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Designed Intent

Chapter 32

Thursday Afternoon

Neither Bobby nor Dr. Stephens said anything after his outburst. Bobby was humiliated and ashamed of himself. Dr. Stephens made notes in her notebook, not looking at him while he calmed down. Bobby found himself standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest. He leaned into the corner, gently knocking his forehead against the wall. Dr. Stephens waited.

After nearly five silent minutes, Bobby turned, wiped both hands over his face and returned to his chair. Dr. Stephens set down her pen and looked at him. He didn't make eye contact. "You say you paid this woman. Why did you pay her?"

He said nothing at first, then he slid back in the chair, slouching with his arms on the table and he said softly, "Because it doesn't count if you pay for it."

Dr. Stephens looked at him, not sure she was following him, "What do you mean?"

"If you pay for sex, it doesn't mean anything; it's just sex."

Dr. Stephens still wasn't sure what he meant. Actually, he sounded like a kid, explaining something to an adult. "Detective, explain this to me." She sat forward, genuinely interested and somewhat bemused.

"It's what I said, if you pay someone for sex, it doesn't mean anything. I paid her, so I didn't really cheat on Gleason."

The psychiatrist was astounded, "Do you believe this?"

Bobby stood again, and spoke barely above a whisper, "My father told us that, Frank and me. He said that sometimes a woman couldn't, or wouldn't, give a man all that he wanted or needed, so a man had to do right by himself and pay for what he wants or needs. He was talking about our mother; after she got sick, almost every night Dad would come home smelling of booze and other women. I don't know what it did to my mother; I don't even know if she knew, she was so out of it so much of the time."

This new bit of insight into Bobby's family was fascinating. "We've talked about your father before. Do you think your father loved your mother, you and your brother?" This was a detour Dr. Stephens wasn't sure she wanted to take. However, she could see where any talk of his father, any analysis of his father's actions, might lead Bobby to consider a possible root for his own actions. She wanted to talk more about his brother as well.

"I don't want to talk about him. He was a lousy husband and shitty father."

"So you've said; but do you think he loved his family?"

"Why are we talking about him? I thought we were here to discuss my drinking, carousing and temper."

"Did your father love you?"

Bobby was on his feet, "Yes! Before she got really bad, we were like a normal family. He came home every night; we did things. I was little, but I remember it; it was good. Then, then when Mom starting manifesting, everyone was afraid, quiet, no one knew what to do or think; so the four of us each went to our separate corners and hid."

"So, everything was fine until your mother's illness set in? Why did your parents divorce?"

"Are you kidding me? Doctor, this is wasting your time and mine." He was ready to leave.

"Tell me, why did they ultimately divorce?"

"Jesus Christ! My mother was schizophrenic not taking her meds, she was out of her mind, my father was overwhelmed and frustrated, powerless, my brother was a hoodlum – wouldn't you walk away from that?" He was shouting. "Why are we even talking about this?"

"After your mother began to have hallucinations and the family began to disintegrate, do you think your father wanted things to be the way they were before?"

He spun and looked at her and didn't respond right away. He saw where she was going. He wiped his hands over his face and then crossed his arms. The room boomed with silence. Finally, softly, he said, "My sleeping with that woman is my reaction to my fear that Gleason and I will never have what we had before. Just like my father slept around on my mother because he knew nothing would ever be like it was before."

Dr. Stephens watched him process the truth as it unfolded before him.

"I am just like my father. Dear God, I am like my father."

"This realization may help you change. Your awareness will help you rethink your choices. This is a big step, Detective."

Bobby had stopped listening to her. He felt sick to his stomach. "Look, I, I hate myself for so many reasons right now. It didn't mean anything. I'm in love with Gleason and I've ruined it between us. When I fucked that woman last night, when I, when. . ." He shuddered a huge sigh and put up his hands again, shaking his head.

Dr. Stephens waited, watching him struggle.

Bobby turned and said, "I can't do this anymore. Please, we have to stop." He looked at his shrink with pain that worsened his exhausted, hung-over face.

Dr. Stephens knew they would go no further if he didn't take a break. "Ok, let's take a breather. Go get some coffee, use the restroom, whatever; I'm going to speak with your Captain. Let's meet back here in fifteen minutes, ok?"

Bobby nodded and stood, opening the door for Dr. Stephens and following her through. They walked to the bullpen in silence.

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Gleason finished changing the sheets on the bed and headed back to campus for her last Tuesday/Thursday class of the day. She couldn't find a parking spot in the close lot and so had to park at the far end of the general lot. It was further away, she was running late and still had to stop by her office to pick up the graded assignment she wanted to return. Gleason was afraid to hurry as she didn't trust her heart. She walked as fast as she dare and got to her office ten minutes before her class started.

