Please note that I am NOT a professional, licensed, or any other type of certified councilor. I have written a therapy session as I imagined it, based on my own limited knowledge and personal experience. This is only my imagination, but it has been written with love, sensitivity and care. I hope that will come through as you read.
For me, this chapter will never be satisfactory. But I remain committed to finishing this story for all of you dedicated readers. As always, thank you for joining me on this journey. Please continue to the next chapter for the conclusion of the therapy session and some much earned happiness. You won't be disappointed ;)
On this particular morning, the family of three had left Main a little after seven to ensure that they would have enough time to locate the office of Emma's new therapist prior to her ten o'clock appointment.
Being the rational one, Regina notes that they should always leave themselves more time in the morning, because, upon reaching the city, they discovered just how challenging it is to find a parking-spot. To the younger woman's great relief, they ended up having to walk the last few remaining blocks before reaching their destination. She was not eager to begin what, she expects, will prove to be one of the most excruciating hours of her life. Fortunately her growing apprehension is weakened when an innocent voice inquires,
"Is this Henry's house?"
Crouching down to her daughter's level, Regina clarifies the situation for her curious child. "Henry lives in New York, sweetie. We're in Boston now."
The little girl is adamant. "When can I see Henry?"
"We're going to see Henry in a few weeks and then he'll be coming home to our house for Thanksgiving." The brunette woman lifts the little girl into her arms before continuing, "Mommy has to see the doctor this morning." "This is where her doctor works," she indicates, pointing to the building in front of them.
Charlie remains perplexed. "Is this a hospital?"
The ever patient mother is determined to illuminate the facts for her discerning child. "No, sweetheart, this isn't a hospital. Mommy has to see a very special doctor, called a therapist."
"What's a ther-pist?"
Emma intercedes, "Well, a therapist is someone I can talk to, so I won't be sad anymore."
Regina shifts the squirming child in her arms in order to meet her lover's gaze. "Are you sure you don't want me to go up with you?"
Emma fidgets uncomfortably, doing her best to mask the anxiety creeping toward her fingertips. "No. I'm okay. You guys should do something fun."
"Everything's going to be alright," the older woman assures, inching closer to her anxious fiancée.
Emma nods, averting her eyes. "I know."
Hoping to boost the younger woman's morale Regina adds, "Archie seemed very confident when he recommended her."
"I trust Archie." Emma positively replies, attempting to be discrete about wiping her sweating palms on the fronts of her jeans. "I'm just grateful he did all of that research for me. I couldn't have handled it."
"I'm glad she was able to fit you in so soon." Regina places a reassuring palm on the nervous woman's bicep. "She wants to help you."
The blonde woman nods. "I know you're right." If only she could be better now, Emma thinks, and didn't have to go through this process of rehashing what happened during the years that she would rather forget. She meets Regina's eyes, silently imploring the older woman.
Regina answers her lover's plea, "You'll feel better once you start talking to her. I promise."
The blonde woman nods again and in her desire for closeness embraces her queen.
Still resting on her brunette mother's hip, Charlie drapes a tiny arm around her other mother's shoulder.
If only she could stay like this for the rest of her life, Emma visualizes, surrounded by the warmth and love from her family. With renewed determination, she breaks the tender hug. She is prepared to fight for her freedom, the freedom to live her life fully with the people she loves and not let the pain from her past drag her down any longer. No more will she let herself be motivated by fear. Today she chooses love.
Once again Regina perceives the unspoken words exchanged between them. She holds the younger woman's gaze to ensure that her sincerity is understood.
"Call me if you need me. I'll come right back."
That was all Emma required to solidify her confidence and she offers her beloved an honest smile. "I'm okay, Regina."
"You know I worry."
Nervousness subsiding, Emma directs her attention to the little cherub in Regina's arms. Charlie had been so quiet that neither of her parents was aware of the little girl's growing anxiety.
"What's that pouty face?" the younger woman prompts.
"It's okay, sweetheart." Regina reminds, "We'll see Mommy soon."
"Come here, my baby," the blonde woman encourages, extending open arms. Emma holds her angel close to her chest as the little girl begins to sob. Becoming aware of her own nerves calming substantially, she begins evenly rocking her baby, as she soothes with her voice. In this moment, she accepts and welcomes the fact that she is and always will be a mother first. Caring for her children will always override her trepidation. She continues, speaking softly, "I'll see you in an hour. We'll do something fun when I get back, okay?"
