Therapy (31 page)

“I am my problem, but I am also my solution.”

—Unknown

STANDING OUTSIDE THE clinic, I take in a deep breath. The larger-than-life sign out front that reads
Mental Health Clinic
makes me feel like I should try to disguise myself as I go in. It just screams
crazy person walking
.

I go in, sign-in, and wait. The waiting is always awful in places like this. Sitting here, I’m scanning the room, looking at the others that are waiting, and judging them. They’re judging me too. It’s an unspoken truth.

Fifteen minutes inch by before my name is called. “Ms. Alexander, you may come on back,” the receptionist says.

I enter a small office and as I look around I quickly realize that this therapist and Dr. Ward are polar opposites. Bookshelves full of unorganized books line the wall space and everywhere I look there’s clutter. Nothing hangs on the walls except a clock and a quote decal positioned above the door. It reads
Talk to yourself like someone you love
. I can barely see a framed diploma leaned up against the wall on her desk with all the files stacked in front of it. I sit down on the blue-checkered love seat and take a cleansing breath. The door opens and in walks a short, middle-aged lady with shaggy, red hair, and a pencil pushed behind one ear. She’s holding a Coke in one hand and a file in her other hand. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. My eyes make it to her feet to find that she’s also wearing hot pink chucks. Interesting. Not what I expected in the least.

“Hi there! You must be Jessica. I’m Janice, your new therapist,” she says in a friendly, upbeat tone. She extends her hand and I reach out to shake it before she takes a seat at her desk. Pulling a pair of eyeglasses out of a drawer, she puts them on and opens the file to give it a quick once-over.

“I’ve reviewed your file and records from the previous clinic as well as your hospital visit.” She closes the file, placing it on her desk. She removes the glasses and leans back in her chair casually crossing her legs. “Thing is that I’ve read it and there’s no need to go back over any of that information. I’m not going to give you any diagnostic questionnaires or sit here and ask you a bunch of textbook shrink questions. You have borderline personality disorder. That’s pretty clear from all of the information you gave Dr. Ward. So, we know what the problem is. I’m not interested in the problem. I’m interested in a solution. So I’ll ask you one very important question. How you answer will determine if you and I are right for one another in the sense of you getting treatment here.”

She’s very direct, but she’s also not at all threatening. Her body language and tone of voice are welcoming, inviting almost. She has kind eyes and, for some reason, I don’t feel as tense as I did before.

“Okay,” I respond.

“Alright then. Don’t answer quickly. Think hard about my question, and then answer. We can sit here as long as we need to. What I need to know from you is this—do you want to get better? Not the ‘Yeah, I want to get better because I have to or because someone says I need to.’ I want to know if
you
, Jessica Alexander, want to get better for yourself, by yourself, because it’s what you and only you want in order to have a happier and healthier life. That if the judge said you could stop coming tomorrow you would still choose to be here. It has to be your choice, your decision and no one else’s. Just know that everything in our lives is a reflection of a choice we’ve made. If we want different results, we must make different choices.”

Choices. We all have them, just like Kingsley said.

I try to absorb everything she said. I stare into my lap and evaluate my thoughts one by one. A popping sound startles me when she opens her Coke. I readjust myself on the love seat and consider. I know that I can’t keep living like I have been. I know that I want to be happy. I’m just scared, really scared that I might not be able to do it. I pinch the bridge of my nose, inhale then exhale. I look at her, forming my answer mentally before speaking.

“I do want to get better. I want to for me and that’s the truth. The thing is, I’m terrified that I won’t be able to succeed with this DBT stuff. It seems so daunting and I’ve never really completed anything in my life successfully. I think a better question is ‘can I get better?’”

A smile spreads across her face, which confuses me. I assumed my answer wasn’t good enough, but she looks pleased.

“Jessica, you were given this life because you’re strong enough to live it. I have no doubt about that. Self-doubt can cripple a person faster than fear ever will. Self-doubt can kill dreams and rob you from your future.” I listen nervously and try to breathe evenly. “One of the most crucial things that I’ll want to hammer into your mind is that the way you talk to yourself is a key factor in your success. Our brains are big muscles. The more you work it the stronger it gets. At first it will be hard. You will fall down, you will make mistakes, and you will struggle. That’s all okay.” She smiles and I feel myself wanting to trust her. “What matters most is that you don’t give up. You keep coming here and we keep fighting, together. I’ll challenge you, push you, and basically put you in front of a mirror forcing you to face the deepest and darkest places within yourself. You won’t like me some days and that’s fine. I expect it. Tough love is my forte. Just know that everything I do is always in your best interest. You can do this. It’s all in how badly you want it.”

I don’t know how to respond. She seems so confident about something that I have hardly any confidence in at all. I reach down deep within myself, calling on every ounce of bravery that I’ve ever had, and choose.

