By the time morning rolled around and Kim arrived at Erin's apartment for carpool, she found the new mother pacing back and forth still dressed in sweatpants and an oversized shirt. A fresh spit up stain is plastered on the front, and she's scrubbing at it pretty hard, mindlessly wiping at the milk stain until it's unnoticeable. The way she is focusing on this stain makes Kim believe she plans to wear this oversized shirt to work, but in all actuality, that shirt will probably be discarded in the hamper in her bedroom yet Erin is determined to get this stain out. Kim cautiously approaches her friend as if Erin was a hurt animal in need of comfort. Her arm was outstretched and her hand reached her before the rest of her body did, "What's going on?"
If Erin wasn't so frazzled and unnerved, she'd probably laugh at Kim's approach to talking her off the ledge. The wide eyes of her friend as she inched closer, afraid that she'd scare her off, but truth be told, Erin is too consumed by her overwhelming emotions to focus in on what Kim is saying, yet she cannot find it in herself to listen, even though she knows it will help in the end.
"Erin!" Kim shouts, snapping her friend back into focus, "what's wrong? What's going on?"
"I can't fucking do this," Erin cried out, rapidly approaching the verge of tears. This meltdown had been a long time coming and as the baby whimpered in the other room, Erin felt the legendary mom guilt take over, "I can't leave her alone. I can't Kim. I don't know how other moms do this. Since she has been earthside, I've never been away from her for longer than two hours. And what makes it worse, what makes it even harder is that it looks like she knows I'm leaving her, like those big green eyes of hers get so watery when I look at her and she keeps crying when I put her down," Erin pauses to listen out for her daughter's whimper, "you hear her? How do you expect me to walk out on that? To leave her when she's so used to me tending to her every time she's sad or in need? What is she going to think when I'm gone for so long?"
"…What?" Kim finds herself absolutely confused by her friend's spiraling thoughts, "Erin, she's right in the other room. And at work, she'll literally be here with your mom. She won't be alone." Burgess frowned at Erin's worries. Her concern was unsubstantiated. With Emma being so young, she'll be watched at home by Erin's mom and when she gets a few months older, she'll go to the daycare at their job. The building where they worked had a daycare on the first floor; Erin will only be a few floors above it. And the only reason she hadn't enrolled her daughter in daycare right now is because Emma deserves all the attention right now, not to share it with other babies and daycare workers. She doesn't intend to enroll her at least until she can crawl.
"You don't understand," Erin is pushing clothes around in her closet, searching for a clean enough blouse to pair with her pencil skirt, "she was inside me for nine months. This is going to be the first time that we're going to be away from each other," Erin began her argument, "I don't want her to miss me or feel lonely. I can't sleep without her near me. What makes you think I can go to work for eight hours without her? And since she's so young, she'll forget about me."
"She's going to miss you. We know that and when it happens then you call your mom and, in a few months, when she comes to daycare, just go downstairs to visit her in the daycare," Kim spoke to Erin slowly, trying and failing to calm her down. She was coming from a place of logic while Erin was strictly coming from a place of emotion.
"I don't think I'll be able to go too long without her in my arms." Erin rips a blouse off the hanger and changes out of the oversized shirt to put on something more presentable.
"Sorry, but eventually you're going to have to get used to it."
"Well, she's only a few days past one month and eventually is not now."
"You're just going to have to go through the day to realize it's not going to be that bad."
That piece of advice sounded familiar; it sounds like one she's told herself in regards to Jay. That seems to be the recurring theme of her week, -the unknown is scary but once you go through with it, the anxiety starts to lessen and the unknown becomes familiar. Erin bites her lip, toying with the thought of becoming used to leaving Emma in the morning and being reunited with her in the afternoon. It would be nice to have regular adult conversation. It would feel good to get dressed up, do her hair and feel like a new woman. It surely would feel good to wear something that isn't covered in spit up and that isn't soaked with water from bath time.
"All done," Erin announces once she steps into her heels, "How do I look?"
Sighing deeply, Burgess pushed herself up off the bed, "...like you're going to make us late."
"Kim, I'm going as fast as I can!"
"When I called to say I'm on my way, you said you'd be ready in five minutes. You lied."
Erin gives her a dumb-founded expression, finding herself actually surprised, "You really believed that? Everybody says give me five as a unit of measurement, like a figure of speech, no one actually means five minutes. You've even asked me to give you five minutes before when you actually meant a half an hour. It's early Kim, but it's not that early to be taking me literally."
