Chrissy
Joshua checked his voice mail the following morning and coughed out a frustrated breath. It had been weeks since Chrissy Alensworth had shown up for her therapy appointment or attended a group session. She had sent a text to Joshua the day before her last appointment reading: “Am not able to attend”, a message he found concerning on many levels.
He dared not reach out to her. Her husband’s suspicions of him and of the effect Chrissy’s therapy might have on their marriage made such contact inadvisable and possibly dangerous. He felt sure that her absence was a direct result of pressure—if not outright threats—from her abusive spouse. As much as Chrissy’s situation worried him, Joshua knew there was nothing he could do, and he tried to force his patient’s situation from his mind. He had many other patients, some of whom had gone through the same kind of painful struggles as Chrissy and many of whom had fought their way out of their abusive situations and into a happy, peaceful existence. He had to put his professional energies where they could do the most good. Allowing himself to be consumed by one patient who refused to leave their unsafe environment helped no one, least of all himself. And yet, she was often in his thoughts.
The day’s schedule was packed. Private counseling sessions in the morning were followed by an afternoon trip to the city police station to meet with a defendant in a felony manslaughter case. Joshua was one of two forensic psychologists who would conduct a lengthy evaluation of the defendant’s mental state in order to assess his competency to stand trial. These evaluations were complicated since the subject had no real motivation to deal with him honestly, and Joshua had to call on every resource from his training and his intuition to get to the truth.
He completed the interview then took the elevator to the third floor, headed for the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office. Once there, he pressed the security button to request admittance, and within seconds a buzzer sounded allowing him to enter. He walked to Sheila’s desk and leaned against it grinning. “Is he busy? Can I grab a minute?”
“Go on in, Josh. You know he’ll be happy to see you.”
Joshua reached into his suit jacket pocket for a protein bar which he flipped onto her desk. “Never let it be said that I didn’t come bearing gifts.”
Sheila laughed and waved him down the hall. “Thanks, Josh.”
Colin’s door was open, but Joshua tapped on the doorframe, waiting in the doorway until Colin lifted his head. “You busy?”
“Never too busy for you.” Colin waved him into the room. “C’mon in, bud.” He watched while Joshua sat down, eyeing him with a worried frown. “You look exhausted. How’d the evaluation go?”
Eyebrows arched in weary frustration, he gazed at Colin without speaking then sighed. “Let’s just say I’m glad it’s over.”
“Can you talk about it?”
Joshua shook his head. “Can’t. Quent’s handling the case for your office. I’ll talk to him later.”
“Let’s just hope he thinks it’s winnable,” Colin said with a sardonic smirk.
Joshua scoffed. “Let’s just hope it gets totrial.”
“That bad, huh.”
“Yeah. That bad.” He got to his feet. “I should scoot. Let you get on with your day. I just wanted to see you for a second.”
Colin rose and closed his office door, then turned and took Joshua into his arms. “How ‘bout you let me take you out to dinner tonight, hmmm?” He nuzzled against Joshua’s cheek. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. You need a night off from cooking.”
Joshua twined his arms around his husband and pressed his face to Colin’s neck, drawing in and exhaling a deep breath, savoring the feeling of Colin’s arms tight around him. “Damn that’s good!” he breathed out, then leaned back and met Colin’s eyes. “How about we just grab take-out. I’d rather be home with you.”
“You got it, bud. Think about where you want to go, and we’ll head there as soon as I get home.”
Joshua nodded and caressed Colin’s cheek, then turned toward the door. “See you later.”
“Did you give Sheila a protein bar?”
“I did!” Joshua said, then grinned and waved as he moved down the hall.
* * *
He stoppedby the clinic long enough to drop off the notes he had taken during the evaluation, then retraced his steps to the parking lot, relieved to be headed for home. He had barely reached his car when he heard Miranda calling his name.
“Josh,” she called. “Hang on a second!” She ran to where he stood, her cell phone clutched tight in her hand. “It’s Chrissy,” she told him, and when Joshua huffed out a frustrated sigh and bowed his head, she took a half-step backward. “You don’t have to talk to her, Josh. In fact, I’d advise you not to.”
“She’s my patient.”
“She’s also manipulating you,” Miranda said. “Look, Josh. She wants you there to rescue her when things go bad but won’t put in the work necessary to actually deal with her problem. You’re her emotional pit stop. Someone she can bitch to during a crisis and ignore the rest of the time. That’s not helping her.”
Joshua stared down at the ground drawing in deep, even breaths. Then he nodded and held out his hand for the phone. After taking another deep breath he lifted it to his ear. “What is it, Chrissy?”
“Doctor Abrams, please! I need your help. He beat me up again. I’m at University Hospital, and I need you to take me to my car so I can drive home.”
