Reba pulled up to Dr. Baker's office fifteen minutes early, which left her with plenty of time to chew the skin off her thumb while she waited. She'd tried flipping through a magazine but soon realized she'd been stuck on the same page without reading a single word.
"Earth to Reba,"
She blinked and looked up to see him standing right in front of her. She'd been so deep in spiralling thoughts that she hadn't even noticed when the previous patient had walked right past her and out the door.
"Dr. Baker, hi! How long have you been standin' there?"
He smiled softly, "Long enough," he motioned toward his office. "After you,"
She heard him shut the door behind them, but she found herself frozen, clutching her purse.
"Reba?" he placed a hand on her shoulder, "Why don't you have a seat?"
She reluctantly sat on the edge of the couch as far away from his armchair as she could and set her purse on her lap.
He took his place across from her. "So," he began.
"So," she said, dragging the word out far too long in her nervousness.
"How are you?" he asked.
She chewed the inside of her cheek and fingered an errant thread on her purse. "Fine."
He raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
She met his eyes and finally let her shoulders slump. "No," she sighed as she moved her purse to the floor and readjusted to fold one leg beneath her. "I'm not fine."
He nodded and set his notepad and pencil down on the side table. "Understandable; what happened here yesterday couldn't have been easy for you."
She laughed shortly. "That's the understatement of the year," she looked down at her hands. "Alright, get on with it. Shrink me. Do your worst, I can take it."
He laughed, "That's how you want to play this?"
She shrugged, "Why not? I'm here, aren't I?"
He parted his hands with a shrug of his own, "Well, let's start with what happened after you left."
She ran her tongue across her teeth. "I sat in my car for a while," she began.
"In the parking lot?" he asked.
She nodded absently, "And I picked up a couple bottles of wine from that place around the corner."
"Go on,"
"Then I dug some paperwork out of the garage to keep myself busy," she continued. "And that's when you called."
He nodded, "What happened after?"
She looked down at her hands, "I had the house to myself, so I ran a bath and drank the wine," she said slowly.
Dr. Baker leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, "Is that something you do often?"
She looked up, her eyes guarded, "Am I an alcoholic? No," she clarified. "Do I sometimes wind down in the evenin' with a few glasses of wine? Yes."
"That's perfectly fine," he chuckled.
She brought her knee up in front of her and picked at the denim stitching. "Then I cried for hours," she said softly.
Dr. Baker was quiet for a moment, studying her as she stared blankly at the rug. "Reba, can I ask you something?"
She looked up, "That is part of your job, isn't it?"
"How often do you process emotions?"
"Other than anger?"
"Other than anger," he nodded.
"I try not to."
"Why do you think that is?"
"You've met Brock and Barbra Jean. I have two more just like 'em still livin' at home with their toddler, a teenager with an attitude who lives with the other two, and an eleven-year-old. Someone has to be the adult in the house."
"You can address your emotions and still be a good Mom, Reba."
She shook her head, "No, I can't."
"Why?"
"I'm not that strong! If I took the time to properly process everything that's happened in my life over the past four years, I wouldn't be sane enough to take care of anyone," she said. "Myself included."
"Reba, I'd argue that you haven't really been taking care of yourself at all."
She scoffed, "I do so!"
He raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
She glared at him, ready to argue on her own behalf, then let out the breath she'd sucked in in one giant exhale. "No."
"Have you tried taking some time for yourself?"
She rose to her feet with a laugh, "Are you kiddin' me? My whole day, every single day is fixin' everybody else's problems. At this point, I should tear out my front door and put in a revolvin' one."
Dr. Baker smiled at the sentiment as he watched her pace the floor.
"There is no time leftover to deal with my own issues at the end of the day. I can't take from somethin' that's not there."
He leaned back and crossed his legs, "Alright, Reba; there's a whole other set of problems we need to address in just that alone. So, we're going to back up for a minute," he said. "I'm going to ask you something in a second here that you're not going to like," he began. "But, I want you to try, alright?"
She nodded from across the room, "Alright,"
"Yesterday in my office, what was going through your mind right before Barbra Jean showed up?" He held up his hand when she immediately opened her mouth to speak, "No, I want you to think about it first."
She rolled her eyes but did as he asked. "Fear," she said finally.
"What were you afraid of?" he prompted.
"I was afraid because," she stopped. "Because," she could feel the panic rising in her chest at the direct confrontation and turned away. "I don't know!"
"Yes, you do."
She opened her mouth to speak again and stuttered briefly before stopping at his bookcase. She picked at one of the spines.
"Reba,"
"I do, alright?" she said, "I still love him." She looked up and tried to blink away the sting of oncoming tears, "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Ah, the door."
"Yeah, the door," she let her hand fall from one of the ceramic trinkets on his shelf and returned to the couch. "Brock just needs to move back in with Barbra Jean."
"Is that how you really feel about it? Do you think he and Barbra Jean staying together will make all of this go away?"
She shrugged as she sat, "Maybe?"
He shook his head and leaned forward again, "Do you think you might be projecting?"
"Projectin' what?" she spat.
