“Excuse me, but… Were you sleeping? I can swing by later if you prefer.”
“What time is it?”
She looks at her watch and says:
“Eleven o’clock.”Whoa! I really slept this much?
“Please, take a seat. Let me slip into something more appropriate. I’ll be right back.” I go to the bedroom dragging my feet from the laziness and sleep. I grab the loosest outfit I can find and put it on. Once I’m back in the kitchen, Dr. Gonzales is sitting on a chair with both hands on the table, fingers locked, as if praying or something. She’s wearing a black tailored suit with a pencil skirt; her hair is perfectly combed and aligned to her face like a helmet. One may even think it’s a wig. I like that. She smiles when I finally sit across from her.
“This is the part where you offer me something to drink,” she points out. She makes me feel embarrassed, I’m so rude.
“Sorry. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water is fine.” I reach into the cabinet for a glass and a grab small bottle of water from the fridge.
“Here you go.”
“Forgetting about common manners is completely normal for someone who went through a traumatic experience like yourself. Everything will come back to you eventually, you just have to be patient. We will work on that patience. Okay?” I nod; I’m already annoyed by her tone of voice— and don’t get me started on her manners. “Your name is Sarah Fitcher. Right?” She speaks to me while looking down her satchel and browsing through some documents.
“This is going to suck,”my bright friend yells.
“Okay, I’m sure they already told you about me and what I do. I’ve been working in this field for more than twenty years. I have my own practice, but the government takes most, if not all my time with cases like yours. I specialize in traumatic events and their aftermath. We’re not going to rush these sessions because it will not be good for either of us. Little by little, we will rebuild and repair. I know you may think that your former self is gone, but I can assure you that’s not the case— you merely put a barrier up and shielded yourself from the outside world. You just need to know that you’re not alone; every patient I have treated before had the same thoughts. I will make sure you can return to society, don’t worry.”
Wait, what?Will she ever ask me if that’s what I want?
“So, shall we? Where would you like to start?”
I have no clue, no answer. Three seconds go by and I’m already too anxious to think.
“Go ahead, tell her about you not wanting to go back to this shitty society,”Life throws in.
I’m not going to say that to her, Life.
Other three seconds pass, Dr. Gonzales is still staring and smiling at me like a creepy circus clown.
“Hey! Wake up, you idiot! Tell her that you don’t want to be a part of the shit show. Otherwise, she will brainwash you and that will fuck me up, too.”Life is not handling her shit right now.
“Do you know what happened to me?” I decide to open with that.
“Is that the best your brain can come up within six seconds? Oh boy, Bruno really did a number on you, huh?”Aaaand back to the usual Life.
“Of course, the whole world knows it. Only a few of us know who you really are. The hostage rescue from the ETA was a complete success and the world rejoiced. I’m aware you were starved and mentally and physically tortured.” She knows some things, others are detailed on a piece of paper she’s holding and reading back to me. Why is she talking about this, listing all the awful things I had to endure like it’s a grocery list? She’s being cold and insensitive about it. I just want to go back to bed.
“Yes, that’s right…” She can tell I’m shutting in, so she leans forward and places her elbows on the table.
“Sarah, when the human mind goes through something this negative and unexpected, it will always be wounded. But those wounds are invisible to the human eye and can only be perceived by trained counselors like myself. Denying this due to lack of physical pain would be to live the rest of your life with an open wound and, trust me on this one, you don’t want that. We are going to talk about those wounds here… and the pain that comes with them…”
“Can you believe this bitch? Who the fuck does she think she is? Ask her if she was tortured or mentally fornicated like we were!”Life is not a happy camper right now.
“Mhm…” I’m not making this easy for her. I know where this is going. I do feel physical pain, it’s like having a black hole in the middle of my chest, sucking and crushing everything into oblivion, but there’s no way I’m telling her.
“Well, my intentions here are noble. I really want to help you recover by releasing all that sentiment you’re repressing. To that end, I need to get you to talk about it, openly and without fear. Do you understand? It must be a natural response from you, or it won’t work. You need to acknowledge what is going on in your mind. I like to say that the mind has a ‘narrator’ who loves to alter the story, which is why my advice to you is to stick with the facts, just the facts. We don’t need a perspective from anybody else. What happened, happened, and there’s nothing we can do to change that.”
“Well, fuck. She’s totally crazy. Don’t bother trying to talk to her, get her out of here. FAST.”Life’s not wrong this time.
“I really don’t want to do this.” I cross my arms to show her I really mean it. “I don’t want to be rude, I just don’t think I’m ready.”
“Completely understandable!” She says while straightening her back again. That’s a sign of retreat and to me, she admitted defeat. “Don’t you worry about it. Now tell me, Sarah. What would you like to do?”