The weeping angel nods as she attempts to wipe the tears from her eyes with the back of her arm.
"We can go to a museum," Emma suggests, "or the aquarium or take a ride on a duck."
The small child is unable to disguise the tiny giggle that escapes her at the mental image of her mother attempting to saddle a mallard.
Emma always did know how to get her girl to laugh.
"There's that beautiful smile," the young woman announces happily.
For the first time since lifting Charlie into her arms, Emma catches her fiancée's eyes, which are now glistening with un-shed tears. But the older woman's smile is evidence of the joy in her heart.
"You and Mommy are going to have a great time exploring. I think she might even try to get you both a ride on a Swan Boat. You're going to have so much fun." Emma reminds, with added enthusiasm.
Placing a soft hand on her little girl's back, Regina gently suggests, "We should let Mommy go. We don't want her to be late for her appointment."
Keeping her attention on her baby girl, Emma does her best to sound reassuring. "I wish I could go with you, but I have to see the therapist. She is going to help me get better, so I can enjoy time with my favorite people. That means you, kid, and Mommy and Henry." She places a tender kiss on her baby's forehead. "There is nothing to worry about."
Charlie falls against her mother, snuggling as close as possible and securing her arms around the blonde woman's neck. Automatically, Emma starts rocking her daughter again.
"I love you, baby," she proclaims. "I want you to have a great time with your mom."
The older woman gently requests, "Come here, sweetheart," as she lifts her angel-girl.
"That's my good girl," Emma heartens, "go to Mommy."
Regina uses her free hand to cradle her baby's tear-streaked face close to her lips and kisses her daughter repeatedly. To the brunette woman's delight, the tiny girl's face quickly transforms to an expression of utter joy because of the kisses tickling her ear.
With a heart full of love, Emma confirms, "I'll see you both soon."
The older woman extends her free hand before parting. "It's only an hour."
Unexpectedly, the younger woman's eyes fill with tears at the acceptance of the offered hand.
"I love you, Regina."
"I love you too."
The queen uses the bustling crowd to her advantage and captures the younger woman's lips in a tender kiss.
Though brief, the meaning behind that kiss sustains Emma as she makes her way inside the building and up to the appointed floor.
She had no sooner sat down in the near-deserted waiting room with a clipboard in her hand that a door opens, revealing a friendly-faced woman, possibly in her mid-forties, who seems especially interested in her. The petite woman extends a hand in greeting.
"Hi. Are you Emma?"
"Y-yes," Emma stammers.
The panicked blonde rises slowly to her feet for fear that her knees might buckle beneath her.
"I'm Wendy." Sensing Emma's agitation, the inviting woman inquires, "Are you ready?"
Emma hesitates before making the awkward confession, "I didn't have time to finish filling out my paperwork." What she means is, she had avoided filling out the dreaded forms for an entire week in hopes that she could finish them while in the waiting room, before her session. Unfortunately, she had not anticipated how much time they would require. She had expected therapy to drudge up a plethora of memories; however, showing up to class without having completed her homework assignment was not one of them.
"That's alright," the warm woman informs, instantly putting teenage Emma at ease. "I know there's a lot there." She gestures for Emma to follow her down a narrow hallway as she continues, "I'll ask you many of the same questions during our session today."
"Okay," Emma replies, before proceeding down the hall.
Upon reaching their destination that Emma assumes must be the older woman's office, she observes that the room appeared to be more like the scope of a house. It was lived in, cozy. Honestly when she had agreed to see this therapist her mind had spouted all sorts of different scenarios so she might be prepared for whatever she was getting into. She honestly pictured a rather cold, clinic setting. After all, she was basing her assumptions on her own limited experience as a frightened child and troubled teen.
The appearance of the workplace was unexpectedly serene. She didn't feel like a patient in those surroundings. And, if she is being honest with herself, she fully expected to see a small dog or cat wandering around the premise. But, she presumes, that's not generally allowed, due to the fact that some clients might have allergies. Emma never did understand those people. She has been an allergy sufferer her whole life, but has always welcomed the company of four-legged friends.
The therapist decides to usher the younger woman step-by-step through what she imagines might be an overwhelming process.
