Hello All.

I've been traveling and, thus, a little behind on this chapter. I hope the teaser will keep hold you over for a few more days.

Warning, this has not been beta'ed. ;)

We pick up in Sparrow's office.

She Gives Me Religion
Teaser
Chapter 30

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From the MMPI, to Beck's Depression Inventory, to The PTDS checklists, and the Bi-Polar Diagnostic Scale—Monday was a full morning of testing. It's not Dr. Sparrow's fault. I forced his hand by being so tightlipped during our first session. He had nothing to go on.

"Okay, go ahead, give it to me." I brace myself.

"Edward, there is nothing here that isn't manageable."

"Really…? Can you be more specific?"

"You're showing a high score in anxiety. More specifically, you are still suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Not surprised. "Okay, okay… anything else."

"Well, the only thing of note is Dysthymia—mild depression—probably related to the PTSD." Jasper is good. I think I owe him dinner or something.

"So that's the only thing… or the only thing of note?"

He laughs. "Edward, I'm not used to having clients so familiar with the tests. Is there something specific you're interested in?"

"Um… yeah, yes, there are a few things." He waits, as I go through all the fears I listed this week in my mind. "So, no Bi-polar?" He shakes his head. Oh,thank God. I reconsider going through my full list of concerns, but he said that there was nothing else of note, and I want to leave it at that.

"I'd like to talk about the PTSD for a few minutes. Have you suffered any panic attacks?"

"Yes. I used to have them pretty frequently in the first year or two after my parents passed."

"And recently?"

"Um… how recent?"

"You tell me. The past year? Few months?"

Fuck. I don't know what to tell him. Do I mention the times with Bella—the couch,the Valium? Were those even panic attacks? No,too much back-story,we haven't gotten that far. Wait… "Yes, I had one a little over a month ago."

"What were the circumstances?"

"A funeral." I close my eyes and settle back in my chair, listening to him scribble on his legal pad.

"Someone close to you died?"

"No. I was there to support a friend."

That day seems a year away. I remember sitting in the church parking lot waiting to see her—my beautiful, sad girl. Things were so different back then. She was different.

"Was that your first funeral since your parents died?"

"No. I've been to plenty… It was the music." And Bella. "They had a children's choir singing Fauré Requiem… Pie Jesu…That piece, that piece… I have difficulty with that piece."

"The piece was played at your parents' funeral?"

My mind shifts from Mike's funeral to my parents.'

"Yes."

"I'm sure that funeral was traumatic for you."

"Yes." I can tell this story to someone who really doesn't care. I open my eyes momentarily to see he's still writing. No, he doesn't care. "The music played when we went to the front of the church to carry the caskets."

"You were a pallbearer for your parents?"

"Yes." I open my eyes to see his concern, and close them again. "There were a lot of people there to help, but it was a double funeral… so we needed a several pallbearers. It wasn't in the plan. I wasn't supposed to be a pallbearer."

It's all so clear. The music. Seeing these men lining up to carry my mom and dad, and me watching from the pew. It was painfully wrong.

"I wanted to carry my mom. So… so I went up there… but I was hurt."

"Hurt?"

"My hands were injured." Should I explain? No, it's too much; we haven't gotten that far yet. "You see, I just wanted to carry my mom. I wanted to do that for her… and carry her for my dad, he would have wanted that."

I open my eyes briefly to see him watching me. I wipe away silent tears with the back of my hand and continue, "So, I tried, but with my hands, I couldn't support the weight. It… she… she sort of dipped for a second. It wasn't bad. I didn't drop her, but everyone in the church made this sound, and started to whisper. I just couldn't carry her. Someone pulled me away. I stood there and watched other people carrying my mom and dad away from me."

Dr. Sparrow silently watches me. I try to blow this off with a shrug. "Yeah, so, that's it. I think the music set off a little panic attack."

"I see."

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Yes. A little back story.

More soon,

Liz x