Operation: Endurance (When the Mission Ends) (29 page)

An older lady sat at a reception desk and she flashed a kind smile to Julie as she met her eyes. “Are you Julie Hyatt?”

Julie nodded, trying to swallow against the sudden dryness of her mouth.

“Good, we’ve been expecting you. Dr. Eckert will be available in just a moment. In the meantime, can I get you something to drink? We have various colas, coffee, tea, and water.”

Damn, no alcohol. She really could have used a shot or two of some liquid courage right about now, but she guessed that would be bad form for a therapist’s office to offer alcoholic beverages, even if it would make this whole thing easier.

Instead, she just shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, though.” She sat down in one of the plush armchairs and pulled her e-reader out of her purse, although thinking she could concentrate on a book right now was ludicrous. Her fingers itched for a pen and paper so she could make a list. She balled her hands into fists to resist the temptation. Control, she could do this.

Sweat rolled down her back as she looked around the reception area again. She was the only one here, so why did she feel like she had a great big neon sign over her head which said, ‘Crazy Lady Sitting Here’ with an arrow pointed down at her?

When finally the door to the doctor’s office opened, she jumped in surprise. A friendly-looking, middle-aged man stood there in a nicely cut suit. He had glasses, stood about six foot tall, and was balding. She’d estimate his age to be around fifty-five. He smiled as he strode to her and reached out his hand. “Ms. Hyatt?”

She nodded and shook his hand.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Eckert. Why don’t you come on in? Did Valerie offer you something to drink?”

“Yes, but I’m fine right now.” They entered his office. 

“Okay. Good, then let’s get started.” He sat down behind his desk and pulled out a notepad.

Julie glanced around the office. Like the reception area, it had a peaceful feel, but here the effect was created with soft green wall color and a plethora of live plants throughout the room. There were two upholstered arm chairs and a couch for her to choose from. She picked one of the chairs and was surprised by how extremely comfortable it was when she sat down. She glanced back at it and said, “This would be a perfect reading chair.”

Dr. Eckert smiled and nodded. “It is. I use it often for reading novels when I don’t have any patients in the office, but don’t tell my secretary. She thinks I’m working on my paperwork during those hours.” He covered his mouth, but she could still see his lips twitching with amusement.

Suddenly Julie felt more at ease.

“Your sister told me a little bit about your background, but I’d like to hear it from you. What do you see as your main issue? Why are you here to see me today?”

Julie took a deep breath and then began. “Rachel tells me I have OCD.”

“Do you disagree with that?”

“No.” Julie shook her head. “I make lists. I have to make lists.”

“What happens if you don’t make your lists?”

“Then I lose control of the situation and I can’t allow that to happen. My lists help me keep control.”

He hummed while watching her. “I see. Do you know how long you’ve done this?”

Her stomach seized up and she balled her fists so that her fingernails pressed into her palms. “It started when I was eleven. I was always really organized as a kid, but the overwhelming need to make the lists began then.”

“Was there a significant event that happened in your life then to start this?”

“Yes,” Julie swallowed against the lump in her throat, “I was attacked.”

“Okay, your sister mentioned that. She was there, too, right?”

“Yes, it was her boyfriend who attacked me.”

“So, why do you think you started making lists then?”

“I was young and trying to deal with this awful assault while also trying to hide it from my parents. I was only able to do all that with my lists to keep track of all the lies and details.”

“Did it work? Did they ever find out about the attack?”

“Not that I know of. We’ve always managed to keep it hidden.”

He wrote for a moment in his notebook. “Does that bother you?”

Julie thought for a moment. She’d never really considered the lie to her parents. In her life, it just was a fact that this awful thing happened and they couldn’t know about it. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think it does. That lie has been a part of my life for so long; I can’t imagine telling them about it now. And what would that do besides make them feel guilty for not realizing it happened at the time? No, I don’t think it does bother me.” She watched him write for a moment. “Shouldn’t it bother me though? Lying is bad.”

“Julie, I’m not here to judge you. You did what you had to do to survive then. You were very young and dealing with an incredibly traumatic event. From what little I know so far, I would say you’ve adjusted remarkably and developed your own methods for coping. What we’re trying to do here is find even healthier methods for you to learn to cope, now that you’re older and have stronger mental facilities.”

She nodded. “Okay, that sounds good.” She took another deep breath.

“Your sister also mentioned that she had worked with you recently to overcome your
OCD and you weren’t happy with the results. Would you like to talk about that?”

“Not really.” She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. She glanced around his office, avoiding his gaze. “You have a lot of plants. I’ve taken up gardening recently. What kinds are they?”

Silence. She tucked the fingers of her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, but finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and looked up at him. He had a kind, soft smile on his face and a very patient look in his eyes. He was just going to sit there and wait for her to answer, wasn’t he?

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about your plants, huh?”

“Not during your session, no, but if you’d like to talk about them afterwards, I’d be happy to share my plant knowledge with you. I just don’t think giving you a list of plant names right now would best serve your needs.” Busted. He gave her another soft smile. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened before.”

“Rachel called it behavior modification. I worked to become a different person, a stronger version of me. She said that by behaving completely different from my norm that it could change my habits. I wasn’t allowed to make lists.”

“Did it work for you?”

She gave a sharp nod of her head and swallowed. “It did, for a while.”

“Then what happened?” he gently prodded.

“I lost control,” she whispered. That ever-present panic swamped her. She wanted a pen and paper in her hand.

“What exactly did you lose control of?”

“Everything in my life.”

“What exactly was everything?”