"Please make yourself comfortable. You can sit anywhere you like."
"Just not at your desk, right?" Emma explains her awkwardness, "Sorry, I say stupid things when I'm nervous."
Through years of experience working with women who have been victims of domestic violence and sexual assault, Wendy learned to be as accommodating as possible.
"It's not stupid at all. And if it would make you more comfortable you are more than welcome to sit at my desk."
The younger woman doesn't know what to make of the obliging offer. Did this woman think that she was being serious? Emma clarifies, "Oh, no, that's okay. I was only joking." She spots a small love-seat and decides to claim that as her spot. This way, she imagines, she could stretch out to maintain her status during what will probably be a difficult exchange. "This looks comfortable," she says, settling her weight on the furniture and shifting around so as to take up as much space as possible.
"Is this your first time in therapy?"
Emma abruptly stops shifting, her appearance similar to that of a dog that was caught nosing through the kitchen garbage. She should have remembered to keep the psychotic behavior to a minimum when in front of a mental-health expert. "No…" she draws out. Knock it off, Swan. She only wants to help you. She inhales a deep breath, attempting to center herself, before offering the excuse, "It's just been a long time." With that, she relaxes and folds her restless hands in her lap in order to quiet them. She is determined to be on her best behavior moving forward.
"Would you like something to drink?" Wendy rattles off the list of options, "Water, tea, juice…"
"No, thank you. I'm good." Emma adds, "My family and I stopped at a drive-thru on our way into the city this morning."
The older woman smiles warmly.
"So you have had breakfast."
"Yes."
This complete stranger's genuine concern for her overall well-being fills the younger woman with hope.
Emma remains mindful as she watches the other woman gather the clipboard with the incomplete paper work, a legal pad and a pen before settling into a stationary chair opposite her. The older woman begins,
"Since this is only our first session, I would like to use this time getting to know you."
"Yeah. That sounds good," Emma automatically replies.
She gives herself permission to relax when she realizes they won't be delving into anything deep today, or at least, that's what she projects. Unexpectedly, a new emotion rises to the surface. She identifies what feels like disappointment. How could she possibly be disappointed? After all, she had been dreading this appointment for the last week, knowing what she would have to talk about. However, she recognizes that in order to overcome what is holding her back she must talk about what happened.
"This also gives me an opportunity to finish completing your paperwork, so you don't have to worry about it," the older woman continues.
She's beginning to like Wendy even more, Emma thinks.
"That would be great," she responds, a little too enthusiastically.
Kind eyes encourage her.
"You may begin wherever you like."
Emma inhales another deep breath, exhaling on, "Okay." Her confidence returning, she begins, "I'm thirty-five. I have two children. One's seventeen and the other's three-and-a-half. She clarifies, "I got pregnant with my son when I was his age." She catches the older woman smiling fondly before she continues. "I gave birth while I was in prison and put my baby up for adoption." Though Emma directs her eyes anywhere other than her therapist's, she couldn't help noticing that this woman's attention was never once diverted, even with the paperwork in her hand. Emma continues, "He came back into my life seven years ago when he came to find me. And now I'm engaged to his mother." She suddenly becomes aware of the fact that she is smiling. "She's the love of my life and I really wish she was here right now."
"Would you like me to get her?"
"She's not in the waiting room," Emma regretfully informs.
There had been one other woman in there, but not Regina.
"She wanted to come with me, but our toddler would not have done well in a waiting room for over an hour."
"You said you and your partner have two children together?"
"Yes." The proud mother goes on to explain. "Henry's a student at NYU. It's a good thing that we'll be coming up here for my sessions. It will give us an excuse to go visit him more often." Her smile brightens. "It's a long drive from where we live, but his mother isn't going to be able to make it until Henry's Thanksgiving break. And Charlie adores her big brother. She's always asking us when she can see him again. For some reason she had convinced herself that we were seeing him today."
"Your daughter's name is Charlie?"
"Yeah." Perhaps, Emma thinks, it seems an odd name choice for a little girl. "I just liked that name."
"It's a beautiful name."
Unable to detect a hint of insincerity in the woman's tone, Emma agrees, "I think so."
"Is there anything else that I should know about your history before we get started?"
A wave of panic breaks over her. Get started? I thought we already started. What is there to start?
