By Lacy

"What's on your mind?" Dr. Wilborn queries.

"I don't know where to begin."

"Why don't you tell me why you decided to come see me instead of your regular therapist. Have you had relapse, Donna?"

"No, it's not that. I have a stomach of steel," I tell her. Silence passes before I can organize my thoughts enough to answer her first question. "I guess I came to see you because my regular therapist has never met Josh."

"Ah, I see."

"Do you?"

"You got me," she laughs. "I'm going to need a little more than that. What does this have to do with Josh? Are you two having problems?"

"Well, yes, but that's not why I'm here." The bookcase to my left has an inexplicable draw and I become inordinately interested in the knick knacks and photos on the shelves. She picks up a pen and clicks the top mechanism, and begins taking notes on a yellow legal pad.

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Donna? I find that usually helps."

"The beginning," I sigh. "Right. Long story or short?"

"Short's fine," she replies. "I'll let you know if you leave anything out."

"I'm sure you will."

"So? You and Josh had a fight?"

"Yeah. I've never seen him that angry. The particulars of the fight aren't important."

"You don't think so?"

"This is you telling me my version of the story is too short. Okay. He accused me of orchestrating our entire relationship, of purposely losing messages from another woman, so that he would think she wasn't interested."

"Was this woman important in his life?"

"She could've been...if they'd been given a chance."

"But they weren't."

"No. I didn't lose the messages. It happened when someone else was in charge of the phone." I discover that a lump has risen up unexpectedly in my throat, and my eyes have begun to tear. Dr. Wilborn points to the tissues on the edge of her desk. I take a seat in the chair opposite her desk.

As I filch a few tissues and wipe my eyes, she takes the opportunity to speak. "You're aware that PTSD can bring negative emotions to surface, right?"

I nod.

"I don't want to excuse his anger Donna, but I think I can help you understand it better."

"Okay."

"You've heard the old saying 'It's a thin line between love and hate'?" I nod again. "When you love someone it's so easy to step over that line, even without mental health problems. For Josh, it's probably easier than for most. Did he hit you?"

"No," I say defensively.

"I was just wondering about the faded bruises on your face."

Of their own accord, my hands touch my cheeks. I had thought I'd successfully covered the slowly healing damage. "He didn't hit me," I tell her in a certain tone. "I'll get to that part of the story later."

"Why don't you get to it now."

"He didn't hit me," I reiterate.

"Donna," she smiles. "Thirty seconds after I met you I knew you were a terrible liar." She pauses for a beat. "So, tell me how you got the bruises."

"I left," I whisper. "After the fight, I took his car and I left. I drove around for hours, just thinking and crying. Finally, I pulled over, because I was afraid of wrecking the car. By the time I realized I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was too late."

"It usually is. What happened?"

"Leon Proctor happened."

She perks up, one eyebrow slowly rising. "The guy who killed the police officer?"

"The same. He needed a hostage and apparently I needed to learn how to lock the car doors."

"So you're the unidentified victim. Donna, I'm so sorry."

"As if my night couldn't get any worse, right? He held me hostage for hours. We just drove around avoiding the cops."

"What was going through your mind?"

"That I was going to die," I shrug. "That he was going to kill me the way he killed the officer. He took a sick pleasure in describing the details of her death. I didn't want to be shot in the head."

"Did you think about Josh at all?"

"Of course. I didn't want him to have to identify my body."

"But he didn't kill you."

"Josh would say that by leaving me for dead, he killed me. The fact that I survived doesn't change that. It’s all about intent."

"Do you believe that?"

"I'm not sure. No, I guess not. I think he left me alive for a reason. I think he could have shot me in the head without a twinge of conscience. He talked about the cop like she was nothing. He talked about how he shot her with her own gun, and how she begged for her life."

"So, what happened at the end?"

"It was raining and cold. He pointed the gun at me, but decided he wanted me on my knees. I wouldn't do it so he forced me to kneel." The tears stream liberally down my cheeks now, and the tissues in my hand are sodden. "I just wanted it to be over."

"You goaded him," she concludes.

"Yes. But then he started hitting me with the gun. He hit me over and over, and then everything went black. The next thing I can remember is waking up in the hospital three days later.

"You survived a terrible ordeal, Donna."

"I know. It's just that...."

"What?"

