I hoped it would be the last.
As I approached the small but charming blue home set back from town square in a little cul-de-sac, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a terrible mistake.
It probably was.
But it was the only mistake I knew how to make at the moment. I hummed Lizzo on the sidewalk, trying to pump myself up. It worked. Sort of.
The door opened before I reached it, and Doug glowered from the doorway. It was just after lunchtime on a Sunday afternoon, before the time I suspected old men took naps but after the time that I would interrupt food. I was assuming Doug’s life was regimented, of course, and given he was wearing the same slacks from our first session—with a pressed polo in favor of the button up—my assumption appeared accurate.
“I’m not coming back, and it’s damn inappropriate you’re on my doorstep.”
“It sure is.” I held up my hands in surrender. “I’ve never done it before, Doug. But I had something important to tell you, and I kind of hoped I could talk you into hearing me out.”
Doug crossed his arms, a physical gesture that reflectedhis well-guarded shield. He dipped his eyebrows low. Whatever I said, he was going to be reading my every emotion. I swallowed, making sure my throat was clear.
“I have a story I’d love to tell you, Doug. Do you mind listening to it? I promise it won’t take up much more of your afternoon.” I took a cautious step forward. “After you hear it, I’ll leave. You don't have to promise to come back. But I’ll hold your space for another two weeks. Just in case.”
Football blared in the background noise from his open door. Birds chirped from the trees surrounding his house. A car revved its engine. Doug stared at me, unmoving.
“You know, Doug, I recently discovered that as a word witch I have the power to compel people to do things they may not want to.” I paused a beat. “Even myself, as it turns out. I’ve had thisabilitymy entire life and didn’t know it. I even used it without meaning to.”
I paused to let him read me, holding his gaze. His arms dropped slowly to his side. “Say what you gotta from there.”
Okay. It was progress.
“It’s pretty scary, actually. This new power that isn’t new at all. I’m tempted to ignore it. After all, learning to use it properly sounds super hard. Even though I’ve been in a lot of pain lately—and I mean a lot of pain, Doug—the pain I know now is still more comfortable than the pain of going through to the other side. Know what I mean?”
He might have nodded. It was such a slight dip of his chin it could have been anything. But he wasn’t telling me to shut up or slamming the door in my face, so I would take it.
“Or I could harness it, and do the right thing with it. Help people relax a bit during sessions. That way, they can allow themselves to see past their anxiety or anger to the core of their pain.”
I took another step forward.
“That’s a pretty powerful tool in therapy, you know? I can get past the armor people place around their thoughts and feelings, the barrier that trauma forces us to create, so they can clear it. And live the life they are meant to live.”
Another step. Doug stiffened, but aside from the twitch of his lips, he didn’t move.
“But I would never, ever, ever force people to do something theydidn’t want to do. I wouldn’t rush them to heal or put them under hypnosis or anything like that. Not on purpose, Doug.”
Crickets. Okay, Simone, just keep going.
“Did you hear the rumors about my husband? Did you know I’d caught him cheating a week before Agatha passed?”
He still wasn’t speaking, but his eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch.
“You didn’t. That’s a relief, I’ll be honest with you. Because only a few people from this town could know that, and I don’t want to believe they are the gossip spreading type. Probably the only thing people knew until the other day was that Agatha left her practice to an outsider. Or someone that used to be a local, because I was born and raised here after all, but chose to leave and not come back like a damn fool.”
Doug snorted in laughter, and I breathed relief when his shoulders sagged. He was hearing me and reading my point.
“Ah, that was the rumor spread about me. The truth is more complicated than that. It usually is, right? For example, your truth is that you promised your wife you’d go to therapy after she died.”
I paused again. Light tears shimmered in his eyes.
“That’s only part of the truth though, right? The full truth is that every week you show up to therapy for someone to talk to. And it reminds you of the immense pain you must have felt when she died. Pain you can’t let go of, because letting go of it would mean letting go of your wife’s memory.”
I’d made it to the door and kept my voice low in case someone nearby had super hearing. Tears streamed freely down Doug’s lined face.
“When you came to your first session, I was trying so hard to be a good textbook therapist that I forgot to be a good personal therapist. I know that sounds weird, but the truth is that I’m at my best when I channel my emotions. I’ve never been good at keeping people at a distance, even my patients. I like to let them know they aren’t alone in their struggles. And that their therapist is imperfect, too.”