The mental-health expert elaborates, "If there is anything about your history that I should know before we get into the reason you decided to seek counseling…"
The young woman nods. "Well, I grew up in the foster system. That's pretty important. I've recently reunited with my parents, my birth parents. And…" She hesitates. "This is something I didn't want to talk about, but it's why I'm here." She closes her eyes, searching for the courage to say what she reveals next. "I left my, I can't say ex-husband yet, we're still technically married. But I left him." She adds, "Less than a month ago."
The older woman's tranquil demeanor shifts to one of seriousness. "I have to ask this question before we continue, especially because your children are minors."
Emma braces herself for the worst.
"Are you or your children currently living in an abusive environment?"
"No," Emma answers with certainty. "Charlie and I got out of that environment."
"Your son wasn't living with you?"
"He stayed with his mother when we split." Emma shifts nervously.
The experienced therapist is able to discern, without Emma voicing the more graphic details that this woman had endured abuse at the hands of the man she married. Wendy looks up from her pad, to meet Emma's eyes before asking the next question.
"Do you feel that you are in danger; that your abuser might come after you?"
It becomes clear that this woman has a great deal of experience with this type of thing.
"Not unless he has a death wish," Emma answers honestly and a little too casually. Evidently, her flat delivery may have been mistaken as a serious threat. She amends her previous statement. "My fiancée is very protective."
The older woman delivers her next question in the most tranquil tone. "Have you had any thoughts of suicide?"
Emma understands the severity of the question and thinks for a moment. She used to have those thoughts on daily basis, often throughout the span of the day. If only someone had asked her then. How long has it been since she's had those thoughts? Emma wonders. When did they go away? She answers truthfully, "Not anymore," hoping that the therapist will invite her to elaborate. Apparently, this is one of the dreadful feelings that she still needs to work through.
Sure enough, Emma notices, this perceptive woman is picking up what she's putting down.
"You had these thoughts previously?"
"I had thoughts," Emma admits, "but I would never act on them. I couldn't leave my baby."
The older woman smiles knowingly and approaches the next question, being particularly mindful about word choice.
"Did your husband," she begins, but pauses for clarification. "You said you're still married?"
"Technically," Emma deadpans. She remains ashamed to admit that she even married such a person. "But he's not the man I thought I married." Keeping her eyes trained on her lap, she seeks pardon. "Could we not refer to him as my husband?"
"Of course," the warm woman replies.
"Thank you." Emma raises her head confidently, ready to answer the next question.
"Did this man ever touch your child?"
Emma feels her body begin to vibrate and the rising bile burn her throat as she recalls that horrible day when the man in question went after her baby. "No," she croaks. Her knuckles turn to white. "He would've had to kill me first."
In an effort to ease her client's sudden agitation, the therapist leans forward and reassures with her voice, "I have no doubt that you did everything within your power to protect her." When she sees the younger woman start to calm, she guides their conversation toward a safer topic, while maintaining the close proximity. "How is she adjusting to being out of that environment?"
Having quieted substantially, the younger woman opens her eyes.
Registering the tears obscuring Emma's vision, Wendy reaches for a nearby box of tissues and offers them to her.
Plucking a tissue from the box, Emma expresses her relief, "She's so happy. It's as if she'd always been with her mother and brother." As she hears herself say the words, she pictures the smiling faces of her favorite people and grows more emotional. "And Regina's so great with her." The tears are flowing freely now. That didn't take long. When she was younger, Emma always imagined that counselors got some sadistic pleasure out of making their patients cry. Back then she had felt like a patient. After all, she was required to see a counselor, it wasn't her choice. That might explain the prejudice and un-trusting attitude she's held for so many years. But today this woman has shown her more compassion than she ever expected to receive from someone in her profession. She continues, "Charlie is the apple of her mother's eye. And her grandparents are already spoiling her. They decorated Charlie's room for her arrival, bought her a swing set and gave her two kittens, much to Regina's initial disapproval. But my fiancée couldn't say 'no' and welcomed the kittens into our home after seeing how happy they make our daughter. I can't imagine any kid could be more loved."
"And you made that possible."
It was completely unexpected. She wasn't looking for validation. But the fact that this woman recognizes the value of her role in her daughter's life is much appreciated. In her haste, she had completely failed to mention her own relationship with Charlie. But the perceptive woman had taken note of the unspoken details, derived from the way she talked about her baby girl.
