Chapter Twenty-Three
Devon couldn't quitebe sure if it was the right choice to attend his first therapy appointment on the same day Hailey went back to school. On one hand, he knew he needed extra help on that day more than ever. On the other hand, he’d been anxious enough without adding to his stress.
He couldn't help the nervous energy causing him to tap his fingers repeatedly on his knees. He watched the clock on the wall tick by in agonizing slowness while he waited for them to call his name. When it was his turn, he calmly walked down the hall and into the room in which he was expected to bare his soul. There were a few plaid couches arranged around a large wooden desk, and a man with shocking white hair stood in front of it.
“Hello, Mr. McMillan, I’m Dr. Brennan.”
“You can call me Devon,” he responded as they shook hands.
Dr. Brennan was taller than Devon, broad in the chest, and wore a corduroy jacket with suede patches covering the elbows. Immediately, he reminded Devon of his father, though they looked nothing alike. “Sounds good, Devon. Have a seat wherever you’re comfortable.”
He chose the corner of the sofa and tried not to fidget.
“So, if it’s okay with you,” Dr. Brennan said as he brought his leather desk chair closer to the sofa. “I’d like to start with the reason you’re here.”
Devon clasped his hands together and processed his thoughts before he spoke. “I came to realize I’ve held in my grief over my wife’s death. She passed away five years ago, and I never quite got through it as well as I thought I did.” He swallowed the dry lump in his throat. “And recently, a close friend of mine injured my daughter Hailey and hid her in a well because he thought he’d killed her.”
“I imagine you had varying emotions regarding that incident.”
Devon laughed bitterly. “You could say that. Betrayal, failure, guilt. Why couldn't I see what kind of monster he was, you know?”
“I understand.”
“And the way he helped search for her, pretended to console me when he knew where she was, well, that’s made it hard for me to trust anybody.”
The doctor nodded. “Once trust is broken, it’s hard to reclaim it. It causes a chain reaction in the way you view other people in your life.”
“Suddenly, I didn't trust my parents or my brother.” Devon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I didn't trust myself.”
“And what actions did you take when you felt that way?”
“I thought I would run.”
“I’m sorry, run?” Dr. Brennan frowned as he wrote on his notepad.
“Leave town. I wanted to leave without my daughter so I couldn't hurt her anymore.”
“The first thing I hear is that you’re using past tense. You don't feel like running anymore?”
Devon shook his head. “Not since I confided in a friend and she told me it was cowardly to run.”
“I see.”
“I was drinking too much, wallowing too much, I guess. She set me straight. I realized I didn't want to leave anyone, least of all my own daughter.”
The doctor scribbled again. “Recognizing there are people in your life who need you is good. What else has happened?”
“Hailey went back to school today. It was hard to let her out of my sight and be in the care of others.”
“How are you dealing with that?”
Devon chuckled. “I decided today was a good day to be here.”
“You know she’s in a safe place. She’s well taken care of, right?” At Devon’s nod, he continued. “No doubt it feels monumental.”
“It does.”
