81
Aligned Design
Chapter 18
Wednesday
"How was this past week?" Dr. Stephens asked Bobby.
"I, uh, I surprised Gleason in Evanston."
"You did? How romantic! Was she surprised?"
Bobby was quiet for a long moment. Dr. Stephens watched him closely. She saw him struggle, deciding whether to tell, how much to tell. She knew he would tell it all, he was desperate for help.
Bobby stood and went to the bookcases, his safe island amid the rough seas of his emotions. "A colleague of hers was there. Malcolm Conway. They were working on an article. She had made sandwiches and wine glasses were set out. I, I . . . I saw him kiss her." He said all of this so softly, sadly.
Dr. Stephens was surprised at this. She said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
"Conway left and then we, we fought terribly. She thought I was going to strike her. Oh, God, it was awful." He put his head in his hands. "We made up and then I accused her of sleeping with him. I know she would not do that. I knew it, but I had to ask her anyway. Why?" Bobby turned and faced the doctor. "Why do I do that? Dr. Stephens, we fight every time we're together after being apart. I hate this. Why do we fight? I always cause the problems. Why? What's wrong with me?"
The psychiatrist wasn't sure how to reply. Finally, she asked, "Do you trust Gleason?"
"I want to trust her. I trust her. I have to trust her. I love her, so I trust her." He said all of this looking at the floor, almost to himself.
"What does Gleason say about this Malcolm fellow?"
"That son of a bitch will not leave her alone. He's always sniffing around her. She says he's just a colleague. I knew he was interested in her the first time I met him. I could see it in him. Smirking bastard."
"So, you trust Gleason, but you don't trust Malcolm. Is that it?"
"Yes! Exactly. He is the source of our trouble. I overreact when they do anything together and then we fight about it."
"Do they do a lot together?"
"I asked her about that. He's sent her flowers. Flowers! What business does he have sending her flowers? Jesus. He's always asking her to dinner and breakfast."
"Does she accept these invitations?"
"Only once." Bobby told Dr. Stephens about the concert and dinner afterward and then the breakfast invitation the next morning.
"Detective, you say your fights are horrible. How so?"
Oh, he did not want to get into details. He was ashamed of his behaviour. Bobby returned to his chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers laced. "I yell at her, I lose control. I say terrible things. She's afraid of me. She cries. It's awful. I hate myself. I hate myself." His hands went to his face.
"Do you get physical with her?"
"No! No, I've never raised a hand to her. I've, oh God, I've grabbed her, but I've never struck her. I won't ever strike her. No."
"You said she is afraid of you. How do you know that she's afraid?"
Bobby was miserable reliving all that he had done. "She cowered from me, she said 'don't hit me, don't hit me.' She backed away from me, she told me to stay away from her." Bobby slouched back in his chair, his left elbow on the arm, his fingers covering his mouth.
Dr. Stephens let this ride in the air. "Do you make up after these fights?"
Bobby nodded.
"How do you make up? Who makes the first attempt?"
Bobby straightened up. "I always apologize. It's always my fault. I'm so sorry after I explode. I just want to be with her, love her. I just want her and I want her to want me. Living apart is killing me." He was afraid he was going to cry.
"Does Gleason accept your apology?"
Bobby waited, thinking. "Gleason loves me. She always accepts my apologies. She's a better person than I am."
"What happens after you make up?"
Bobby's head tilted to the left and he said softly, "We make love."
Dr. Stephens hated this next part. It was necessary, however as it determined the link between the physical and emotional aspects of their relationship. "Detective, I have to ask this, please understand." Bobby looked over at the doctor. "What is the sex like?"
Bobby's face darkened. "How do you mean?"
"Is the sex giving or demanding?" Dr. Stephens looked at her notepad as she asked this.
Bobby stood again, put his hands in his pockets and walked to the bookcases. "The sex is incredible. It is loving and giving." He turned and looked at her and she met his eyes, "Is that what you want to know?"
"Yes, Detective, thank you." The silence hung between them. Bobby turned to look at the books lining the shelves. Dr. Stephens made a few notes. Finally, she said, "Detective I want you to think about something." Bobby turned again and faced her. "Would you and Gleason consider couple's counseling?"
Bobby stood still and thought about it. Oh, yes. "Yes, I, I would like that. Very much."
"What about Gleason? Would she agree to this?"
Bobby was not sure about this. Gleason was obsessively private. He knew they needed this. He needed this. He would see what she thought. "I'm not sure. I'll talk with her about it."
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Wednesday Night
"Honey, I, I want to ask you to think about something."
"What Love?"
"Gleason, I, I want us to go to couple's counseling." He said it; he said it.
She was not sure she understood, "You want us to do what?"
"Couple's counseling. With Dr. Stephens. It would, Honey, I think it would help us."
Now Gleason understood – he wanted them to go and talk with his psychiatrist. "Bobby, why? What would happen if we went?"
"Honey, we fight. We fight all the time. I, I don't want to fight with you. I love you; I want us to be happy."
She had trouble following him. "You want us to go and talk with Dr. Stephens about that? Oh, Bobby, I don't know."
"Just think about it Gleason, please, just think about it."
Gleason wondered what Bobby had told Dr. Stephens. "Why are you asking me this now? What did you say to Dr. Stephens? Bobby do you talk about me with her?"
He heard the anxiety in her voice. "Honey –,"
"Bobby what did you tell her? I didn't know you talked about me. What did you tell her? You shouldn't talk about me, Bobby. Do you think I'm causing your temper problems?"
"Gleason, calm down. Dr. Stephens and I talk about a lot of things."
"But you talk about me, too, don't you? What have you told her?"
This was not going the way he had hoped. "Honey, forget it. Gleason, I don't want to upset you. Please let's just forget I said anything."
Gleason could not believe he talked with his psychiatrist about her. What has he told her, she wondered. "Bobby, tell me what you have told her."
His gut burned. A headache began behind his eyes. "Gleason. . ." he said softly.
"Do you talk about what we do in bed? Do you?" Gleason swung between anger and fear. "What have you told her, Bobby?"
Bobby exploded, "Jesus Christ! Forget I said anything. I am sorry I brought it up, Gleason. Just forget it. Ok? Forget it. Christ Almighty!"
Neither said anything for a long minute. Then Gleason said softly, "I'm sorry I pushed you, Bobby. I know you want this to help us. I'll go." Gleason did not want to go. She mistrusted most doctors, even though every one she had seen had saved her life in one way or another. She didn't know a lot about psychiatrists, and was skeptical about their ability to help, especially since the first go with Bobby's shrink didn't seem to work. She couldn't understand why he would return to the same doctor who couldn't help him the first time around. And now he wanted them to go together?
"I don't want you to do this if you don't want to, Gleason."
"If it will help you, us, I'll go. When?"
Bobby thought; she's doing this for me. She loves me and is doing this for me. "Honey, thank you. I'll, I'll call and get us an appointment for a weekend when you are home. Maybe this weekend? I'll let you know. Thank you, Sweetheart."
The rest of their conversation was subdued; they spoke of inconsequential things. Thirty minutes later, they said goodbye and each prepared for bed. Bobby lay wondering what they would talk about with Dr. Stephens. He prayed this would help them. He loved her so much.
Gleason lay wondering what Bobby had told Dr. Stephens. She did not want to do this. Gleason was very uncomfortable discussing her life. She was excessively private. She did not want to do this, but she would. She loved him so much.