Here's my new story, it's a modern one again with a rather dark undertone. Thank you very much to pussycatwithattitude for suggesting the title, editing my chapters, reviewing them and helping me construct this story. You truly are the best. Also, thank you poma14 for your opinions and helping me with the storyline, it means a lot to me. :)
I'd like to take this chance to thank you all for the reviews and favourites for my one-shot, Never Doubt. I enjoyed every single one.
Please let me know what you think of this one.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately not mine.
"John, can I call you John?"
He shrugged, "Can I call you Anna?"
She nodded, but he didn't see. His eyes were everywhere but on her, she knew this was going to be difficult, but she wouldn't give up. He must have been through an awful period and she wanted to help him, she knew she could. But so far he had answered all of her questions with another one.
"John, if I am to help you, then you'll have to give me more than just questions."
He avoided her intent gaze; this was exactly what he had been afraid of. He would have to tell everything to a stranger, things he wouldn't even tell his mum, because they would never understand. His wounds had started to heal, but he knew nothing could ever heal what was broken inside him.
"Why are you here, John?"
His eyes met hers for the first time since he came in, "You know why I'm here."
She stared straight back at him; she wouldn't let herself be intimidated. But he was right, she knew why he was there. It had been all over the news, the minute he was back in the country cameras had not left him alone. She had seen how broken he was – how alone – and she knew she could help him.
"Do you want to be here?"
"No."
"Then why are you?"
He leaned forward, his hands clasped under his chin, "Because..."
His voice died down and she urged him to continue on, "Because what, John?"
He sighed, leaning back again as his eyes locked onto hers, "Because my mother wanted me to see someone, before things got worse."
She nearly hadn't heard that last part, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke, "What do you mean by worse?"
He remained silent, looking past her with a distant look in his eyes. Anna tried to get through to him.
"John?"
He rubbed his eyes tiredly, "I don't see how it could get worse."
She looked at him intently, he looked pale and the bags under his eyes betrayed the truth, that he hadn't been sleeping for a very long time.
"I guess she's just afraid."
"How so?"
He let out a bitter laugh, "That I'm going to turn out like my old man."
"What do you mean?"
He ignored her question, "That's why she wanted me to come here, I know that and she knows it too."
"She cares about you."
She thought she could see the shadow of a smile passing over his features, but it was gone before she could even think about it.
He shrugged, "It's what they do best."
"They?"
"Parents, they care."
"Do you feel like they care for you?"
"My mum does, I wouldn't know for my dad. I haven't seen him for thirty years."
There it was – the first thing he had shared with her. She knew from experience that a first session could be a difficult process, but once they shared something – it doesn't matter how small – that was one step forwards.
"Would you like to talk about that?"
He looked at her intently, "It's in the past, talking about it won't change a thing."
"The past is what guides us through the present, talking about it helps."
He moved uncomfortably on the sofa, "There's not much to tell."
She just watched him, not saying anything, waiting for him to begin. He avoided her gaze again and she found herself wondering what was going on in his mind, how she wished he would see that talking was the best thing he could do now.
His eyes found hers again, sighing before he relented. "He wasn't around much when I was a kid. I came home from school and he wasn't there, I went to bed, he wasn't there, I woke up, he wasn't there."
"How did that make you feel?"
"What do you think?" He sounded agitated, "I was just a kid and my dad wasn't there. Other dads picked their kids up from school, took them out to play football and mine, if he came home at all, sat in his armchair, a drink in one hand, the remote in the other."
He remained silent for a while looking around the room, just anywhere but her. She was still so young, how could she understand how his life had changed him? She knew what had happened, but she didn't know half of the story.
He looked around the room, trying to find something about her. A lot could be discovered about a person from the way they decorated their home, but this was her office. There was nothing private to see or she wouldn't have placed it here in the first place. This was the room where she received her patients and if there was one thing he knew about therapists, it was that they wanted to keep their private life separate from their work. His eyes went over the bookshelf, shaking his head as he noticed she had several books about Freud. Typical, he thought.
"What is it?"
The sound of her voice made him turn his head back to her, raising his eyebrows as if he hadn't heard what she said.
"Why were you shaking your head?"
"I just..." He pointed at her bookshelf, "You have several books about Freud."
She nodded, but she didn't say anything, sensing he wanted to say more.
"I visited his house in Vienna a few years ago."
She tried not to show her surprise, "What took you to Vienna?"
"An article." He looked out of the window, remembering the three days he spent there and a small smile formed on his lips.
She noticed the change in him, "How long were you there?"
"Only three days, but we saw the most important things."
"We?"
"Robert and I." He didn't know why, but he felt the need to explain himself, "We've been mates since primary school."
"You must have a strong bond then."
"I'd like to think we do. We studied together and even though I lived in Ireland for a couple of years after that, we kept in touch and then I started working for him."
