“Nervous?” Her hand is playing the drums on the partition between their seats as he drives her towards her first therapy appointment.
“Yes. God knows I want to do this, need to. It is just...” He covers her bouncing hand with one of his own.
“I can't say I understand. But, I will be here. Waiting with open arms, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear.”
“You are the best.” She links their fingers.
He leads her into the building then leaves her to speak to the receptionist. He knows she has to do it herself. She joins him after. He re-takes her hand after as she waits.
“Chloé Laurent?” She jumps. He tightens his hand, kisses her forehead.
“I will be right here.” She nods and stands. She follows the lady back. She leads her into a room that looks like a living room. She is offered a seat.
“Mrs. Robin will by right in.” She is told. Okay then. She slips into the recliner. A few minutes later, Mrs. Robin arrives.
“So sorry I am late. Bad form not meet my clients when they first come in. Had an emergency.”
“It is alright. Things happen.”
“Chloé, I am Mrs. Robin. I will help you find your strength. Recover from the evil done to you. Now, what specifically do you wish to get out of therapy?” She looks lost so she adds, “I know you want a lot. We will attempt to do it all but, if you could sum it all up in one sentence…”
“That they would leave me be.” Softly said.
“Nightmares?”
“Yes. I recently started dating. He is sweet, kind, patient, strong, and so bloody courageous. They don’t like him.” She looks down at the intake form she had filled out.
“Your dad and ex?”
“Yah. God to trust him! It is a day to day, moment by moment thing.”
“You have yet to be intimate?”
“Yes. I want to be free of them. Or freer. I don’t want any part of my past to intrude on my future.”
“Quite self aware.”
“I went into therapy after my ex raped me. She encouraged me to get right back on the horse.” Mrs. Robin t'sked. “Exactly. I thought I could deal with it on my own. But I can't. Michael he is going to school to be a therapist himself. But to have him be the only one who hears me. Well it seems unwise.”
“To right. I am glad you have support outside this office but you are right. You need more. I am glad you came to me and sorry you had to deal with a bad therapist.”
“Yah she was… so do I just tell you my story or...?”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I choose my ex because he was like my dad. I should have had some therapy earlier.”
“Your father is he still around?”
“No he is dead. I was both relieved and grieved at hearing he passed.”
“Not uncommon.”
“I didn’t have closure. So Malcolm. God he was a bastard! Cruel abusive controlling. I thought I deserved it. That I wasn’t worth more. It wasn’t until he raped me that I woke up.”
“You did. Lot's don't.”
“Yes. I did. Helped. I stayed wrapped up in myself. Michael got through. I am scared Mrs. Robin.”
“That he will hurt you?”
“No. That I will hurt him. That I will freak and run. I am not used to being treated well.”
“Do you feel you deserve it?”
“Some days. Some days I wonder what he sees in a lady like me.”
“That is what we will work on. Building up your self esteem. For as we do, their power over you fades. You are deserving of love.”
Twenty minutes later, she comes out. He stands with open arms. She walks into them.
“Okay?”
“I really like her. It was hard but good.”
“I am glad.”
“Will be back next week. Take me home.”
“Yes ma'am.”
***
It was Mrs. Robin's idea. To have her journal every day. To write something uplifting about herself. To also write whatever else she wanted.
“Of your day. The past. Whatever you want. But I want you writing good things about yourself too. Even if it is just something simple as ‘ my hair looks good.’ We need to be about getting you to see yourself as the worthy girl you are.”
So she sits and does the morning after seeing her. Not even close to ready to write of the past, she first writes of the day.
“Michael stopped and got take-a-way after therapy. Said he knew neither of us was up for cooking or cleaning. A very considerate man is Michael. We just cuddled on the couch after and watched trashy TV. Exactly what I needed.
I need to write something good about myself. Michael says I am brave. Does it count if it comes from someone else? Well, it will do for today.”
She closes it with a sigh. She jumps for a moment when she feels hands on her shoulder. Relaxing when she realizes it is Michael, she sinks into the massage he is offering. Her sighs of contentment fill the room.
“You looked tense.”
“Yah. Was doing the homework Mrs. Robin assigned.”
“Hum,” he presses lower and she gasp as the knot there unlocked. “what did she assign you?” She explains.
“I can’t yet do the past. Present is easy. I am just having trouble finding positive things to say about myself. Kind of the point of the exercise.”
“Yes it is. I have a whole list of your positive traits.”
“I used one today but can't keep doing that.” She confesses.
“Which one?” asks as he works up to the back of her neck. She sighs, letting her head drop to give him full access.
“Bravery.” Said from out from under the curtain of her hair.
“Good one. You don't see yourself as brave?”
“Some days. I guess it took bravery to get away from Malcolm.”
“Yes, and to stay gone. To start to trust us. To tell me of your father. To see Mrs. Robin.” He catalogues as he pulls all the tension out of her neck.
“Okay. I see your point.”
“Good. I propose.” She stiffens under his hands. “not that idiot. No, we make a list. No several lists, of the stuff about you that you find. One in your room, by the bathroom mirror, on the fridge. Add to them daily. Validation. Daily self esteem boasting.”
“It would feel like bragging.”
“Why shouldn’t we?” He moves so he can see her face. “I long to brag about you. Your strength, courage, sweetness. You won't permit me outside this house so, by God, I will in.” He walks out of the room. She swallows hard. She so doesn’t deserve him.
He returns with three sheets of college ruled paper. He takes a seat at the table beside her. Picking up a pen, he writes on the top of each, ‘ Chloé is:’ Under that he writes brave. He then places them. The one in her room he tacks in the center of the cork board she has there.
“We will add to them daily.”
“We?”
“Yes. Something I see in you and something you do.”
“God Michael.” Tears drip down her eyes. He wordlessly wraps her in his arms.