“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say, not wanting to enter farther into the room than I’ve already stepped. “You said you’d be done with your session, and I wanted to catch you afterward. I need your help with the twins. They are scheduled to take their tests at the DMV for their learners’ permits in an hour, and I can’t take them. I got called into work.”
Jeremy looks uncomfortable. Dr. Greening, who has returned to her chair close to Jeremy’s, reaches out and squeezes his hand. It’s like a punch to the gut, and I inhale deeply. The way she’s turned toward Jeremy, the way she’s looking at him, the worried look on her face, it’s obvious she’s attracted to him and cares deeply for him.
But probably what’s worse is knowing that Jeremy allows the contact, allows this Dr. Greening to touch him. It’s more than he’s allowed me to have with him. His face is so red, he’s probably angry that I’m here, and it makes me feel even more rejected and betrayed. He grunts his displeasure at me. “A text message would’ve worked. I’ll take them.”
It would’ve worked if you answered your phone, I think, but I don’t say out loud. I’m so overcome with emotion that I can’t look at Jeremy anymore, not without crying.
I have to walk into the room, and I do so quickly. I lay the paperwork on the table next to him because even touching him to hand him papers will cause him to tense up. I know that. “Here’s the paperwork you’ll need.”
But the whole time, I can’t look at my husband of twenty years. I know that I’ll get that same distant look. That’s the only one he gives me anymore. Instead, I look at Dr. Greening.
The good doctor smiles at me. “If you have the time, you’re welcome to stay. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”
I try to smile at her, but I’m sure it looks more like a cringe. She’s more welcoming and inviting to me than my own husband. “No thank you. I really do have to go. I’m sorry to have interrupted your session.”
Dr. Greening starts to say something, but I don’t stick around to find out what it is. I pull the door shut without another glance at Jeremy. Being rejected by him weighs heavily on me as I walk back to my car. I can’t keep doing this. My positive attitude from before is gone, and now all I can do is wonder where we go from here.
2
Jeremy
I stare at the closed door Peggy just walked out of. There’s a deep burning in my gut. It feels like it’s been there the whole last year, but it’s worse right now. I hate for my wife, the woman that I vowed to love and protect almost twenty years ago, to see me like this. Just seeing me here, vulnerable like this, had her practically running from the room. I knew all the times she asked to come it was a bad idea. Now I know it was. She was obviously disgusted with me; it was obvious from the way she couldn’t even look at me.
“You seem upset, Jeremy. Do you want to talk about why you don’t want to bring your wife into therapy with us?” Dr. Greening asks.
I sigh in frustration. “No. I don’t want to talk about that again. I’d rather talk about why I’m no closer to being who I was before the... accident. It’s been a year of this therapy, and I’m not near the man I was when I left. This isn’t working.”
I want to get up and pace. It’s amazing that I’ve never noticed it before, but I’m definitely a pacer. Since the bomb went off, the need to pace is immense. It’s just one more thing I’ve had to give up.
Dr. Greening scoots closer to me, and I look away. I can barely stand to look anyone in the face anymore because I’m sick of seeing their pity. “I understand your frustration, Jeremy, but what you’re saying isn’t true. When we first began therapy, you were so upset that you had to be driven around every time you needed to leave the house. You’re driving now, you’ve learned to use the hand brake and accelerator, you’ve paved your way back to independence. You’ll continue to gain more and more independence. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re making great progress.”
What good is progress when I’m still going to be a burden to my family and disgust my wife?
I think it, but I don’t say it out loud. I’ve never let our conversations include my wife. It’s as if I need to keep her out of this. She’s already gone through so much, I don’t want to bring her even further into it. It feels like I can’t protect her from anything else, but I can protect her from what’s talked about in this room. I at least owe her that.