"You feel like he didn't try hard enough to work things out with you; therefore, you believe that he should lay in the bed he made because of it."
Her foot hit the floor as she leaned forward, "That's ridiculous!"
"Is it?"
"Yes!"
"Then you've forgiven him?" he asked.
She released her clenched jaw and looked down at her hands once more. She was quiet for a long time. "I don't know," she answered honestly.
"There it is," Dr. Baker smiled.
"What?" she asked.
Her eyes were glistening with tears when she met his. "You think that by not forgiving him, the door will stay closed."
She looked away. She didn't even have to say it.
"Reba, do you believe in second chances?" he asked after a moment.
"What?" she asked in disbelief.
He leaned forward, "Do you believe in second chances?" he repeated.
"Why would you even ask me that?"
"There is a very real possibility that Brock and Barbra Jean might not get through this."
She jumped to her feet. "Of course, they'll get through this! That's what they've been comin' to you for!"
He chuckled. "I'm flattered by your faith in me, but not every marriage makes it, and that's okay. My job is not to keep people together; it's to help them work through their problems. Sometimes separation is the only way for that to happen."
She crossed her arms over her chest, "Why are you tellin' me all this?"
"To prepare you for a potential outcome you haven't allowed yourself to consider." He stood, "Reba, I said it yesterday, and I'll say it again. Open or closed, this door will still be here whether Barbara Jean is or not." He touched her shoulder, and she flinched, "Brock told you that he hasn't been happy for a long time, and he's starting to think that his unhappiness might have been in leaving you. Doesn't that tell you something?"
"I wasn't ready to hear it,"
"I disagree," he said frankly. "You were ready. I'd even be willing to bet that you've been waiting a long time for it. What you weren't ready for were the feelings that came with it."
"Alright, fine then," she said shakily. "Let's say they split up, and Brock does feel the same way. That still doesn't change the fact that the kids don't want us to get back together."
"How do you know that?" he asked with interest.
She took a deep breath, released it, and sat back down, "Because, according to Cheyenne, our eldest, it would be the worst thing that could ever happen." As she said it, a tear finally fell, "She honestly thinks I've been happier since the divorce." She wiped away the tear as another fell, "She thinks I've moved on."
"Why do you think she believes that?"
Reba shrugged, "I'm a good liar, I guess."
"No, Reba. You just don't want to come across as weak to your kids."
She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her nose, "Y'know, you're actually right about that one. Maybe they did teach you a thing or two at Harvard and Yale, and," She pointed to the wall next to the door, "Did I see Princeton too?"
He nodded with a smile. "You did."
"Lord," she breathed.
Leaning back and recrossing his legs, Dr. Baker quickly brought the conversation back around. "Honestly though, Reba, have you ever talked to Cheyenne about any of this?"
Reba shook her head, "I've never talked to anyone about it."
He pressed the end of his pencil against his temple. "Do you think the two of you could sit down and talk about it?"
Reba snorted, "With Cheyenne? Absolutely not."
"What about your other daughter?"
"My 16-year-old?" she asked. "I mean, Kyra and I have always been pretty honest and open with each other,"
He raised his eyebrows in encouragement.
She thought about it a moment longer, "No, no, I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because she's still a kid! I can't just put somethin' like that on her."
"Do you think she'd understand where you were coming from if you did?"
"Yeah, she probably would," she said after a moment. "But I'm still not gonna do it."
He dropped the issue with a simple nod.
"So, what am I supposed to do about Brock?" she asked.
"What do you want to do?"
"Push him away," she said without a moment's hesitation.
"Why?"
"Because,"
"Because why?" he pushed.
"It's easier than lettin' him love me again!" she exclaimed, immediately scrambling to compose herself after the words left her mouth. She watched as he scrawled something across his notepad.
"Hypothetically still, do you think he'd make the same mistake twice?"
She shook her head, "I don't want to find out."
Dr. Baker cocked his head to the side, "So, you'd rather live the rest of your life afraid than take the chance that there's happiness for both of you on the other side of the door?"
Her brows furrowed, "Well when you say it like that, it does sound kinda silly."
He chuckled, "You said it, not me."
She picked at her thumbnail. "To answer your other question, hypothetically, yes, I do believe in second chances."
He pointed at her with his pencil. "If it happens to come to it, hold onto that."
"If it comes to it. Which, as long as you do your job right, it won't."
He rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated. "Okay," He flipped the cover of his notebook over and set it and his pencil down on the table.
"Time?" she asked, catching on to his irritation.
"Yeah, let's cut it there."
Reba frowned playfully, "And I was so close to a breakthrough and everything."
He rose to his feet with another roll of his eyes. "Reba, did you want me to pencil you in for another session next week?"
She shook her head and reached down to pick up one of his cards, "How about I call you next time?"
He smiled as he followed her out to the lobby. "I'll believe it when I see it," he said. "Oh, and Reba, if you took anything away from today, I hope it was to take care of yourself."
She reached for the door and looked back over her shoulder at him, "I'm takin' plenty away, don't worry. Thanks, Joe."