“Okay, I want to do it.”

The words reverberate off the walls of my mind and I resolve to do this, no matter how hard or scary it may be. I want happiness and I want to love the person I am.

“Okay,” she smiles at me, “I’m happy to hear that. We will have one individual session and one group session with my DBT group per week. You can attend your other group one last time this week if you’d like. Starting next week you’ll have all of your therapy sessions here. I’ll send the necessary paperwork to the judge.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome, dear. Be sure to pat yourself on the back too. Making the decision to take this step is all on you. It’s your first victory and there are many more to come.”

I look at her and smile. For the first time in my life, I think I feel a small sense of pride for the choice I’ve just made.

“Sometimes life will throw everything at you all at once. You can either catch it all or reach for the things that matter most.”

—Kathryn Perez

“SHE HAS A brain tumor and it’s extremely aggressive, Mr. Collins. We are going to perform surgery, but the tumor is located near a sensitive area of the brain, making the procedure very risky. We may only be able to remove a portion of the tumor, but it may help reduce her signs and symptoms. Then we can try radiation treatment for the remaining tumor cells.”

Victoria squeezes my hand and I flinch. I haven’t found the right time to tell her there’s not going to be a wedding. I turn to her now, seeing her eyes glazed over with tears. She’s really close to my mom and this is really hitting her hard. I take in a deep breath before I say anything.

“When will you operate on her, Doctor?”

“Today, Mr. Collins. Your mom has already signed all of the paperwork. She has requested to see you both before we get her prepped for surgery.”

“Okay, we’ll go on back now, if that’s all right.”

“Absolutely. We haven’t moved her to the OR yet. She’s still in her room.”

Mother’s quietly lying in bed, reading a magazine when we enter. The room feels cold, but flowers from all of her friends at the country club brighten every corner. She’s covered up with the eight hundred dollar alpaca fur blanket that Victoria gave to her. She didn’t even bat an eye at paying that much for a blanket for Mom.

“Mrs. Collins, I hope that blanket is keeping you nice and warm in here. This room is kind of chilly,” Victoria says.

“Oh, it’s perfection, my dear. You do have impeccable taste, Victoria.”

Mom smiles and motions for us to come sit down.

“Sit, please, both of you. I wanted to speak with you before they take me in for surgery today. And before you argue with me, Jace Collins, just sit there and listen to your mother. Okay?”

I nod in agreement, but something feels off; and it’s not just the fact that Mom is so sick.

“It’s very possible that there could be complications with this surgery because of where the tumor is located,” she starts. I have to focus on her words with a certain amount of detachment; otherwise I may not get through this. “I have had my attorney go over all of my estate paperwork along with my will. You know, dear, that I want nothing but for you to be happy and to have a fruitful life with a good wife by your side. Victoria has proven to be a loyal woman and I adore her. She loves you very much and she has your best interests at heart, as do I. Per the guidelines of my will, you’ll be given everything in my estate upon the completion of your first year of marriage to Victoria. At that time, you’ll be the full beneficiary of the estate,” she says, deadpan.

Something inside of me begins to weaken. I’m looking at my mother, the woman that raised me, the woman that I have forgiven everything because a son loves his mother unconditionally. My struggle to stop myself from confronting her about the abortion rages just beneath the surface of my thin resolve. Her statement just now shouldn’t shock me. More than anything it hurts, because no matter how hard I try to dismiss my mother’s selfish, controlling ways, she never fails to push it right in my face. I look at Victoria and she’s smiling. This angers me to no avail and the last of my resolve breaks away.

“Do you actually find this amusing, Vic? My mother gives me an ultimatum based on my love life and you smile?” I ask incredulously.

“Jace Collins, do not disrespect your fiancé. She’s simply supporting her mother-in-law. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Mother, please do not speak about bad things or question me. I’m truly sorry that you’re ill, and I’ll pray every second while you’re in surgery for a positive outcome. But you need to understand that your health will
not
be a determining factor in my personal life. It just won’t. If you think your estate should go to me based on my personal decisions in my love life rather than the fact that I’m your son, then I don’t want it.”

I pause. What I really want to do is yell at her, but I can’t bring myself to do that while she’s sick in a hospital.

“I don’t need your money, Mother, and I refuse to allow you to force anything upon me. I love you and want you well, but I have to draw the line here. I’m not sorry about taking a stand on this.” Standing up to her is hard; I hate conflict where she’s concerned, but enough is enough. Her face hardens and I prepare for the worst.

“Do you not see that I’m trying to do what’s best for the future of this family? Why is this a problem, Jace? You’re engaged to a wonderful woman and you’re to be married soon. Why would you foresee my terms not working in your favor? Is this about that harlot from your senior year?” she hisses.

