Session Six

The next time we met, I was the first one to speak. "Tell me about your wife." I had waited until we were both in our usual chairs. He had been staring at the portrait again when I had come into the waiting room. Silently, I had ushered him back into my office. Throughout the week, I had been going over and over in my head his last words to me. He couldn't have been serious and I bloody well knew he wasn't. It was in his nature to mix up love with other feelings. I had helped him and he felt an affection for me for just that.

So I had decided to start this session more towards the objects of his true affection. And all I got was a smile in return.

"Ah, so you did remember what I said to you the last time."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"You shouldn't lie."

"Nor should you. Now tell me about your wife."

He sighed. "My wife and I met a long time ago. It was an arranged marriage. Most Pureblood families generally have those. Personally, I think the entire ordeal should have been obliterated long ago. But even if it had, Narcissa and I would have ended up together anyways. She and I are too close in nature and personality to be anything but together."

"Go on."

"We started corresponding with letters at first. There was a five year age difference between us and I had first thought I would be marrying someone who would forever be slower than I. More dimwitted and such. Less experienced. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was quite beyond her years in her intelligence and wit and we soon found ourselves getting on well together. In many ways, she was my escape from reality and I was her own."

"Why is this?"

"We didn't have the best in home lives. Both of our fathers were abusive to some extent. When we came together, we had a chance to play happy families and the like. We looked to each other for a chance to end the dreary reality we both lived within."

"So she became a personal surviving tool for you?"

"Yes. Only she wasn't just useful. She was loved. I know this sounds disgustingly sentimental, but in many ways, she isn't just in my life, she is my life."

"You said the same about Mr. V. before."

"Did I?" A shrug. "He means a lot to me. But Narcissa is my wife of over twenty-some years. She had my greatest creation."

"So even though you and her were in an arranged marriage, there is love involved?"

"Naturally."

"Do you two ever experience problems?"

"What married couple doesn't?"

"So you two are happy together."

"Sort of."

Again with the elusiveness. Fortunately, I had learned to be a bit more direct. "Care to elaborate?"

"It's nothing that big. She gets upset because I tend to speak with the guys I work with more than her. Plus the fact that this thing with Mr. V. is wearing us both down. She hates Mr. V. because she thinks he's, I don't know, ungrateful or something."

"Maybe she just doesn't want to lose you."

"She won't lose me. It'll take more than what's going on to lose me."

"Will it? From what you told me before, you're afraid that these attacks might be the sign that you're finally going crazy."

"I know what I said."

"Maybe she, like yourself, is also afraid that this is a sign and wants you to find the cure for it just as much as you do. She might also consider Mr. V. to be one of the prime sources for your attacks. From what you told to me, it seems as though you're a bit dependent on this man, or friends with him at least. Normally, close friends seem to share the same feelings."

"So, what? You're saying I'm picking up some of his depression?"

"I'm saying that she might be afraid of losing you."

Silence greeted me, but it wasn't an angry silence. Just a contemplative one. "If she was afraid, why would she stay with me?"

"Because she loves you."

"It's a hellish life for her."

"Is it?"

"She's not a stupid woman. If she didn't like the situation, she'd step out of it. I suppose it's love that keeps her around and all, but there has to be something else she likes. There is something, I guess, about my running around, my evasiveness about what I do that provides her with something she needs. If I were to suddenly become the husband she's always dreamed about, I don't think it would be as fulfilling to her or satisfactory as it is now. What we've got going on now, the complaining, the confusion, the anger, and the disappointment, while it's all negative, it's also very real and, I think, an integral part of our relationship. She'd probably deny it if heard it aloud, but still."

"You think she enjoys the fact that you're taking off with others and isn't serious when she complains about it?"

"No, I think she is serious. But if given the choice, she'd probably rather have more of it, if only because then she'd have more of me. I think I've let her down in the past few months. I hadn't tried to do so, but I did."

"What do you intend to do about it?"

"There's very little I can do about it. I keep telling her that it'll get better and I'm confident that it will. I just don't like it when she gets on my case about me staying out all night or me taking on extra work. I know she has a right to complain about it, but still. I know what I'm doing."

"Maybe she wants an equal footing with you. If she can't be there beside you, then she wants to help you in anyway she can. Most wives would do the same for their husband."

"She isn't like most wives."

"I see."

"I mean, it's like living with a child molester. She has to censor everything she says to others, she isn't allowed in on some facets of my life, she needs to stay away from the wrong people, it a lot of ways, she's learned the main rule of keeping quiet around other people. To her, I think belonging with me is like being placed in a house with a group of people who she doesn't like, but who she puts up with for my sake."

"And what do you do in return?"

"I try to make her happy. I mean, she has her own friends and all, but they don't try to take her away from me. They don't keep her out late at night. I don't even know if they make her happy. I'd like to see her get an outlet somewhere. You know, take up a hobby. Get kickboxing training or something, anything, to help keep her mind off me for awhile."

"Why do you not want her to think about you?"

"Because she worries about me and I don't want her to worry."

"In many ways, this is a lot like Mr. V's situation with you."

"How so?"

"You don't want her to worry, yet she does so. She wants to help you and you're not allowing her to do so. It seems that Mr. V. isn't allowing you to help him, though you're constantly worried about him."

"So what should I do?"

"What do you think you should do?"

"First off, my reasons for not getting her involved have nothing to do with whatever Mr. V's reasons are."

"Are you sure about that?"

"They couldn't be. I'm not apathetic."

"No, but you are remorseless. You've a tendency towards antisocial behaviour. I think it would benefit you to probably talk to her about all this. Tell her what you're feeling. If she does want to help you, then you should feel that you can go to her with your problems as much as you want Mr. V. to go to you with his own."

"And you honestly think this will help?"

"I don't see how it could hurt. But in the end, the choice is up to you."

"Isn't it always?" The clock chimed four and he stood up. "See you next week, doc." And then he was gone.

I'm not sure if I had managed to help him or not for this session. He hadn't told me much about his wife's personality and the like, but what he had to say seemed to be a bit more critical than usual. As though he had done more thinking on his wife than he had any other subject. He was certainly well informed as to his own thoughts on his wife, and really, that was how it should be.

Inside my car was the gift basket I had refused from last week. It sat upon my car's passenger seat. A reminder as to just what this man I was currently treating could do if he chose to, and as a thank you. Such a contradiction.

My car squeaked as I started it up.