"Dr. Wintermantle, Dr. Conway was here to see you. He left something on your desk," Imogene, the student assistant said with a knowing smile. Gleason nodded and kept moving. Once in her office, she dropped her bag on the chair beside the door and went around to her desk. A plain white envelope with an uppercase "G" on the front sat on top.

She was in a rush to class, but she sat and opened the envelope, slid out the sheet and read, "Dear Heart. . ."

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Deakins saw Dr. Stephens come around the corner with Bobby and watched them separate, Bobby heading toward the restrooms and Dr. Stephens toward his office. "Dr. Stephens, how is it going?" They entered his office and Deakins closed the door, showing the psychiatrist to a chair, taking the one beside hers.

"Detective Goren is in a lot of pain."

"Anything you can tell me?"

"Not really, but perhaps you can fill in some gaps for me." Deakins nodded and the doctor continued. "How has his work been? I know you said his partner said he's 'holding his own' but really, how has his work been?"

"Aside from being late these past four mornings, he's been the same. He's had no trouble with temper on the job anymore, as far as I know. He seems preoccupied, and he's quiet, well, more so than usual; other than that, nothing."

"That helps. I should be getting back; I told him we'd reconvene in fifteen minutes." The pair stood and Dr. Stephens turned, but stopped and said, "Oh, one more thing – he's going to probably need to leave when we are done. We're getting into some very serious issues and it will take a toll. It's not a problem if he heads out afterward, is it?"

"Of course not. I want him well; for lots of reasons." Deakins hesitated and Dr. Stephens knew there was something else. "Tell me, will he ever be back to where he was?"

The psychiatrist had to answer honestly, "I'm not sure, Captain. Detective Goren is an extremely complicated individual. His high intellect and emotional vulnerability make the world cumbersome for him. He feels things much more deeply than the rest of us. He sees things, possibilities, that don't occur to us. It is not easy being Robert Goren."

This was no news to Deakins. "Thank you, Doctor. Let me know what I can do."

Bobby was returning from the restroom as Dr. Stephens left Deakins' office.

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Gleason read the note and sat for a minute, not knowing what to think. Malcolm's note had said more than she wanted to know right now. Oh, my. She gathered the stack of papers to return and set off for her class. She walked slowly, deep in thought, not caring that she was going to be late.

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Eames had gone to the pawnshop to retrieve the security tape and talk with the owner/manager, "Thanks for the tape. We'll be in touch depending on what it shows. We may need you to meet with a sketch artist." Eames took the tape and headed back to her vehicle.

She saw that Bobby wasn't at his desk when she returned. She was getting tired of his drama, much like Deakins was. She took the tape and went into the tech room; she hated this part of the job, she didn't like to watch. Bobby loved it and she wished he were here now to do it. However, she wanted to get a face if she could, so she slid in the tape and fast-forwarded it to the last three hours.

"Get anything?" Deakins asked coming up behind her.

"Nothing yet, this shouldn't take too long, though, the owner pulled the tape right away." They stood and watched in silence and then Eames asked softly, "Anything new with Bobby?"

"Dr. Stephens can't share anything. I guess he's a mess. They're in for round two. He's heading home when they are done."

Eames was steamed and figured what the hell, "You know, Captain, I hope he gets his shit together soon. I'm sorry he's unhappy and all, but we all have our disappointments in life. I'm going to be honest with you; I'm getting tired of carrying him. Every time he and Gleason have a fight, he dissolves like a sugar cube. Since when do we make provisions like this, bringing his shrink into the office for an on-the-clock session?" She stopped because anything else she would say was only going to get worse.

Her ire surprised Deakins. He understood completely how Bobby's sensitivities were difficult to live with at times. He was fully aware that Eames did a disproportionate amount of the work when Bobby got bad. Nevertheless, Deakins had thought that Eames was reconciled to her partner's idiosyncrasies. "Alex, I'm sorry these cases have fallen to you. As to the provision for his session with Dr. Stephens today, this happens more often than people realize. Certain circumstances warrant certain levels of assistance. A lot goes on behind the scenes."

Eames knew this to be true. She was just frustrated by Bobby's weaknesses. She wanted him to be well. She missed him.

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"Are you ok?" Dr. Stephens asked.

"I want to be finished here. What else do you want to talk about?" Bobby was resigned to his misery.

"You can leave and go home, when we are done here. What will you do?"

Bobby knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to get drunk again. He wanted to drink through the weekend and then call off all of next week. He wanted to fly to Chicago and beg Gleason to take him back. He wanted it like it was before. But he said none of this.

"I don't know."

"Will you get drunk?"

"Probably."

"Besides that, what would you do? What would be Plan B?"

Bobby knew exactly what that would be but he would never say it out loud.