22
Designed Intent
Chapter 5
Wednesday
"Good morning, Detective."
"Good morning," he replied as they both settled.
"How have you been?"
"Ok; no blow-ups. Uhm, Gleason is living in Evanston now. I went up with her for the weekend, to make sure she was settled in and all."
"How's it been, these past two days?"
Bobby was quiet a moment. "Busy. For both of us. Her class load is huge, she'll be very busy."
"And that isn't necessarily a bad thing, is it?" Dr. Stephens asked with a slight smile.
Bobby glanced at his psychiatrist and returned the smile, "No, it isn't, actually."
"You said you both were busy. What have you been up to?"
Bobby told Dr. Stephens about the standoff on Monday and the near miss. She listened with studied amazement. "You are very lucky. Why do you think you weren't hit?"
"Because the old guy couldn't hold his arm steady, he was tired and his aim was off," Bobby replied, not sure where the doctor was going.
"I understand that; but, why do you think you weren't hit? Why do you think that whole scenario turned out the way it did; why that way, and not the alternative?"
Then Bobby understood. He thought a moment and then answered, "It wasn't my time, I guess."
"Ok, why do you think it wasn't your time?"
His brow furrowed in thought and then said, "I don't know. We don't know about these things. It's God's will, I guess. Maybe He isn't done with me yet. Why are you asking me this?"
Dr. Stephens wanted to gauge where Bobby was in his faith. "I'm just curious about your take on these kinds of things. Let's move on. What did Gleason say about your near-miss?"
Bobby sat back and wiped his eyes with the fingers of his right hand. "Uh, I, I didn't tell her." Dr. Stephens watched him. "I didn't, I didn't want her to worry. She's got plenty on her plate already; she doesn't need to worry about me getting hurt." Bobby considered what he had just said and then nodded to himself. He glanced over at the psychiatrist, waiting for her comment.
"Why are you keeping secrets from her?"
"I don't think this qualifies as a secret, Dr. Shepherd. Secrets deceive; I'm protecting her, not deceiving her. The difference concerns intent."
"Very good, Detective; are you trying to convince me or yourself?"
"What?" Bobby felt the tremor of anger begin. "What do you mean? Are you saying that I am trying to deceive Gleason? Why would I do that? I want her to trust me with anything, everything." He was on his feet, struggling not to lose it. Dr. Stephens watched him.
Finally, Bobby returned to his seat. He sat forward, elbows on his knees, with his hands tented in front of his lips. He took a deep breath and sat back, right ankle over his left thigh. "Am I deceiving her?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. What do you think?"
He thought for a moment and then said, "Why, why would I deceive her? What good would it do? I want us to trust each other, especially now."
"What do you mean, 'especially now'?"
"Now. Now that we're living apart. I want her to be safe, to not worry, to be happy, to, to . . . you know. I want to take care of her. But I can't because she's hundreds of miles away. I can't keep her safe. I can't protect her. I couldn't keep her safe here; she was shot. I, I can't. . ." Bobby was on his feet again, his left hand ran down the back of his neck and his arm pushed out beside his head. "I can't keep her safe. I can't. I have to, I have to. She has no one else. I, I. . ."
"Detective?" Bobby ignored her or didn't hear her. He was just realizing, on a conscious level, how vulnerable Gleason was. And how powerless he was to protect her.
"Detective, come sit down, please." Bobby turned and looked at the doctor. "Please, sit down." Bobby returned to his chair and sat.
They sat quietly for a few minutes and then Dr. Stephens asked, "Are you alright?"
He nodded. "What were you feeling?"
He sat with his hands over his face. "Uh, I just realized I cannot keep her safe. I am powerless to save her. She needs me. I have to take care of her."
"Why do you say you 'have to save her'? Save her from what?"
"From everything. Jesus Christ, I couldn't keep her from getting shot, almost dying, and she was right here. How can I keep her safe in Chicago?"
"Detective, we've gone through her shooting. You know it was not your fault. Why are you going back to that? What's happened to make to you worry so? Is it the near-miss?"
Bobby didn't want to admit it, but the near-miss had frightened him. He knew how lucky he had been. That single event made perfectly clear the level of responsibility he bore. His mother was totally dependent on him for everything. He made all of her medical decisions, spoke with her psychiatrist, looked after her every want, and need. His brother was not a factor in their mother's life any more. Now he had Gleason to care for as well.
He couldn't respond right away. His mind swirled with everything. Suddenly, Bobby stood up and announced, "I need to leave. I, I can't talk about this anymore. I have to go."
"Where are you going?"
"To work." He didn't tell her he was going to call Gleason and then go to work. He moved toward the door.
"Detective, sit down."
"I'm sorry, I really need to go."
"You are frightened and overwhelmed. We need to talk about how you feel. Please sit down." Bobby stopped and looked at the clock, he really wanted to call Gleason, but saw that she would be in class. His mother would be asleep. He sat.
"Detective, what you are feeling is perfectly normal. It is a reaction to Gleason moving to Evanston. This is evidence of your love for her. You want to cocoon her in your love, build a shield around her, and protect her from the world. At some point, however, it stops being love and becomes possession. She will suffocate. And you know what she'll do then."
Bobby considered all that Dr. Stephens said. He knew she was right. "I love her so much," he said softly. "I love her."
Dr. Stephens looked at him, "Then love her; and let her be. Have faith in her ability to survive, she's done well enough to this point. Have faith in your love for her. You need to have faith, Detective." Bobby looked back at the doctor and nodded.