"I hope so."
"How are you doing?"
The job of the therapist is to the keep their client on track. Up to this point Emma had managed to evade talking about her own feelings, but it is becoming increasingly clear that those feelings are clawing their way to the surface, demanding to be heard.
"I very rarely sleep through the night, I can't go a day without crying, for whatever reason, and I'm still so angry." Her voice trails off.
"That's a good place to start," Wendy encourages. "Tell me about the anger. What happens?"
"I'm not ready to talk about that yet," Emma protests. Just the fact that she finally admitted to the anger out loud was a huge step. Regina had witnessed the rage that day in Archie's office, because it had never fully dissipated. The only thing Emma knew to do was to keep it concealed as much as possible. Unfortunately, in her experience, she learned that it's impractical to keep that kind of thing hidden forever, especially from the people who love her most.
Identifying her client's distress, the older woman offers a different path for their conversation. "We can start somewhere else if you'd like."
"Yeah, I think that would be good," the already exhausted woman admits.
"Can you tell me a little bit more about your partner?"
She never expected a mental-health expert to invite her to talk openly about her favorite subject, the woman who is the source of her strength, her happiness, her constant companion, her everything.
"Regina." The younger woman brightens as that melodious name passes her lips.
"I sense that this person is a more pleasant topic."
Emma lets a relieved laugh escape her as she un-wads the wrinkled tissue in her hand. "I love her so much. She's my best-friend, the mother of my children, my confidante…" She discovered a while back that there are not enough words in the English vocabulary to describe what Regina means to her. She does her best, within the limits of speech. "She's the strongest person I know and the most incredible mother. There isn't anything she wouldn't do for our children. I swear she lives to see them happy."
"She sounds like a remarkable lady."
"She is." Emma confirms. "She's passionate, sensitive, though she hides it behind a tough exterior. She just does that to protect herself. But she has a good heart. She feels deeply. And her smile…" There she goes again, gushing about Regina, Emma thinks. But she chooses to ignore the voice of self-doubt and continues, "When I know that smile is for me, I think that maybe I am worthwhile." When she catches Wendy smiling, she hypothesizes the older woman's approval of such a positive person in her life.
"How long have you two been together?"
She is aware that there are a number of ways she could go about answering this question and considers a few of her options before responding. Obviously, she thinks, she should omit the detail about her son bringing her to a town that was created by her soon-to-be wife's curse. And she probably shouldn't mention that all the town's inhabitants are fairy tale characters and were living under the Queen's curse until she, herself, broke it.
She begins shakily, "Well, we met seven years ago when our son came to find me." For now, she decides, the less detail, the better. "Regina and I didn't get along initially. She felt threatened by me, thought I was going to try to take Henry away." Her voice grows weary, "She was right to worry. I did try to kidnap him when I disappeared four years ago. I was also pregnant with our daughter when I left."
"Were you engaged then?"
"No." She is suddenly numb. "We weren't even together."
Emma lifts her gaze from its fixed place on her lap. "We had broken up," she explains. Though her cheeks remain dry, she hears the tears in her own voice. "And Regina had just gotten engaged to someone else."
The older woman's tone is soft as she acknowledges, "That must've been very hard for you."
If she had doubted the mental-health professional's sincerity before now, at this point there is no doubt. She gets it, Emma thinks. Until now she hadn't realized what she had been searching for in a therapist. If she is going to pour out her heart for another person, her greatest desire is to be understood. And this woman gets her. She confirms what Wendy already knows to be true, "I felt like I was being ripped apart."
"Is that why you left?"
"Yes."
She wouldn't have had to respond, her therapist already knows the answer. But the younger woman decides to elaborate anyway. "I couldn't stay in the same town and watch her marry someone else, especially when I knew that I was carrying her child."
"Did she know about the baby?"
"No," Emma responds with assurance. She would never want anyone to judge Regina for something that wasn't her fault. "I didn't want her to be with me just because of the baby. So, I left without ever telling her."
It's clear that Wendy accepts that explanation, as she breathes a sigh of relief. She had definitely become a fan of Regina's just after listening to Emma talk about her. She was grateful not to have a reason to think less of her.
"Where did you go?"
