What She Didn't Know (What She 1)

Shelly wasn’t Lynn, and she couldn’t pretend well enough to fool me.

Shelly answered all the questions in the group, using words that Lynn would have used in the way that Lynn would have used them.

“Lynn,” my mother asked, “when you think about the future, where do you see yourself? It’s important to have goals and plans. What are yours?”

“I see myself old and alone,” Shelly said. Her eyes stared into mine as she talked. “I see myself being so fucked-up that no normal man will ever choose me for a lifetime. Since no normal man would ever be crazy enough to pick me, I’ll settle for someone who’s less than normal, someone who is a little crazy himself.”

Mom began to fidget.

“There’s no such thing as normal,” Mom began. I’d heard this phrasing my whole life. Mom always said that normal is a precept that people try to achieve. That it’s an uncompromising, jealous finish line that no one will ever reach.

“Yes, there is. Normal is real. It’s just not meant for someone like me.”

Mom set her clipboard on her lap. “Define normal for me, Lynn.”

“Normal, for me, would be finding a husband. Together we would make a family. Our children would make more children, and we would all live happily ever after in a big house on a hill. It would be neat and tidy, just like the mother’s mind. It’s not cluttered and junky like mine. The dad’s mind would be rigid and strong. He would not be wishy-washy or duplicitous. He would be stalwart and solid and dependable. He would be a man that I could trust.”

She stopped talking on a big breath of air, kind of like a balloon that suddenly loses its fullness.

Mom stared at her so long that it became uncomfortable.

Other people in the group began to talk, and the silence was broken. I stared at Shelly all through the rest of the therapy session, and she didn’t say any more. She winked at me once, and it was such a Lynn thing to do that it startled me.

Maybe Lynn did feel all those things. Maybe Lynn didn’t think life could ever have any semblance of normalcy. If that was the case, then what were we doing? Where would this lead?

After group was over, Mom left to speak to one of the group members in her office. Shelly lingered. I started to put the chairs away.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around me from behind. Shelly laid her cheek on my back. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I placed my hands over hers and gave hers a squeeze, even though I knew they weren’t Lynn’s hands. Shelly had an agenda, and I needed to know what it was. “What you said during group, did you mean that?”

“Every word.”

I lifted her hands so I could turn around in her arms. She pressed her face against my chest and held me even tighter. It was a very Lynn thing to do.

She dragged her fingers down my side, and her thumb slipped into the waistband of my jeans. My back stiffened, but I tried to stay still. It was hard, though, with Shelly’s hands exploring my body. It brought about equal feelings of helplessness and overwhelming hatred. Hatred seemed like such a harsh word at the time.

“I think we should get out of here and go to your apartment.”

By this time, I was doing my residency and I lived alone.

“Why?”

She tipped her head back so she could look up at me. “Why do you think?” she said on a laugh. Her hand slipped around to the front of my pants and her thumb began to work the button on my jeans.

Bile crept up my throat. “Stop it,” I said.

She froze. “What? Why? What’s wrong, Mason?”

I grabbed her face, my grip rougher than I wanted it to be, yet lighter than she deserved. “Stop fucking with me, Shelly.”

“Stop it, Mason,” she said, but I could already see the apprehension in her eyes. “You know I’m not Shelly.”

I wrapped my hands around her throat and pushed her back from me, but I didn’t let her go. Fear sharpened her gaze. My thumbs pressed the front of her throat.

“You’re hurting me, Mason,” she said. She wrapped her hands around my wrists and started to pull. When she realized I wasn’t going to let go, she softened her grasp. “Mason,” she purred. She stepped onto her tiptoes and brought her lips closer to mine. I pushed her back, and finally let her go.

“Go home, Shelly,” I said, my voice tight. I was filled with shame because of the absolute rage that flowed through my veins.