Knowing Is Not Enough (6 page)

Karen appeared in the arched doorway. “Well, I could ask him. I haven’t been out in a long time.” She thought about it. “Okay, I’m in!”

“All right, I’m holding you to it, so call Keith, but don’t ask him.
Tell
him you’re hanging with the girls.” I laughed. “Asking might be a guaranteed no.”

She grinned. “Okay, let me get myself back out there before Mr. Johnson comes in. Where are you planning on going?”

“The Boulevard. That used to be our spot, I’m anxious to see if anybody still hangs out there.”

“Oh, okay, well The Boulevard it is. I’ll make a quick call to Keith.” She went back to the front desk.

I punched in the numbers to Tobey’s mobile phone, but she didn’t pick up. I left a message. “Hey, Tobey, it’s me. I know it’s been a little while. Just wanted to touch base and see if you’re free this Friday, so call me back, okay? Bye.”

Just as I hung up the phone, Karen walked in. She had spoken with Keith. “I’m good for Friday,” she reported,
“and your five o’clock is here.”

I’m happy
this is starting to feel like old times. I put a few things away before heading into the lobby.

“Hello, Mr. Johnson, would you like to come in now?”

“Thank you, Dr. Nichols.” He followed me past Karen’s desk, down the short hallway into my office.

I directed Mr. Johnson toward the couch. “Please have a seat. How has your week been?”

Seated, Mr. Johnson wrung his hands shifting in his seat. “I’m still having a hard time sleeping. I’ve been talking with my attorney about the case.”

“When is the case going to trial?”

“Soon, I think. After the arraignment, things were supposed to go pretty quickly. The trial date is set. My attorney said it’s pretty much an open-and-shut case from the prosecution’s perspective. I’m just working with my attorney to sue the company the guy worked for. I may sue him, too, I don’t know yet.”

I nodded. “So beyond the obvious, is there any other reason why you are having difficulty sleeping?”

“I’m having a hard time shutting my brain down at night. I keep having these dreams about Michelle being hit. I can’t get it out of my head.”

That’s worth exploring, I thought. “Can you remember anything specific about the dream?”

“Yeah, I can, but it’s just bits and pieces. Glimpses—snapshots, maybe—of what I imagine happened at the time of her death. Dr. Nichols, it’s been almost a year, and I can’t seem to take a step forward.”

I nodded again. “There are five steps in the grief process and depression is normal. There isn’t a timeline of
when you will start to live with the loss of a loved one. I believe your dreams are a manifestation of your fighting the grieving process.”

He thought about it for a moment. “I know that whenever I feel happy, I feel like it’s taking a step away from Michelle. I don’t think these sessions are working. Suing the company the guy works for, and if he gets time for what he did—that’s what’ll make me feel better. I think only then will I have some closure. I need closure.”

“Let’s be mindful not to confuse closure with revenge or retaliation,” I reminded him. “I know you’re seeking healing. However, I don’t believe the outcome of the trial and suing the company is going to give you that. Coming to the sessions has helped you with the various stages of grief. Ultimately, you have to decide if you want to continue.”

He thought about it. “Maybe if I could just get some sleep I would feel better.”

“Okay,” I said thoughtfully. “Are you eating?”

“Yes. Well, I’m probably overeating at this point. Eating is not a problem.”

I noted his response on my tablet. “When was your last physical?”

“It’s been a while. Why?”

“Well, I’m concerned that your lack of sleep and overeating may cause other health issues—specifically with your immune system. Can you to call your primary physician and schedule a physical. Also, please let him or her—I’m sorry, what’s your doctor’s name?”

“Dr. Smith.”

I wrote down his physician’s name. “Okay, tell Dr. Smith about your difficulty sleeping. I’m not typically in
support of sleeping pills, but in this case I want to see what your doctor recommends.”

He nodded. “I’m tired. I think I’m willing to try just about anything.”

“Well, let’s not go to extremes,” I said. “I think having a candid conversation with your general practitioner will alleviate some of what you’re describing, but we need to continue talking and working through your grief. If I heard you correctly, you believe the therapy sessions aren’t helping. How would you like to proceed after today?”

“I’m tired, Dr. Nichols, and honestly, I do believe the therapy sessions are working. It just doesn’t always feel like I am getting somewhere. Not that I have unrealistic expectations, it’s just that it feels like she died just yesterday when it’s been many yesterday’s ago.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?” I asked.

“Every time I speak to the prosecutor about the case or remember what we used to do together—even go in our closet.”

“Can you describe what you’re feeling during one of those instances?”

“I think so, talking to the prosecutor, that’s the whole thing, her death, the funeral. I feel like I can’t breathe, and my heart is breaking into pieces.”

“Are all of Michelle’s clothes still in your home?”

“Yeah, it’s all still there.”

I continued to write. Michelle’s clothes still being in the home was of concern to me. “What do you mean by its all still there?”

“Her clothes, shoes, jewelry—everything, it’s all still in the house.”

“You mentioned earlier you feel as if you’re not moving forward. Do you think keeping Michelle’s personal belongings in the home may be preventing you from moving forward?”

He said, “It could be—I hadn’t thought about it to be honest with you. The idea of removing her stuff—Dr. Nichols, that’s something I can’t do.”

Calmly, I said, “I’m not suggesting you remove
all
Michelle’s personal belongings from your home. I’m trying to get a better sense of what triggers how you’re feeling.” I read from my notes. “Specifically around what you described as an inability to shut down your brain, sleep, and take a step forward.”

Mr. Johnson looked relieved. “I’m just not ready. I know I may not be handling this the right way, but I’m just not ready.”

“Try not to think in terms of right and wrong. Cleaning out a loved one’s personal belongings can present a great deal of anxiety for the surviving spouse. It’s a personal decision based upon what works best for you.”