"I had no idea where I was going, when I left. I just drove. I drove until I couldn't drive anymore. And I threw away my cell phone, because I didn't want anyone to find me. But even then I couldn't escape my heartbreak. I was so distraught that I didn't even notice how far I had gone until I ended up in New Jersey. Fortunately, I found myself in an adorable little town where I met the woman I call my other mother. She took pity on me when she found me living out of my car. She bought me a decent meal and invited me to stay with her. After my baby was born, she helped me take care of her. Sylvia never had any children of her own, so she kind-of adopted me. And to Charlie, she'll always be Grandma."
"Your other mother sounds like an amazing lady too."
Emma smiles fondly. "She is."
The older woman inhales a deep breath and averts her eyes as she asks the next question, steering the session back to the reason that her services were sought.
"When did you meet the man you married?"
Emma now comprehends that her therapist had been preparing her to return to the avoided subject during their session. She is only grateful that she didn't have to spend the whole hour on such an unpleasant topic.
"I was still pregnant with Charlie when we met. But we weren't dating that whole first year that I knew him. We were friends." It's a concept that seems so foreign to her now. They had actually been friends. "When we did start dating, it was good because I wasn't lonely. And he took to Charlie right away. He was actually really great with her. I think that's why I fell for him." She begins to weep and lifts a shaking hand to cover her mouth. This man whom she had grown to trust had betrayed her and harmed her the worst way possible. In her despair she hadn't even detected the box of tissues in front of her, let alone how they got there. Apparently, before the first tear was even shed, Wendy was at the ready.
Years of experience had taught the trained therapist to read her clients' body language. And at this moment Emma's body language is telling a tale of a woman racked with guilt. Because her responsibility to her client is to help this incredibly strong woman see the truth that she is not to blame for what someone else did to her, she gently guides Emma past all of the self-blame.
"When was the first time you realized he was dangerous?"
"Shortly after we started living together," she pauses to blow her nose before continuing, "he discovered that I was using birth control."
Emma's admission sends up an immediate red flag for the experienced professional. Now it is her job to help the younger woman see how this man was able to trap her.
"He didn't want you using birth control?"
"No," Emma weakly informs. "He wanted me to have another baby."
"Did he ever ask you how you felt?"
"No. My feelings didn't matter."
Emma's matter-of-fact delivery triggers another warning. This is how her ex was able to control her, by de-humanizing her. With this knowledge, the older woman decides to approach the next question with caution.
"How did he react to you using birth control?"
Inhaling a deep breath, Emma replies, "He confronted me. He told me that he wanted me to stop taking 'that shit.'" Only recently had she come to terms with the fact that she should have left the relationship at the first sign. She admits her defiance. "I don't respond well to being told what to do and I challenged him." The volume of her voice quickly dwindles. "After that, I wished I hadn't." With fists clenched she covers her eyes with her palms. "And things just got worse." She uncovers her eyes. "The rest of the time that we were together I practically walked on egg-shells around him."
"That's no way to live."
Emma voices her epiphany, "I wasn't living." "Day after day my only goal was to not upset him." She pauses, fighting the urge to break-down. "I wasn't always successful."
"Did you ever try to leave?"
"I did, once before, after he threatened to kill me." Her voice turns solemn, "Then he threatened to harm the people I love."
Though Wendy had heard this story man times, told by a number of women, it still baffles her to this day how someone could be capable of such cruelty. Emma's ex, knowing that he had already de-humanized her, attacked her where she was most vulnerable. She understands that it is crucial that Emma is able to draw these conclusions on her own and guides the conversation again.
"How?"
"He said that he would kill Sylvia, my other mother, if I tried to run away." She recalls the conversation that she had with Sylvia about her fear and being assured by her other mother that she could take care of herself. "And, he said that he would turn my child against me and that I'd never see her again." She had held it together pretty well, up to this point. Just the thought of almost losing Charlie is crippling. "I couldn't let him do that. I couldn't lose my baby," Emma wails.
"How were you finally able to get out of that situation?"
When the younger devastated woman doesn't answer, Wendy attempts to calm her first. Keeping her voice soft, she reminds, "Emma, you're not in that situation anymore. You got out. You're safe. Your family is safe. Your little girl is with you." The therapist adds, "And she's happy."
Emma smiles weakly and manages to nod her head.
