Chapter Eleven
"So," Dr. Paula Gyson recast her question, "your greatest fear?"
"No," Goren sat up abruptly, "I-I don't see how this relates, I mean, i-it's too, it's a risk, and I can't - "
Gyson held up her right hand in a half-hearted attempt to get him to sit back down, "wait, let's try the technique."
His head was exploding from the inside, and Gyson wanted him to count to ten!
Fighting his natural instinct to remain noncompliant, Goren took in a deep breath and returned to a seated position. He closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. As each number resonated through his skull, he tried to focus on his breathing.
"Okay?" Gyson held her head to the side, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes.
He opened his eyes and nodded. Admittedly, even though this was his eighth session, Goren still didn't feel he trusted Gyson enough – well, enough to share something so fucking personal.
"Do you feel less threatened?"
"I'm not threatened," Goren spoke in what could only be perceived as a warning.
Gyson appeared slightly disappointed, "I may be pushing you too quickly."
Goren shook his head, eyes deliberately trained on Gyson, "no, let's keep going."
"You seem fatigued," Gyson looked reticent, "I'm sure you understand that there are physiological changes going on as your body heals."
"Now you are taking the defensive posture," Goren challenged, "pulling away, giving up on me, right? I-I'm beyond help, you said as much during previous sessions. In fact, you never answered the question regarding whether it is even possible for a man like me to have a normal relationship. You, uh, you simply generalized your answer: with time, work, more sessions - "
"This is but one session detective," Gyson emphasized, "we can't begin to solve a complex situation in one single session. Surely you must understand that we are dealing with deeply seeded issues: Issues that have formed over years - habits, decisions, and life choices that have helped shape who you are today."
"This stream of psycho-babble," Goren laughed, "I mean, what the hell does it mean? I need your help. Real help, not a bunch of hypotheticals and conjecture."
"Then let me help you," Gyson asserted calmly.
"Look," she continued, "You're good, real good at dodging my questions. But I need you to stop using everything in your arsenal to fight me."
He was just about to protest, when she held up her hand for good measure, "Now stay with me." Gyson stressed, "Let's get this straight: you can't, or you won't share your fears with me? Because, to me, this sounds like a trust issue."
He looked away, irritated. Irritated, of course, because she was skillfully taking away some of his best strategies.
"So tell me detective," Gyson proposed, "if you can't trust that what goes on in this room isn't going to come back and bite you on your backside, well then, what can I possibly do to help you?"
Goren felt another spark of anger shoot through his nervous system. With her carefully constructed line of questioning, Gyson had deftly backed him into the corner of the room. He now shared the same primal emotions of a feral dog in a cage: tail between his legs, hackles raised, ears back and teeth barred – prepared to bite if needed. With flight no longer an option, should he fight? That, or he could curl up in a ball and take his beating.
And truth be told, in so many ways, he was the one who had challenged her. Indeed, he was the one during today's session who asked her to proceed. No let's keep going.
What the fuck was he thinking? Eight sessions should have told been enough to help him see that Gyson was not afraid to stand up to him, immune to his tactics . . .
Another uncomfortable ten seconds passed before Gyson continued to remount her line of attack, "What is this big risk you don't want to take, don't wish to share?"
He shifted nervously, unable or unwilling to speak.
Gyson bit down on her lower lip, and proceeded slowly, "you are afraid to lose her."
He blanched upon her pronouncement.
Gyson quietly studied him before adding, "you are afraid that," and then she paused again as if a new idea had suddenly filtered into her head, "last week, I described your job at Major Case as your sense of purpose: your job defines you. So without your job, you don't matter."
"And so you believe that outside of your work, if it really, truly is the only thing that matters about you," Gyson continued, "what value could you possibly hold for Alexandra outside of work?"
"Y-you don't understand," Goren spoke just above a whisper, "she is the only one, the only one who has been there for me. S-she, when everyone else thought I was crazy, and you know, with my background, she's never given up on me. She is the one person that believes in me."
"Hmmm. Maybe this will help, or, um, let me phrase this dilemma in a different light," Gyson spoke slowly, deep in concentration, "without your job you are certain you'll lose her, that being because without the job you hold no value to your relationship. But, on the other hand, do you see that by lying to both your partner and yourself – that you'll never have this deep connection, this relationship with her that you desire."
"What do you know about what I desire?" Goren snapped back, his hostility barely contained.
"Like all of humanity," Gyson strung her words together with care, "you are seeking connection: a relationship, acceptance, unconditional love - all things necessary and nurturing to the human spirit."
"And not only is this desire normal human behavior, it is something that every individual deserves," she continued, her eyes never wavering from contact with his, "yes, you deserve this Robert."
Emotion stung, and his nose flared. He wanted to – he wanted to fucking believe.
"So please listen," Gyson emphasized, "Before our next session, I want you to zone in on you first: your needs, your desires. Just be mindful that the introspection this may lead to doesn't include any obsessive thinking patterns that primarily focuses on whether your partner deserves this or didn't ask for that."
Goren shifted uncomfortably, his left hand repeatedly kneading the arm of his chair, "Can you not see that if I, er-uh, once I," he hesitated, "o-once I open up to Eames, tell her how I feel - " he paused before lowering his forehead into the palm of his left hand.
"She'll never look at you the same way again?" Gyson shook her head, "Look, reading over your file and understanding that you've had this very important long term relationship with your partner. Not to mention, listening to you tell me that she's never let you down and has always been there for you through thick or thin. Or how did you say it? That sticking with you for all those years isn't an easy thing to do? Why then? Why is she still by your side?"
"I-I don't know," Goren flinched, "Honestly, I have no goddamned idea."
"Well then," Gyson suggested, "you should ask her."
Gyson must have seen the mortified look spread rapidly across his face, for she quickly added, "I have a feeling Alexandra understands that there is so much more to you than your job."
And before he could refute Gyson's comments, he watched as she eased out of her chair, "I think," Gyson smiled, "we've made real progress today."
He looked up at the clock on her desktop and was amazed to see that an hour had flown by, "uh, okay," he muttered in a haze.
"Is this working for you?" Gyson asked, "Shall we continue a week from today?"
Goren nodded.
"Thank you," he mumbled before exiting from the twin of the door he entered an hour before.
Outside of the office of Dr. Paula Gyson, 931 Broadway, Sunday, June 26
As Goren proceeded down the steps of the refurbished brownstone off of Broadway, it was like deja-vu all over again.
But instead of the black Explorer that had been waiting for him last week, he was treated to the profile of Eames reading a copy of the Post, leaning her back against the side of her familiar white four-door Honda Accord.
As soon as Eames recognized him, she set the copy of the paper on the hood of her car, pulling her sunglasses down just enough to steal a quick glimpse. And upon looking him over up and down, she couldn't hide the grimace that crossed her face if only for a second.
"Who paid to put a tail on me?" he joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
Fuck. Did he really look that bad?
"Between you and my dad," Eames muttered, "it's like you're both in cahoots - trying to age me five years in five days."
"You are a little early for dinner." Goren observed, "unless you got word of a new situation."
Eames shook her head, "Hannah wouldn't dare," before adding, "I'm assuming you were going to take subway home?"
"L-train all the way," Goren announced in very a nonchalant manner.
Eames looked less than thrilled, "I just know that you are going to let me give you a lift. I, um, thought after I dropped you off at your place, I'd could grab some supplies at the store for that home cooked meal I promised."
Even though his head was still swimming through from the intensity of his session with Gyson, it wasn't hard to see that something was riding heavy on his partner's mind.
And part of him wanted to run. His brain was battered and wounded. He needed a break.
Would she kill him if he refused the lift?
TBC