She swallowed against the tears welling in her eyes. “I met a guy.” Her voice broke and the tears spilled over her cheeks.

“Most people think that’s a good thing. Why don’t you?”

“He was a soldier, an Air Force pilot, who had to deploy. I didn’t know it when he left, but I was pregnant. I was so happy at first, but we’d kept our relationship a secret so I couldn’t tell anyone, but then the baby died and his plane crashed. I lost everything.”

He handed her a box of tissues. “I’m sorry for your loss, Julie, but I need you to answer a few more questions for me.”

“You said the baby died. Was it a miscarriage?”

“Yes, it was an ectopic pregnancy with a rupture. They also had to remove a fallopian tube and I’m sterile now.”

He watched her for a moment. “You’re in the medical field and I know you know this, but it bears repeating. If you had been making your lists during that time, would your baby have lived?”

“No.”

“Could your lists have prevented your boyfriend’s plane crash?”

“No.” She stared down at her lap.

“Your lists didn’t help you control your life. They gave you a false sense of control, Julie, but you can’t control life this way. There are lots of things you can change to affect an outcome in your life, but making a list isn’t one of them. Lists are for making sure that you don’t forget eggs at the grocery store. They won’t help you maintain control of the risks that life entails. If that were the case, we’d all be maniacally making lists all the time.” He paused, letting that soak in for a moment.

She’d known all this, but hearing it spelled out, it made more sense. She’d blamed Rachel’s therapeutic advice for ruining her life, but the overall outcome wouldn’t have changed if she’d still been the old Julie. What would have changed is she never would have found love with Chris in the first place. She wouldn’t have been living.

She hid behind her lists. They kept her from living and feeling the full depth of her emotions. She used them as a barrier against the things in life she couldn’t control by wrapping them around her heart. That wasn’t living. That was hiding. She was stronger than that.

She looked up at Dr. Eckert.

“Does that make sense to you?” he asked.

She nodded. “It does. Why haven’t I ever seen it like that before?”

“When you were eleven, you weren’t capable. The lists helped you cope the only way you could at that point in time. You’re capable of much more now, but this has been your method for almost twenty years. I don’t want to take that away from you all at once, so we’re going to try an experiment for this first week. How many lists do you suppose you make during a day?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, probably twenty to thirty?” Those were the ones she actually wrote down on paper. She created at least another twenty or so in her head every day, too. How much of life had she missed out on because she’d had her face buried in a piece of paper?

“Okay, for this week, you’re allowed to write down three lists a day. That’s it. That’s a hard limit. If you’ve hit your limit for the day and feel an overwhelming need to write down a list, I need you to work through it emotionally. If you’re having an issue with another person, talk through it with them. If it’s something internally happening with you, like stress, you need to sit down and talk yourself through it.”

“Are you suggesting I actually sit down and have a conversation with myself?” She gave him a small smile.

“I know. Usually, I’m trying to fix those kinds of behaviors, but with you I think it will help. I’m simply suggesting you work out your issue aloud. Just make sure you don’t answer back.”

She laughed. An hour ago, she wouldn’t have even thought that was possible within these office walls.

He gave her another gentle smile. “You’re using your lists to keep from connecting emotionally. This week, try to be aware of that. I think you’ll find that by being aware of why you need to make a list, you’ll also find that you can control your need for it. You’re shifting the power of control here so that
you
really will be the one in control. Okay?”

“Okay.” She could do this, right? She took a steadying breath. She needed to do this.

“If you run into any issues, feel free to call the office day or night. If it’s an emergency, my answering service can reach me. Otherwise, I’ll see you in another week.”

“Thank you, Dr. Eckert. I already feel so much better for having talked to you. I’m so glad that Pete gave me your name.”

A strange frown came over his face. “Pete Larson? The police officer?”

Julie nodded. “Yes, he told me the police department used you with a lot of success.”

“It’s good he thinks so highly of me, but I’ve been trying to get hold of him. Have you seen him lately?”

“Not lately, but I’ve been ill,” she said slowly. “As far as I know, everything’s fine with him. I haven’t seen him directly, but I’ve chatted several times this week with the girl he’s dating and I know they’ve been going out. Maybe you could try contacting him through the police department.”

“You’re right. I’ll do that. Thanks, Julie. I’ll see you next week.”

The next morning, Chris woke up excited about his plan for today, but first he had an idea to get the day started right. Julie had begun to rouse, but was still dozing in bed when he rolled over on top of her. He began to trail a line of kisses between her breasts. “Wake up, Butterfly.”

She scrunched up her face and whined, “No, it’s Saturday.”

“Aw, the romance is already gone, isn’t it? You’d rather sleep in than play with me?”

A single eye popped open to scowl at him. “Saturday’s are sacred territory, even with you, looking at me all sexy. Damn,” the second eye opened and she examined him more closely, “you really are sexy in the morning.” She wiggled underneath him and reached down to cup his hardened arousal.

“Oh yeah,” his voice lowered as he surged into her hand, “that’s what I’m talking about. But I have a better idea. Let’s go take a shower. I want you slippery and wet.”

“What makes you think I’m not already?” Her eyes sparkled.

He closed his eyes and moaned. “You are such a tease, but I want to take a shower. We have plans for today.” Scooping her up as he went, he crawled off the bed. She was so tiny; she fit into his arms so perfectly. Carrying her everywhere they went sounded like something he could live with. Nothing about life was as close to Nirvana as it was when she was right here, close to his heart. He smiled internally over his poeticism. She made him feel all romantic and shit. No other girl had ever made him feel this way. He wanted to sweep her off her feet. Every. Single. Day.