"How did you finally get away?"
The younger woman's voice cracks as she answers, "Regina."
"Did you reach out to her?"
"She came to find me. She had been looking for me for years."
The older woman attempts to disguise her own tears. Normally, she would not let herself become emotionally involved with her clients, but she couldn't deny that she was truly touched by Emma's story.
"She's the reason I was finally able to leave him." Emma inhales another deep breath, having been restored by her love for the brunette woman. "But he wasn't going to let me go that easy. There was one point when I actually thought I might not live through that night."
"But you did."
"I did," Emma acknowledges.
"How long were you living in that environment?"
"About a year." Her voice is filled with regret.
"How did you survive?"
"I had to," she informs, as though it's simplest answer. "The only other option was ending my life," she adds with indifference. "I thought that would be the only way I'd ever get away from him, or when he finally killed me."
It becomes eerily clear that this woman had accepted her bleak ending a long time ago. Wendy watches the younger woman's posture change to reflect confidence.
"But, I couldn't leave Charlie. So I made the decision, each day, to live."
Wendy approaches the next question with reverence. "During that time, were you intimate with your husband?"
"Yes." Her response is void of emotion.
The therapist makes the painful observation that the only way that this woman was able to handle her feelings was to not feel and chooses the next question carefully.
"Was intercourse ever painful?"
"Yes." Her voice is scarcely audible.
"How often did you experience pain?"
The young woman begins to shift uncomfortably, noticeably struggling to maintain composure.
The experienced therapist decides not to press the issue that is obviously a tremendous source of anguish. Instead, she gently guides the younger woman, "Emma, this is not an uncommon experience for woman who have been victims of abuse or rape."
It becomes clear to the mental-health expert that she has touched a nerve.
"It's not your fault."
The silent young woman struggles to steady her shaking hands. "That's what Regina's always telling me."
"Since you've been back with Regina, has your desire changed?"
Emma is only grateful to be brought back to the present. She has no difficulty talking about her life with the woman she loves.
"I always want to have sex with Regina." Her delivery takes on a tone of disappointment, as she says, "I just wish my body would sync with my mind." She pauses before adding, "Sometimes it's challenging."
"What happens?"
She should have known that she wouldn't get off that easily and would be expected to elaborate, the younger woman thinks. She tries to explain, stumbling through her attempt at elucidation. "I…um…sort of…tense." She sighs heavily, covering her face with her hands.
"It's alright, Emma. You're doing fine," Wendy assures. "Are you still experiencing pain?" As soon as she says it, she regrets her casual delivery.
The younger woman bites back, "Regina would never hurt me!"
She is determined to make amends for her previous error and returns the focus to Emma's emotional struggle, explaining, "If you experience pain, it does not necessarily mean that your partner is the cause." When that doesn't elicit a negative reaction, Wendy feels that it is safe to continue. "But it's important that you communicate with your fiancée if sex is painful."
Embarrassed by her outburst, the younger woman calmly answers the previously asked question. "No. It's not painful anymore," she explains, "it's just difficult sometimes."
When Emma notices the older woman subtly nod her head, she imagines that if her therapist didn't have first hand experience with this particular difficulty, she obviously had come across it many times in her practice.
"Is this a source of stress for you, knowing what happens to your body when you and Regina are intimate?"
"I don't think stress is the right word," Emma clarifies. She searches for suitable words to accurately depict her experience. "But I'm aware of what happens. I'm self-conscious, or, at least I was, at first." She smiles fondly, remembering the patience and compassion her fiancée has shown her. "Regina always puts me at ease." She surprises herself by what she reveals next. "But, honestly, I feel broken."
Wendy's voice is barely above a whisper as she says, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."
With her eyes still focused on her lap, Emma's nod is almost undetectable. Her confession to brokenness had affected her more than she let on as a single tear rolls down her cheek.
"Nothing you did or didn't do made you deserving of the way this man treated you." The poised woman continues, "Unfortunately, there are scars left behind. But now you can start to heal them. It's going to take time and commitment." She softens her tone. "But you have the best thing working in your favor, an understanding partner."
In the past she had a tendency toward closing off to the advice of mental-health experts. But now she lets Wendy's words affect her as she lifts hopeful eyes to meet the older woman's gaze.
"And, from what you've told me, her love for you is unconditional."