"She'd always tell me I was a good kid and that I was sweet," Steve said. "She liked to kiss me on my head or my cheek. I always tried to pull away, especially after... Well, after she started showing up in my room at night."
"You mean after you started sexually abusing you?" Laura asked.
"Yeah." Steve nodded, keeping his voice quiet. "When she would start touching me in my bed, she'd get so close. I would close my eyes and try to pretend nothing was happening."
Laura watched Steve, just listening.
"Her hands were always so cold. I remember shivering." Steve shook his head. "I hated when she'd touch me like that, but I also hated the kisses and her calling me Stevie any time. Only people close to me ever call me that."
"She created the appearance of harmless physical affection to stop any suspicions others could've had, and in the context of the abuse, it confused you. It made you feel even more conflicted."
Steve squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his head. "Sure did," he said, opening his eyes again. "I hate remembering that, but one of the worst things is the time I said something to my dad about wishing Clara would go back to her own house. That night, she was angry, and..." Steve turned his head to look outside, away from Laura's steady gaze. "And I never said anything like that again."
"When you refer to 'that night,' do you mean when she came into your room and sexually abused you?"
"Yeah." Steve spoke in a whisper, still staring out the window at the bright afternoon sun.
"Do you need to stop, Steve?" Laura tilted her head and studied him, seeing his shaking hands.
"No. I-I want to keep going." Steve swallowed, trying to steady himself.
"Okay."
"One time, Clara threatened to tell my dad what was happening. I mean, about the abuse. I didn't want her to do that."
"Why is that?" Laura kept her voice soft.
"I didn't want my dad to be mad or blame me."
"Now, do you think he would've been angry at you or blamed you?"
"No. Not anymore. I guess he would've only been mad at her. When he did find out that night I told you about, he definitely blamed her. Looking back, I can see that now."
"Good. But it was different as a kid, right?"
"Yeah. I felt bad. Really, I still do. I'd tell her to please stop and go away. I'd promise I wouldn't tell anyone. That didn't work." Steve took a deep breath, looking down at his lap.
"Did you think you were supposed to be able to stop her abuse?"
Steve shrugged. "I guess so. I'd get so scared at night, and I'd always hope she wouldn't come back. Thinking about that now makes me wonder what would've happened if I'd just decided to tell my dad."
"You were in no position to know the best thing to do, Steve. From what you've told me, you couldn't see a way out of the abuse."
"No, I really couldn't. I guess she wanted it that way."
"I want you to know that children who are abused have many conflicting thoughts and feelings that can be very confusing. You aren't alone in that, and though everyone responds differently, there are some commonalities."
"Like what?"
"Often, we see an ever present feeling of shame and a nagging guilt that are hard to make sense of, probably because children are so vulnerable to the manipulative actions of an abuser. Yet, they don't have the capacity to understand it."
Steve fidgeted under Laura's steady, but compassionate, gaze. "Sounds like me," he said, not looking up.
"Children will wonder why the abuse happened and question their own reactions or motives, especially in the case of sexual abuse. Just like you mentioned, it's common for a child to believe they should've been able to stop it and even wonder if they caused it to keep happening."
Steve flinched at Laura's last words. "I get all of that. I've felt ashamed, guilty, scared, confused..." He trailed off. "Angry too."
"That's common, as well. Angry at who?" Laura leaned forward, attempting to catch Steve's eye.
"Myself. My dad. Clara too. At the whole situation. Honestly, I think I've been more angry recently than I was back then." Steve looked up at Laura. "I'm not sure what would've happened if I hadn't had anyone around to help with that."
"I'm so glad you have the support of family and friends. I can't tell you how valuable that is."
"Yeah." Steve nodded his head. "I see that. It makes me feel sick to think of what I might have done without them, especially my dad and Soda. After my dad and me got all that stuff out in the open, man...he's been great. Can't say I ever would've seen that coming either." Steve felt his lips tilt upward in a smile, despite the nature of the conversation.
Laura smiled back, before continuing the discussion. "I know it's going to be overwhelming for you to think about, but I would like for you to go back to those moments you mentioned earlier. I think, if you look at what you thought and felt when you were a child, you'll be able to connect that to now and gain some insight into exactly where the emotions you are still experiencing have their roots."
"I think I can already do that with some of it. Even though I haven't wanted to, really. With the flashbacks, I have gone back more than I cared to at all."
"The flashbacks are very intense for you, from what you've said, but I'm going to chance a guess that those memories are the ones that matter most for your current state of mind."
"That's just great," Steve said, covering his face. "I still see and hear it and now, I need to figure it out?"
"It won't be something that happens all at once, but I think you've already started the process. Take small steps." Laura turned to her desk and opened a drawer. "I'm going to give you this." She held up a small silver and gold striped notebook.
"You want me to write down my feelings, don't you?"
Laura handed Steve the notebook. "Your feelings, thoughts, memories, whatever comes to you. Then, you can share them only if you want to. You certainly don't have to."
Steve stared at the notebook, noticing the metallic shine of the stripes that made it resemble a mirror, then he set it in his lap. "Okay. I think. I've never...I mean, I've never done that before."