"He didn't kill me," I say, a hint of incredulity in my voice. "He pointed the gun at the center of my forehead and he didn't pull the trigger. Why didn't I die that night? I think I was supposed to die that night."

"You weren't supposed to die that night," she shakes her head.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you didn't survive Leon Proctor by accident. You survived because of what you did. Or rather, what you didn't do."

"What do you mean...what I didn't do?"

"You didn't beg for your life."

The sound of a pin dropping could be heard in the room as the entire picture of those last moments with Proctor come into focus. I didn't beg because I wouldn't give him the satisfaction, and that's what saved my life. Well, that, a German Shepherd, and a couple of pints of blood. "So, he let me live because I refused to beg?"

"Proctor's pleasure comes from offering someone life and then taking it away. In your mind, you were as good as dead and, I'd be willing to bet you told him as much. Of course, if you hadn't been completely heartbroken at the time, you probably would've begged."

"And I'd be dead. But if it hadn't been for the fight I never would have been there in the first place."

"Never assume anything, Donna. Something else could have driven you out of the house that night. You could've encountered him when you were going to the store to get milk. And instead of being a heartbroken young woman, you would've been someone who had everything to live for. Everything worth begging for. I’m a firm believer in choosing your own destiny, Donna, but what if you and Proctor were somehow destined to cross paths? What if you were supposed to learn something that night?"

"Like what?"

She shrugs. "What am I, the Amazing Karnac? I can’t tell you what you were supposed to learn since I was neither there that night, nor the designer of the lesson. That’s something you have to figure out for yourself."

"I guess."

"It's just another perspective. Are you and Josh still together?"

"Together is a relative term."

"Skip the Gregory Hines impersonation."

"We're living in the same house but have separate bedrooms."

"You're not ready?"

"No"

"What are you waiting for?"

"It's so much more complicated now."

"You don't think you can forgive him?"

"A part of me has forgiven him. But it's so much more complicated now."

"You said that already. What are you not telling me?"

"Josh says you're psychic."

"I'm having an off day," she shrugs.

"When I was in the emergency room, the doctor discovered that I'm pregnant."

"Ah, I see," she pauses. "And this time I really mean it."

"I'm not ready," I tell her.

"For a baby?"

"Yeah. I'm not ready."

"Newsflash, Donna. Nobody's ready. Even when they're ready they're not ready."

"But everything is so...complicated." I'm really starting to get sick of that word.

"Only because you're making it that way."

"What?"

"I'll get back to that later. How is Josh behaving around you now? Does he blame you for what happened?"

"No, he blames himself."

"Whose idea was it to sleep in separate bedrooms?"

"When I came home from the hospital he'd moved all his things into the guestroom."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Relieved, at first. I just didn’t want to deal with him, yet."

"And now?"

My feelings are so clear to me now, but I've only just realized it. "I miss him."

"Do you want him back?"

"I want the old Josh back."

"Who's the new Josh?"

"He's someone I don't know. I don't know how to handle him, or how to be around him. He's so agreeable he's practically subservient. Before...we were so in sync that there were times people would wonder who was in charge."

"I remember."

"My regular therapist wouldn't understand that," I remind her. "How do I get the old Josh back?"

"By giving him the freedom to be the old Josh."

"How do I do that?"

"It's all very simple. Let him off the hook, Donna. Tell him his period of penance is over. This game you two are playing...it's muddling everything up. It's slowing the healing process."

"Maybe it should be slow."

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't know. I don't want to rush things, that's what messed us up in the first place."

"No, Josh's condition messed things up. It has a tendency to take the good emotions and twist them. He'll get better, Donna, it just takes time."

"I got too comfortable."

"Yes. You have to remember that his demons are still there, and now they've probably been joined by a few more."

"What about the baby?" I ask. A part of me is wishing she would just take me by the hand and tell me exactly what to do.

"Well," her forehead crinkles up. "Like I said, nobody's ever ready for a baby. The best they can be is prepared. It should be understood that I'm referring to reasonably healthy people."

"Are Josh and I reasonably healthy people?"

"Do either of you keep human body parts in your fridge?"

"No."

"Well, there you have it. How does he feel about it?"

"He says he'll respect whatever decision I make."

"So, you're considering terminating?"

"It’s a possibility," I shrug.

"Do you buy what he's telling you?"

"No."

"Still paying penance?"

"I think so. He's been pretty clear that he wants the baby."

"And?"