"As a journalist?"
He locked his eyes with hers again, there was something in her blue eyes he couldn't quite put his finger on, but somehow it felt as if he found comfort there. He nodded, "He was the editor-in-chief, but every few months we would do a city trip together. We'd say it was for an article, but it never really was. We just wanted to go away, if only for a few days."
"What do you mean with wanting to go away?"
He sighed, the conversation had turned again, going from a happy place to the reason Robert took him out every few months.
"You really want to know everything, don't you?"
She remained silent, but that irritated him even more,
"I don't even know you and I have to tell you everything that messed up my life." He leaned forward, his hand going through his hair in a frustrated manner, "What do you want me to say? You know why I'm here, why do I have to tell you everything that happened before I was..." He shook his head, sighing, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued, "I don't even tell these things to people I know, why would I tell you?"
He looked up into her eyes again and she could see the pain hidden beneath, she knew she could help him if he would let her. She needed to earn his trust in some way. If he couldn't trust her, he wouldn't let her in.
"John, no one forced you to come here. You're free to go any time you want, but if you stay and you let me in, I can help you."
"I don't know if I can be helped."
"Will you let me try?"
He remained silent for a while, struggling with himself. His mother had wanted him to seek help and if he was completely honest with himself, he knew he needed it. This wasn't something he could do by himself, but telling everything to a stranger? Even if she seemed genuine, he never shared anything about himself to anyone. Only Robert knew him.
As if she could sense his inner struggle, she tried to break through it again. "Nothing you say will ever leave this room."
Her words struck something inside him and when he looked back in her eyes, he felt like it wouldn't do him harm to let her try and help him. At least she wanted to.
"I got married in my early twenties to a woman called Vera." She gave him a slight nod of the head as if they had come to an agreement and he continued, "Deep down I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I was young and I thought I was in love."
"What happened?"
"We weren't right together, it was a self-destructive relationship. We drank too much and in the end I just realised I'd had enough, enough of that life. It wasn't what I had imagined for myself."
"What did you imagine?"
"What everyone imagines I guess, a wife I loved and who loved me, and children. But I didn't know what it could be like. I never saw a happy family."
"And you didn't see it with Vera either?"
"No, not at all. She hated children and thinking about it I didn't even want children with her. I just couldn't see her as a mother figure."
"So you divorced her?"
"I left her, but she didn't even realise until a couple of days after I had gone. You see, she wasn't the most faithful of women."
"Did it hurt you?"
"I don't know, I didn't care at the time. But it makes you think."
"Think about what?"
He shook his head, "I don't know. Myself? Am I so hard to love? And then all the what ifs come to mind. What if I never married her? What if I never even met her?" He remained silent for a while, looking around again, "When I left her I started working as a journalist for Robert. He knew I was having a hard time, because she couldn't leave me alone, she wouldn't let me live my life and she was doing everything she could to prevent the divorce. It was Rob's idea to do those trips."
"Was he running away as well?"
"Robert? No, he has the perfect family, or rather he had." He swallowed deeply, when Robert lost his daughter and his son-in-law it had hit John hard as well. "He did it for me." He reflected on his bond with Robert, "He's one of the good guys."
"The good guys?"
"Yeah, he'd do anything, so would I, but I'm not one of the good guys."
"Why not?"
"I'm just not."
He remained silent for a while, letting everything sink in for a moment.
She looked at her watch and she knew she had to end their session, even though she would rather continue. They had hit something, but it wouldn't be good for him to delve deeper into his past during his first session. It was more important to make him feel comfortable, and that's why she needed to end it now.
"I'm afraid our hour is over, John."
His eyes wandered to the clock and he nodded, acknowledging her words. He stood up with the help of his cane and he had to grit his teeth against the pain shooting through his knee.
"Are you all right, John?"
There it was – the pity. Every time people saw him he could see pity in their eyes, but he didn't want it. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to remain calm as he turned his head to look into her eyes. But all he could see was genuine concern, there was no pity in her eyes and he felt relieved, maybe this won't be as hard as he thought.
He gave her a weak smile, "I can manage."
"Of course you can."
Their gazes remained locked for a few moments longer until she broke the silence.
"Will I see you again next week?"
"You got me this far, Miss Smith." He stretched out his hand towards her, "I'll see you next week."
She took his hand in hers and gave him a soft smile, "Until then, Mr Bates."
He was the last patient of the day and she was relieved, it gave her more time to think it all through. The first session between a therapist and a patient was always some sort of test, to see if they could get along and she was glad he told her he'd come back. She replayed their conversation in her mind, looking over the notes she had made whilst he had been talking. She had to admit, she was intrigued. He was a mysterious figure, but there was kindness in him. She had seen it, if only for a few seconds. Somehow she knew she could bring it back to him. There was something in his smile and the way he looked at her that made her believe they could get through this.