"It can help sometimes to put things down on paper. And I know there may be certain thoughts and emotions, both past and present, that you may not be comfortable talking about. Maybe even particular details in memories too." Laura gestured to the notebook. "That will give all of those a different and more private place to be expressed."
"Are you all right?" Nicholas asked, eyeing Steve, as he drove.
Steve shook his head, holding his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick," he said.
"You going to make it home, or should I pull over?"
Steve felt another wave of nausea, as the car continued to move. "Pull over."
Nicholas made a right turn, stopping the car in the back of a parking lot, just as Steve managed to push open the door and start throwing up.
Nicholas waited, cringing at the sounds he heard. He saw Steve lean against the car seat, as sweat beaded on his forehead. "Any better, Son?" he asked, leaning toward Steve and resting a hand on his back.
"A little. Not so nauseous now. Just-" Steve held his head in his hands. "Just dizzy."
"We'll stay here a few minutes. Just try to relax."
"Okay."
After a few moments, Steve turned to look at Nicholas. "I didn't expect to get sick like that, but some of what we talked about today was real tough."
Nicholas sighed. "You're overwhelmed. Think you can make it home now?"
"Yeah, I think so." Steve closed the car door and glanced at the notebook he'd placed beside him.
"Laura give you that to write in?"
"Yeah. I'm not too sure about it, but I'll give it a shot."
Steve hadn't told Laura this, but she was absolutely right that there were certain details, thoughts, and emotions he didn't want to tell her about. After she'd given him the notebook, Laura told Steve more about how she suspected that the shame he'd been carrying around all this time was linked to specific moments when Clara had been abusing him.
Steve agreed with her because that sense of shame had wrapped itself around him, like it was a cloak of victim hood. This shame and the fear he experienced seemed to have marched forward in time with him and had simply lie in wait, ready to strike when Steve became vulnerable to the inner conflict triggered by memories that he had wanted to banish from his mind.
Steve had first begun to feel the pangs of a stomach ache when Laura had told him to always remember that there were no wrong thoughts or reactions. Any emotions or thoughts he'd had were okay and simply part of trying to survive a terrible series of traumatic experiences. She reminded him he had been a child attempting to cope with sexual abuse, further complicated by Clara's death and Nicholas' refusal to allow himself or Steve to confront the truth of the abuse.
The session had been just about over when Laura had paused, noticing that Steve was breathing heavily and had his hand on his stomach. Steve had told her he was just overwhelmed by everything, and she'd given him more reassurances. He had stood up, holding the notebook in his hand, as they said they're goodbye's.
Now, in the car with his dad, Steve picked up the metallic covered notebook again and flipped through the blank pages. Maybe this will be useful, he thought, if I can bring myself to write down what my mind has never wanted to let me face.
"Soda, this is rummy, not poker! It won't help you to hide an ace in your shoe, man!" Steve said, as he laughed.
"What?" Soda asked. "There's no card in my-"
"Sure about that?" Nicholas asked, as he leaned down and pull the ace from inside the sock on Soda's left foot.
"Oh. That." Soda said, shrugging.
"In this game, you want to get rid of cards like that, not store them away for later. Believe me, Steve here got reminded of that the other night," Nicholas said, nodding his head toward his son.
Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "Keep bragging."
"I'm not bragging. Just being honest," Nicholas said, also smiling, as he started to gather the cards.
"Sure you are," Steve said.
"Let me shuffle," Soda said, reaching for the deck.
"Get ready to play 52 pick-up, Dad," Steve said, nudging Nicholas, as Soda started to shuffle.
"Hey! I can shuffle just fine!" Soda insisted.
"Just messin' with you, man," Steve added, punching Soda's arm.
"I know. I know," Soda said, shooting him a grin, as he kept shuffling the deck. "You two are fun to watch. You know that?"
Steve shared a look with Nicholas, as Soda started dealing and they both picked up the cards they'd already received. Soda finished the deal and set the remainder of the deck in the middle of the table, then picked up his own hand. Steve drew a card and was examining the rest of the of his hand when his dad laid down his cards.
"I'm going to go grab a drink," Nicholas said, as he got up and walked over to the refrigerator.
Steve looked up from the plays he had just laid down, seeing Soda trying to slip a card into his shirt pocket. "Soda!" he yelled.
"What?" Soda asked. "It's a Jack, not an ace, and this isn't my shoe!"
Steve settled himself on the porch swing. He'd sure had fun tonight with both his dad and Soda. He had hardly quit laughing. Yet, the discussion in his session with Laura and the feeling of panic that had threatened to engulf him earlier were coming back to him now. Steve held the notebook she had given him and a pencil. He saw the moonlight shining on the metallic cover, then turned to look at the sky. He felt the swing sway slightly, as he moved again to get more comfortable.
Steve finally opened the notebook and stared at the blank first page. He tapped the pencil on the swing seat, then sighed. "There's a reason I've never done this before," he mumbled.
Steve put the pencil down and closed the notebook, setting it down next to him. "Maybe I should try again when I'm calmer than this," he said, as he curled up on the swing, turning sideways to face the front yard, and lay his head down. Steve gripped the arm rest on the swing, taking a deep breath, willing the rising anxiety and ache of shame to stop preying on him.