"I'm afraid that's why he's staying with me."

"Are you really, Donna? I mean, deep inside you, do you actually believe that? Think about it. First things first, you need to talk about the baby. I sense that you've both avoided the issue for as long as you could."

"Yeah, I guess. I just wanted to give myself a chance to, you know, heal before I made any decisions."

"Very wise of you. Donna, how do you feel about the baby?"

"I don't know. It doesn't feel real to me yet."

"If it didn't feel real to you we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I try not to let it feel real."

"That's more honest."

"So what should I do?"

"I can't tell you that, Donna. I can't answer what's best for you. Only you know the solution to your dilemma. All I can do is ask a few questions that might help guide you."

"Like what?"

"Well...would terminating your pregnancy wipe the slate clean? Would everything go back to normal if you were simply not pregnant anymore?"

"I doubt it."

"In your case, I think it would be wishful thinking on your part. Would having an abortion make your life better in any way?"

"It could make things easier in the long run, yes."

"I didn't ask if it would make things easier. I asked if it would make things better. Think about it Donna, because you should be absolutely sure before you do something irreversible. There's no room for doubt, here. Doubt only leads to guilt." She pauses to make a few more notations on her pad. "Tell me something, Donna. Do you think you would make a bad mother?"

"No. I've always thought I would be a good mother."

"Why?"

"Because...I don't know...because I like to take care of people."

"Uh huh. What do think you would accomplish by terminating your pregnancy?"

"I could wait until I'm more prepared."

"The only thing you can do to prepare is read some books, buy some baby clothes, and fix up a nursery, Donna. No matter how prepared you are, babies don't come with an instruction manual. What are you afraid of?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm trying to find out what's the basic issue you're having here. To do something this drastic, something that goes directly against your inherent nature, you must be afraid of something."

"I'm afraid of everything," I tell her.

"Let's narrow it down. When I ask you what you're afraid of, what's the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"Being alone."

"You think Josh is going to leave you?"

"Maybe. Someday."

"Making decisions based on a future that might not happen is no way to live your life, Donna. What else?"

"Failing."

"At motherhood? It's a common fear. Every woman worries about it. Talking to people who've been there could really help you. What else?"

"Not being strong enough."

"Define strong."

"Emotionally, psychologically. I'm not the healthiest person out there."

"True, but you're not the sickest either. Look, Donna, you spent several hours being terrorized by a murderer, and survived. I think, for the rest of your life you don't have to prove your strength to anybody. Most women who went through the kind of thing you went through wouldn't be able to string two sentences together for the first few months. Believe me, I've seen it. What else?"

"I'm afraid of it changing my life."

She takes a deep breath. "Can't help you with that one. It's a valid fear."

"Thanks a lot."

"What do you want me to tell you, Donna? That you can have a baby and go right back to business as usual? You can't. That doesn't mean that you have to give up everything you love about your life. It requires planning ahead."

"Something we didn't get to do," I remind her.

"You're not having the baby tomorrow. You've still got time, you're just working under an accelerated clock."

"Josh and I are pretty good at that."

"Donna, we're spinning our wheels here," she announces.

"How so?"

"I think you already know what you want. In fact, I think somewhere inside of you, you made your decision a long time ago. I think you just needed to talk to someone who had a little distance from the situation."

"So, what now?"

"Go home and talk to Josh. Hash things out. You're not doing yourselves any favors by keeping your thoughts from each other. Just...be true to yourself, Donna. You can't go wrong with that."

"Thank you, Dr. Wilborn. You’ve given me a lot to think about." I gather my purse from the floor beside the chair.

"You’re welcome, Donna, and you can call me Stella. By the way," she peruses the folder, which I assume contains my patient history, "if you decide to have the baby, you’re going to have to stop taking the lorezepam. And one more thing…." She stands from her desk and leads me over to the door and out into the corridor.

"Yes?"

"Feel free to make an appointment any time. If you don’t feel that your therapist is working for you, we should be able to make other arrangements."

"Thank you, Stella."

"My pleasure. Did you drive or take a cab?"

"Cab," I tell her.

"Terri," Stella speaks to the receptionist when we reach the lobby. "Could you please call Donna a cab?"

"Yes, Doctor," the woman replies, picking the phone up from the cradle.

"I’ll walk you out," she tells me. "I have a shift at the hospital this evening. You were my last appointment for the day."

TBC

****