“I have thought about, more than once. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay. So, let’s discuss your dreams a little more and what you described as an inability to shut down your brain. Besides the bits and pieces regarding the accident, can you tell me what else you’re thinking about right before you go to bed?”

“Dr. Nichols, can we talk about this next week? I’m beginning to feel sleepy.”

“Sure, we can pick this up next week. See Karen to confirm your next appointment.”

Mr. Johnson rose slowly and left the office. I stared
after him. Maybe suing the shit out of that driver’s company would give him closure. Who the hell knows? At this point it had been a year and he really wasn’t further along.
Well I guess that’s not true
,
I thought he was further along, now he’s stuck in one place. I’d better type these notes up while the session is fresh in my head
.

While reviewing my notes I heard the faint sound of a phone ringing. I was in such a hurry I had to search around my desk until I found it. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is my second time calling you back.”

“Tobey?”

She laughed. “Yeah, who else?”

I smiled. “Okay, now I recognize the voice. It’s been a while but that’s you, all right. What’s up, girl?”

“Nothing’s up with me, what’s up with you? I haven’t talked to you in months.”

I sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. Linda already chewed me out, so hopefully you’ll cut me some slack.”

She didn’t sound upset. “Yeah, I’m good, believe me, I understand. Now, that doesn’t mean I agree with how you handled all this, but I do get it.”

“I know it’s crazy, but I really did shut down. Between Jake and Sanford, I just didn’t know who to trust.”

“Now, don’t get mad, but I think you blew that out of proportion.”

“Oh, really? Why do you say that?”

“I mean, so what, Alex, he didn’t tell you he saw them out. Liz did. Would it really have made that much of a difference? I could have saw them fucking on a corner and I wouldn’t have told you.”

“What? Why?”

“The way you were tripping about Jake, there is no way I would have told you anything other than I saw them. Anyway you wouldn’t have believed us if we did.”

“You seriously can’t believe that, Tobey. If you’d told me I would’ve believed you.”

“Believing us and doing something about it is two different things. But if we’re going to talk about this, then let’s talk, we’ve been through this before . . . haven’t we. You saw it yourself and didn’t do or say anything to him. So, don’t tell me that you’re mad at Sanford because he didn’t tell you. You’re mad at yourself.”

“So . . . who told you?” I asked.

“I figured it out on my own.”

I felt wounded and couldn’t fight back. I’d called Tobey to hang out with me, not to give me a lecture about someone I’m not even married to anymore. I knew I had issues when it came to Jake. Trust and believe, I knew. I felt my blood pressure starting to rise.

Only the truth can affect you this much.

I didn’t have a reason to be mad at Sanford, and she was right. I sort of suspected Jake might have been doing something he shouldn’t. I didn’t need Sanford or anyone else to affirm it for me.

That being said, knowing all this didn’t make me any less upset. “Tobey, are you driving? I can hear the wind in the background.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I think you need to focus on driving, not arguing about old news with me.”

“I’m not arguing. I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m tired. It’s been a long day already. I want you to come and hang out with us on Friday, but
honestly, Tobey, I’m moving on, so I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Well, okay, count me in.” I could almost detect a halfhearted smile. “I promise to behave.”

“Okay, I really want you to come, but I just can’t handle any more than I am dealing with right now, so I’m going to hold you to that. I know I’m not moving as fast as you guys would like, but this is going to have to be good enough for now.”

“I got you.”

“So, okay, girl, Friday night at The Boulevard around five or six. I want to get there for happy hour.”

“Okay, cool. See you then.” She hung up.

Boy, what an exhausting conversation. She really wore me out.

Right on cue, in walked Karen. “Are you okay?” I imagined she’d heard the entire conversation.

“Yes, don’t worry. I’m okay, but I’ve had enough for one day. Let’s shut it down.”

The gradual disintegration of my marriage stretched out over years.

My focal point was Jake and our marriage, not myself. There wasn’t time or room for me, and any physical trace of the person I’d been before I met and married Jake had all but evaporated. Consequently, ending the relationship ignited the initial catalyst for my goal of rejuvenation. I felt good about my circumstances and myself. I liked the uncertainty of not knowing what could or would come next, which proved to be considerably more invigorating than predictability.

I’d forgotten how much preparation went into going out. Seems like we’d made these plans weeks ago, but Friday night arrived on time and despite all my efforts to the contrary, I still didn’t have clue what to wear. My intention to buy something new hadn’t panned out. Life, in spite of me not having much of one slowed me down this week. I’d have to figure something out from what I had in my closet, because I’d officially run out of time.
We’d all agreed to meet at The Boulevard around five or six, and it was already four o’clock. I felt like this might possibly be my rebirth onto the singles scene.

I wanted to look special–well, that’s not true I wanted to look good. But, admittedly, if there is such a thing as natural sexiness, I didn’t have that gene. But, in the right dress, I could get there. Hopefully, where I couldn’t manage extra time, I could ensnare a little luck. There had to be something to help me amp up my sex appeal lying in wait in the back of my closet.

I’d coordinated this little outing because I missed my friends, but I had to admit–I missed male companionship more. I hadn’t engaged in anything sexual in a couple of years, and sex made it pretty high up on my list of things to do by the end of the year. So the outfit I choose to wear had to accomplish a couple of things–not to look like I was trying too hard to meet a man (even though decidedly I was), and not to look like the lone slut amongst a group of schoolteachers.

A quick search through my closet produced one out-of-date pantsuit and a couple of matronly dresses. Cute, but too conservative. Not quite hitting the sexy feeling I’m after. I laid them both out on my bed, looked each one over front and back, but couldn’t decide. One of the dresses could work.