That’s it, no more of this.

“Mother, Victoria, please excuse me. I’ll be here when you come out of surgery, but I have to go right now. If I stay I’ll regret my next words.”

I push out of the chair and glare at Victoria, because I know she told Mom about Jessica and it pisses me the hell off. It wouldn’t surprise me if Victoria were in on this estate shit either. I make my way down the hallway and out to the parking lot. I’m almost to my car when my phone buzzes. It’s Victoria.

End.

I have no desire to talk to her right now, so I get in the car and just drive.

Of course this is where I’d end up. It still looks exactly the same as it always did. The water tower’s a little rustier, but everything else is the same. I get out of the car and walk across the dusty gravel to the ladder. As I climb up, I do my best to shut everything out and focus on just putting one hand in front of the other, one foot in front of the other. I reach the platform and scan the area where Jess once wrote. Faded and barely there, I see it:
J & J always together, even if far away.
The day I left for college, she scratched that into the tower and put a big heart around it. I run my fingers across it and go back to that day. She was happy, we were happy. I miss her; I miss my hopes for what we could’ve been. Why do they say that time heals or that missing someone gets easier with time? Time is just a Band-Aid. It covers up the wound but the wound has to heal on its own.

I find myself daydreaming about her now; she haunts my dreams when I sleep too. There are moments when I miss her so much that I wish I could just pluck the memories from my dreams and relive them all over again. Finding and seeing her again immediately brought back all those long forgotten—or ignored—feelings along with the pain I’d felt when she left me. Should love hurt this much? Who knows? Maybe we are broken, maybe we don’t belong together, and maybe we never did.

Thinking over all of it now, I try to pinpoint what drew me to Jessica Alexander in the first place. Was it that I saw Genevieve in her? Part of me recognizes that I’ve always wanted to save her from herself, from other people, from a fate like Genevieve’s. But nothing I’ve done for Jess has brought my little sister back or lessened my guilt, and it never will. And, if I’m being honest, nothing I’ve done has helped the girl who took my heart away with her six years ago. Not one damn bit. Sometimes I think I actually made her life worse. But I fell in love with her. And ain’t that just a bitch for me.

How the hell did I get here?

How did I get to a place in my life where every choice I have to choose from and every decision I make feels wrong? Minutes or hours go by, I don’t know, and no matter how many ways I try to map out my future, I can’t see Victoria in it anymore. Whether I’m with Jess or not, I know I don’t love Victoria. And Jessica?

Jessica will always be my biggest “what if”.

My phone buzzes again and I answer it, knowing if I don’t she’ll just keep calling.

“What do you want, Victoria?” I snap.

“Jace, it’s your mom. There was a complication during surgery and I think it’s bad. You need to get back here now.”

“I’m on my way.” I hang up and make my way down to my car as fast as I can. I put my hazard lights on as I speed to the hospital. “Don’t die, don’t die, dammit,” I whisper. Tears burn my eyes and I go over and over the disagreement we had before I left. She’s my mom, no matter how angry she makes me.

Just, God, please don’t let her die.

I whip into the hospital parking lot, get out of my car in a flash, and run inside to find Victoria.

“Jace, over here,” Victoria shouts.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. A bunch of doctors and nurses rushed in, but they won’t tell me anything.”

I go to the nurses’ station to find out.

“Excuse me, can you please tell me what the status of Ariana Collins is? She’s my mother.”

The nurse never looks up at me. She just continues on with her pile of paperwork and replies, “Sir, the doctor will come out and inform you as soon as he can. Please be patient.”

My manners and rather calm demeanor just flew out the fucking window. “I want to know right now what’s going on with my mom. I demand that you find someone who knows or someone who can find out! Do you hear me?”

She looks up at me with raised brows.

“Sir, you need to calm down. What’s your mother’s name again?”

“Ariana Collins.”

“Give me one minute, but if you get out of control in here at any point you’ll be removed by security. Please, try to stay calm.”

She walks off down the hallway and I massage my temples, exhaling hard. I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch at the touch. I turn to look at Victoria, only to see someone that I’ve lost any and all affection for.

“Jace, darling, I’m sorry. I’m sure she’s going to be okay. We just have to hold on to that hope.” She knows I’m mad at her, and lately, I have no idea if her words or intentions are sincere at all.

“Vic, just leave me alone, okay? Thank you for being here for Mother, but I just can’t deal with how I’m feeling toward you right now.”

Her eyebrows form a deep crease and I can see her jaws tighten.

“What’s your problem? You’ve been intolerable lately. You’ve disrespected me, embarrassed me, and you’ve hurt me. How is any of that acceptable? I’m going to be your wife soon. That’s no way to treat the woman you love.”