Lifelines: Kate's Story (14 page)

“What?”
The tears clogged in her throat.

“As
I said, I’ll check the bill. I don’t think I was billed for that call.”

She
understood, then. He needed to say something to fool Wendy, who must be
listening.

“Alain?
Darling? You will come, won’t you?”

“I’m
quite certain we didn’t make that call. I’ll contact you tomorrow.”

She
held the receiver to her ear for a long time after the line went dead. She
couldn’t believe he’d hung up on her. I’ll contact you tomorrow. She wanted his
words to mean he would come to her. He had to fool Wendy, who’d been listening.
He’d been talking in code.

She’d
never called him at home before, so he had to know she was desperate.

K
ate
gestured for Rachel to precede her into the office. Rachel chose the corner
seat and planted her feet together on the carpet in front of the chair, a
bright smile on her face.

Kate
sat across from her. “Rachel, first of all today, I’d like to talk about your
last appointment.”

“I’ve
thought a lot about what you said last time.” Rachel crossed her legs and
linked her fingers together over one knee. “I’m going to talk to Richard, get
him to come with me next Thursday.”

Kate
felt a moment’s disorientation at the innocent sincerity in her client’s eyes.
“Rachel, I think you misunderstood me the last time we met. I don’t counsel
couples once I’ve counseled one of the partners individually. However, I can
refer you and your husband to another therapist.”

As
Rachel leaned forward, intensity dilated her pupils. “You already know our
situation. I wouldn’t be comfortable explaining to someone else.”

“I
do know something about your relationship, Rachel, from your viewpoint. That’s
why—”

“Are
you accusing me of lying to you?”

Count
ten, Kate. Eye contact. Silence.

Rachel
said, “I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult. I told you how
miserable Richard’s been. I need help.  I’ve tried everything and I love him so
much. I’m desperate.”

Get
control of this. Now.

“We
need to slow down, Rachel. You’ve covered a lot of important ground here, and
we need to take it one piece at a time.”

“I
need—”

“Let’s
begin with our relationship, yours and mine. When you came three weeks ago, I
requested that if you missed an appointment, you give me twenty-four hours
notice so another client could have your place. Since you agreed, I was
surprised when you missed your last appointment and didn’t call.”

“I
had a term paper due. I tried to get an extension, but the professor wouldn’t
give me one. I spent the day at the library in Bellingham.”

Term
papers in January. There had been a lot of that going around last month ... first
Jennifer, then Rachel. Was there something about Kate herself that invited
lies?

“There
are telephones at the library.”

Uncertainty
flickered briefly over Rachel’s face. “You said twenty-four hours notice. There
would have been no point in a phone call. It was too late.”

Kate’s
sudden anger had the old flavor of frustrating dealings with Jennifer as a
stubbornly narcissistic two-year-old. “I also said that if you don’t call to
cancel, I bill you for the time.”

Rachel’s
eyes widened. “I’m sure you didn’t. If you had, I would never have missed the
appointment.”

“I
suggest we compromise this time. I’ll charge you half for the missed session,
on the understanding that in future, if you don’t cancel within 24 hours, I’ll
charge the full session fee.”

“I
don’t understand why you’re so antagonistic.” Rachel made a sound very close to
a whimper. “You said you wanted to help. I told you I forgot the appointment;
so how could I have cancelled?”

My
God, this woman is my mother.

A
child. She needed boundaries and clear rules. Charging her a half-fee for a
missed appointment was both appropriate and necessary.

“I
think we understand each other about missed appointments, Rachel. Now, how
would you like to use our time today?”

Kate
gave her twenty seconds; time enough for Rachel to become restless. While she
waited, she settled more comfortably in her own chair and opened her
stance—legs uncrossed and hands loose on the chair arms, body signals to
encourage Rachel’s relaxation.

Finally,
Rachel muttered, “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“You
spoke about your marriage last time. Why don’t you start today with one thing
you’d like to see changed in your relationship with Richard.”

“I
want him back.” Her tears came too easily. “He’s punishing me. He promised to
look after me, to pay my way through law school. He left three weeks ago, just
walked out, and he knows I hate being alone at night.” Rachel’s body tightened
as she spoke, until she ended with her hands clenched and her back erect. “Tell
him it’s time to stop his cruelty and come home.”

Which
did Rachel want most: her husband, or a meal ticket to her law degree?

Kate
leaned forward. “What would happen if you told Richard what you’ve just told
me?”

“He
won’t listen. I try to tell him, but I think he hates me, and I can’t bear it.”

“You
believe your husband hates you?”

Rachel
nodded through noisy sobs.

“Tell
me what you’re feeling now, Rachel.”

The
sobs turned to hiccups.

If
genuine, tears could be therapeutic.

Rachel
pulled a tissue from the box Kate kept beside the chairs and blotted her eyes.
Her mascara appeared to be intact.

“Rachel,
can you put your feelings into words?”

“I
told you. I love Richard. If you don’t help me, I’ll lose him.”

“I’ve
heard you say you love your husband. You also told me you believe he hates you.
Three weeks ago, you said he was abusive.”

“You
don’t understand. Richard is the kindest, most generous man in the world. He
loves me, I know he does, but he’s got this notion in his head—he’s got to get
over it. He needs someone to tell him.”

