“But,”There it is. “It may also be a detriment, because it can make you reckless. You have no real sense of fear, and you’re completely unafraid to push the boundaries of your personal safety – whether it’s with casual sexual encounters, excessive drinking, or going out into a dark alleyway alone, with no viable forms of communication at hand.”
I thought about her words for a moment. I guessed there was some truth to what she was saying, but it wasn’t exactly something I would be able to fix. As I saw it,I’d been fucked up for so long it was no longer a changeable trait, but an ingrained part of my nature. Sure, I could get better at managing my fucked-upedness, but – let’s face facts here – I’d never be completely normal.
“I don’t suppose there’s a magic pill you can prescribe to fix this little problem of mine, right?” Ijoked.
“You don’t need medication, Brooklyn. Just keep your cellphone with you next time,” Dr. Angelini smirked.
I laughed. “Did you just make a joke, doc?”
“Definitely not,”she denied, inducing an eye roll from me almost instantly. “Now, I want to discuss your dreams in the few minutes we have left. Have you had more since we last spoke?”
“Yes, and they seem to be getting more frequent; they’ve pretty much taken the place of my regular nightmares – which is okay, cause my nightmares sucked and I look way better sans the dark under-eye circles.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think Dr. Angelini was holding back a laugh.
“I’ve dreamed about the foster home and the boy three nights this week,” I continued. “And I think you’re right about them being triggered memories – there’s no way my dreams would be that specific if they hadn’t actually happened to me at some point. So now I guess all I have to do is find their trigger.”
“I don’t believe it’s something you should necessarily be actively searching for. When your mind is ready, youmay simply remember naturally,” Dr. Angelini shrugged delicately. “And as I’ve said before, there’s no exact science to how our memories work, Brooklyn. My advice would be to live your life and not dwell too much in the past. It sounds like, for the first time in a long while, you’re really enjoying just being in your present.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, smilingwistfully as I thought of Finn. “I finally have something that makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning.”
Our time was officially up, and we’d barely even scratched the surface of everything that had been going on in my soap opera of a life. Dr. Angelini stood and ushered me to the door, reaching out at the last second to press a business card into my hand.
“This has my personal cell number on it. I don’t usually give it out to patients,” she explained. “But I want you to know that I’m always here if you need me, Brooklyn – even if it isn’t for a scheduled session.”
It was clear that her concern for my welfare extended beyond that of a normal doctor-patient relationship, and her maternal gesture made my heart ache. I wondered whether Dr. Angelini had kids and a family of her own; she didn’t wear a wedding ring, so I assumed she wasn’t married, and she didn’t exactly give off a motherly vibe. I was suddenly struck by the thought that she might be a little bit lonely too.
Somehow, that endeared her to me further.
Though I was definitely not a hugger – and I got the sense that Dr. Angelini wasn’t either – I tentatively wrapped my arms around her petite frame and lightly embraced her. She startled at first but recovered quickly, her arms coming up to squeeze me equally hesitantly. After what was perhaps the most awkward hug in the history of mankind, I detached and took a hasty step out of her space.
Clearing my throat, I did my best to dismiss the uncharacteristic display ofaffection I’d just initiated as no big deal. “Well, thanks doc. I can’t make any promises that your number won’t end up in an newspaper ad for a phone-sex hotline, though,” I teased.
“Well, Brooklyn,” she grinned the mostgenuine smile I’d ever seen from her, pushing me out into the hallway. “I suppose if that happens, I can’t promise that I won’t recommend you for a lifetime of institutionalization in one of Virginia’s finest state asylums.”
I laughed as I walked down the hall, turning totoss a goodbye over my shoulder. “See you next week, doc.”
“Until then, Brooklyn,” she returned, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
Maybe it was sad, because I was paying her and all, but I was pretty sure my shrink was one of the best friends I’d ever had.
Or, maybe I was crazy after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Blindsided
A week passed quietly, and I had the luxury of acting like I was a normal college student for a brief span of time. There were no more attacks, mysterious deliveries, or asthmatic phone calls. I went to my classes every day, whichremarkably seemed only to be growing more boring and unchallenging as the semester progressed and my professors lost any of their prior academic verve. I completed my homework each night, which took me an hour at most, and occasionally I pulled out my textbooks and forced myself to study until my eyes were drifting closed; memorizing the names and details of every major Supreme Court case over the last five decades is enough to put anyone to sleep. Mostly, though, I just tried to take Dr. Angelini’s advice by enjoying the blissful ease of living in the present.
In time, my bruises faded, then disappeared completely. The scrapes took longer, but each day Finn helped me apply antiseptic and change their bandages; he was also a firm believer that hiskiss-it-betterapproach had real healing properties, and he’d insist on running his mouth over each of my injuries at least once a day.
I think it actually had more to do with him getting me naked, but I wasn’t exactly complaining.
The police had completely ruled out Gordon’s involvement in my attack, leaving me slightly unsettled and more than a little confused about the identity of my mystery attacker. I’d been so ready to believe it was him – to tie a neat little bow around the case and remove all of the unease that came with knowing the person who’d tried to rape – or maybe evenkill– me that night was still walking around, a free man.
Apparently, Gordon had been occupied– quite publically – at the exact time I was battling for my life in the alleyway, with his tongue stuck down the throat of a cheerleader in full view of numerous Styx patrons. There was no way it could have been him, unless he had a super power that allowed him to be in two places at once.
Somehow, I doubted that was the case.