this entire time? Is that why this has felt so much worse?
I do my best not to look like I’m about to throw up. Exposing myself has never been easy, especially all the shit I have going on inside my brain.
“I want you to be aware; even though I’ve been Mandy’s therapist from day one, I don’t go easy on her. If there’s something that needs to be discussed, bring it up. This session isn’t going to be about feeling good, per se. It will be about getting everything out in the open. Even if you don’t figure it all out today, you’ll have started the exercise.”
“Understood. Sometimes I’m scared of confronting her. Not because I’m scared of her, but I’m scared of her reaction.”
“That’s completely fair, and precisely why this needs to happen here.”
There’s a knock at the door, and I hear her voice before I see her. It’s only been a little while, but damn I miss her. Everything about her.
She sees me, smiling immediately and I smile right back. Nothing could stop it from answering her. Even though I know this session is going to be tough, I want her to realize I’m here for her, always.
I stride over, scooping her up in my arms, holding her against me tightly. The only thing that forces me to let her go is the doctor clearing her throat.
Sheepishly we separate, but if given the option, I’d hold her all day long.
“If you two would have a seat on the couch, we can get this session started.”
Immediately my stomach is in knots, trying to anticipate what’s going to happen in this room. We take seats, not close enough to touch knees, but not on opposite sides of the couch either.
My gaze is fixated on the doctor, trying to figure out what she’s going to say, trying to guess what she wants to accomplish with us.
She takes out a pen, crosses her legs, and puts the notebook in her lap. Her long, thin fingers adjust her glasses, and then she starts to speak. “Before I feel comfortable deciding Mandy can come home, I need you two to do a few things for me.”
“I’ll do anything to go home.” Mandy’s quick to respond.
“I’ll do anything to have her home,” I echo.
“It won’t be that easy, I’m warning you. I’m asking you two to go deep, maybe to places you don’t want to go. But it’s necessary. Your marriage and your mental health depend on it. I’m going to ask you some hard questions, and I expect honest answers. This isn’t a place for sugar coating or bullshit. This is a safe place to exonerate any feelings of anger or resentment, and that’s what I plan to do here today. You understand?”
Both of us whisper yes.
But my hands tremble, wondering what she’s going to ask. If what she voices will set Mandy back. I’m fucking scared of it, but at the same time I want it. Because if either of us are going to break down, I want it to be in a place like this, where hopefully we can break without pulling apart.
“Dalton, how pissed were you when Mandy asked you to leave? And why did you do it?”
Going right for the fucking jugular.
I’m quiet for a few minutes, her stare square on me. “The truth.”
“Extremely pissed. She wasn’t taking care of anything at the time. Not the house, not the bills, Walker, me, or herself.”
I can feel Mandy tense. It becomes almost palpable in the room.
“Then why did you leave?” she whispers.
She’s asked me this question before, and I gave her the answer she wanted to hear. This time; not so much.
“Because it was fucking depressing.” My throat is tight. “Being in that house, watching you shrink into yourself. Seeing how Walker was changing. Knowing that it didn’t matter what I did. You would still blame me.”
“I wouldn’t have,” she argues.
“But you did. You never said the words, but you didn’t wait for me at the hospital. Your brother drove you, and by the time I got there, you were already in surgery.”
“It wasn’t about you,” she hisses.
“The fuck it wasn’t,” I hiss back. “That was as much my baby as it was yours. I deserved to be there. Not to be treated like a second-class citizen. You couldn’t even call me and tell me what the fuck was going on. I got that call from Drew.”
Dr. Crawford interrupts. “Why did this hurt you?”
I take a deep breath, widening my lungs as I inhale. “Because my entire life I’ve felt like a second-class citizen.”
“Here we