Kate
let the words settle before she spoke. “I’m confused, Rachel. I hear you tell
me Richard is wonderful, kind, generous, and loving. You’ve also said he’s
angry, abusive, unforgiving.”

“You’re
twisting my words.”

“I’m
repeating your words, and they confuse me. I wonder if you’re confused, too.”

“I’m
not confused. I love my husband.”

“If
you could say just one thing to Richard, what would it be?”

“I
told you, I love him. He promised he’d look after me always. I need him and
he’s got to understand he can’t go on punishing me forever for an accident.”

“Tell
me about the accident, Rachel.”

“How
can you be so cruel, making me say it again? I lost my baby and he won’t
forgive me.”

Last
month’s abortion had transformed itself to this month’s accident. 

“I
think we’ve moved off the track here, Rachel. Let’s focus on your feelings, and
what you might like to say to your husband.”

“I
can’t tell him everything. You have to talk to him.”

This
felt more like a circus ride than a therapy session, and Kate needed all her
wits to challenge Rachel’s distortions with quiet questions. Rachel didn’t
respond to solution-focused pressure, a sign that she wanted vindication, not
change. She persisted in her determination that Kate talk to Richard.

Kate
had helped other clients who began therapy by producing absent partners as the
problem. It usually took a couple of sessions to establish trust, and Kate gave
most clients that time before she played hardball.

In
the next session, Rachel’s third, Kate would push harder.

When
the clock’s hands pointed twenty to the hour, Kate said, “We’ve explored a lot
of territory today, Rachel, some of it emotionally exhausting. Can you tell me
what you feel now?”

“I’m
fine. I’ll bring Richard next Thursday, like you said.”

“Rachel,
you seem to have trouble accepting that I won’t talk to Richard. That’s your
job. Would you like to spend the rest of this session on techniques that might
help you communicate with your husband?”

Rachel
blinked twice, an innocent child’s face in a woman’s body. “Do you think that
might work? Tell me, then. Give me the right words to make him come back.”

A
fter
Rachel left, Kate studied the empty chair until Sarah’s knock interrupted her. 

“How
did it go?”

Kate
grimaced. “Emotionally, she’s maybe four years old; nothing matters but her own
desires. She’s accumulated an arsenal of tools. When one doesn’t work, she
tosses in the next. I feel like I’ve gone fifty minutes on a rodeo horse.”

“But
you stayed on the horse?”

“I
treated her like a child. Firmness, repetition—it feels like a major victory. I
may try it on my mother.” Kate shifted out of the seat. “I need a big salad and
a hot bath.”

“Why
don’t you come over for Lucy’s party tomorrow?”

Lucy
had appeared in Sarah’s life six months ago when her son married a single
mother with a five year old daughter. Sarah had taken to grandmothering with
enthusiasm, and Kate wondered what she would feel when Jennifer had children.

“The
party’s at four,” said Sarah. “And you need to get out.”

“I’m
not going to crash your granddaughter’s party, but I promise I’ll get out this
weekend.”

Sarah
said, “I’m proud of you for keeping Rachel as a client. No one would have
criticized you for ducking her.”

Kate
said soberly, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Sarah. You’re the
voice of sanity inside my head. Sometimes the world doesn’t feel real, and your
voice is the only presence inside my head that doesn’t hurt.”

Sarah
squeezed Kate. “I’m going to cry, and Todd and I are going out to dinner
tonight.”

“Rachel
can sob her heart out without any damage to her mascara. My mother knows that
trick, too.”

“How
are you doing there?”

Kate
made a face. “She’s furious when I ask about the man she gave the money to. She
insists it’s her business, and I don’t know what to do about either her or
Jennifer. I feel like a bad mother and a bad daughter, but I’m going to focus
on finding my father and getting the pottery wheel and kiln in service. My deal
with the universe is that if I do that, and counsel Rachel, the rest will work
out if I just bumble along.”

M
ac
stood with one foot on the bottom bar of one of the sawhorses, reviewing the
supplies list with Denny.

“Better
get an extra square of shingles.”

Denny
nodded and asked, “What about the decking?”

“Next
week,” said Mac, “after the owner pays our progress billing.”

They
both looked up at the sound of an approaching car. Mac recognized the sound of
Rachel’s green 1995 Honda. He’d bought the car for her two years ago last
Christmas, only twenty thousand miles on it and a virgin paint job. Now he
straightened and shoved his thumbs into his pockets.

“You
named your baby yet?” he asked Denny.

“We
settled on Connor. Strong-willed or wise.”

Mac
concentrated on Denny, because he wasn’t ready to look at Rachel. He heard her
car door slam, and he said, “Does it have to be a choice? Strong will or
wisdom? Can’t you give the baby both?”

“The
program said or, but I figure it means both.”

Denny
waved at Rachel and called out, “Hey, Rachel! How goes it?”

“Check
the oil before you head for Seattle tomorrow,” said Mac.

“Right,”
agreed Denny, and ambled towards his car.

Mac
heard his wife laugh as Denny passed her. He remembered her laughter from their
first date. He’d said he liked her hair and she’d turned her head and asked if
he thought she was beautiful, then laughed. He’d thought then that her laughter
was a gentle mocking of herself, but now he wasn’t sure.