(8) I am what I am

I went through two weeks and a second therapy session without having another nightmare. Bonnie was elated. “See, I knew he could help,” she said in all seriousness. “You just needed someone to talk to who knows…things.”

I nodded, watching her in the mirror as she stood in the doorway to my bedroom, while I checked my make-up. Today was my third, and last, appointment with the therapist. Last because I had no intention of going back again after this session. We’d spent the last one with my telling him all about my childhood and my travels across the country until I’d ended up here. I let him think I was a good Christian girl who believed that I shouldn’t sleep with a man until we were married. My leaving home was because I wanted to see a bit of the world before going back to marry the man my parents approved of. He bought that hook, line and sinker.

I wasn’t sure what he planned on for today but whatever it was, I was certain I could come up with interesting answers that would make him feel like he was on his way to curing me of my nightmares once and for all.

Deeming myself ready to face him I slipped on my coat, picked up my purse, and headed out, telling Bonnie I’d see her in a couple of hours. We’d planned on going out to supper together, a break from cooking at the apartment that we both decided we needed.

I arrived at the therapist’s to find him there alone. He said his secretary hadn’t been feeling well so he’d sent her home as I was his last appointment. When he put his hand at the small of my back a bit too casually to steer me into his office, I resisted pulling away despite how creepy it felt. It would be the last time he did that.

“Now just lie down and get comfortable,” he said as he picked up his pad and pen from the desk.

Something in his voice put me even more on edge but I did as he’d asked. He took his usual place in the chair behind me and began with his questions. I immediately felt the creep factor get stronger as he started to pry into my thoughts about what my first sexual experience with my future husband should be like. I wasn’t about to feed into his fantasies so I came right out and told him that was really none of his business.

He kept pushing for an answer anyway and I heard him shift in his chair. When he leaned forward to lightly stroke my arm, while saying that I should talk about it so that he could relate my thoughts and fears to the nightmares, I saw red. Jumping to my feet I let him have it with both barrels.

I arrived back at the apartment building an hour later still shaking. I stopped in the front lobby to try to calm down. One glance in the mirror beside the elevator told me I looked like hell. How I’d made it here without someone stopping me was anyone’s guess. But then people rarely actually look at who they pass on the street. I ran my hand through my hair to try to get it back in some semblance of order and tightened my coat around me before stepping into the waiting elevator.

I was glad Bonnie was in the kitchen fiddling around when I got to the apartment. I hurried by her with just a wave on my way to my bedroom. I closed and locked the door before taking off my coat, tossing it on the bed. Then I stripped out of my skirt and blouse. Deciding the blouse was beyond hope I threw it in the trash. The skirt ended up in the laundry hamper. Then I took a long, hot shower.