Kim knew Erin was right, so she couldn't respond, instead she went out to the living room to wait for her friend to make sense of the bird's nest atop her head. She was only given something to do when Camille arrived, yawning and dragging her feet inside. She plummets face down on the couch, exhausted from whatever late night festivities she got into on Sunday.
"Good morning to you too Camille," Kim remarks when the older woman enters without greeting. Camille doesn't even bother to respond, she simply throws her hand up to wave.
Soon enough, Erin comes rushing out of the room, one earring in her ear, while the other hangs between her teeth. Her arm is draped around Emma's waist with the baby's back pressed against her side as she rushes through her living room. Half of her hair is up, and the other half is down, with a light coating of makeup covering her face to hide the tired eyes that she's been sporting since she gave birth. Camille rolls over on the couch, going from her stomach to her back, with her eyes pressed shut to block out the light, "Here mom," Erin doesn't wait for her mom to be ready, she sits the baby on her lap, "she should be ready for a bottle in the next hour. I changed her diaper before you got here, she should be ready for a nap soon."
Camille simply grunts to let Erin know she's been heard. Erin rubs the nonexistent wrinkles out of her skirt, looks around herself to ensure her button-up shirt is tucked in and then glances down to make sure she's wearing the same shoes. It's early, and she wouldn't have been surprised to walk out with two different shoes. Fortunately, she looks good, and when Kim compliments her curves, she starts to feel good. Erin grabs her jacket and her purse then she's behind Kim and heading out the door, stopping in the hall only to turn around and rush back inside to pepper multiple kisses against Emma's face, all of which brought a slight gummy smile to her lips.
"Oh now I'm officially ready," Erin announces, meeting her best friend back in the hallway.
"I just want to say," Kim starts, throwing her arm around Erin's shoulders, "you as a mama was something I didn't know I needed to see. I keep thinking back to when you found out."
"Ugh, I was terrified," they walked off the elevator, "that girl was a baby compared to now."
"Yeah, you've definitely grown. Emma did that."
Due to the early morning, the ride into work was quiet, only the sound of traffic could be heard in Kim's vehicle with the brief whisper of an order when they placed their coffee orders at Dunkin Donuts. If not for coffee, she'd be a walking zombie. Erin double checked her appearance in the window reflection of her office building before heading inside.
This space feels so foreign yet so familiar. She hopes she's eased back into work and not an oversized caseload being thrown on her plate on the first day. She takes a sip of coffee to warm her body and wake her system before following Kim off the elevator. The fluorescent light nearly blinds her, and she can already feel a headache approaching if she stays below them for too long.
"Good morning," Kenny is at her side seconds after she sits at her cubicle, "how was maternity leave? How is the baby doing? How are you doing? You look great, Erin."
Erin can barely get the swallow of coffee down before he throws question after question out at her. She cuts her computer on, eye contact avoiding the stack of files to her left with the hopes of living in continued ignorance and bliss until she gets to a point where it can't be avoided anymore. Erin takes a breath when she realizes that Kenny is still standing at her desk, leaning against the edge of it with one ankle wrapped around the other, "Sorry if I'm being a bit standoffish," she forces a grin, "I'm taking it in and trying to get used to being back." She reaches into her nearest bag and withdraws a framed photo of Emma, one professionally captured when her little pea was only two weeks old.
Kenny's eyes draw to the picture, once again being reminded of her motherhood status. He reaches for the picture, catching her off guard when he lifts up the frame, "She's absolutely adorable," the compliment makes her smile, a real, big genuine one, "got a recent pic?"
"Of course I do," she's enthused to show him as many photos as she can get through before their morning meeting, "this was her just yesterday," Erin shows him the screen, nearly accidentally hitting him in the face. He leans his head back and takes hold of the phone.
"It's hard to believe this little girl is the same one in that picture."
Now it's Erin's turn to swipe the frame off her desk to look closely, "I knowwwwwww my baby is growing up! Any tips on how to make it slow down, Kenny? I'm all ears."
"I wish I could help you with that, but all I got for you is to take advantage of every second."
Before Erin could respond, Kim pops her head over her cubicle to remind her of the upcoming meeting, and with her conversation with Kenny forgotten, she stands and grabs the stack of folders, only for them to be swiped from her hands when he offers to carry them, "Don't you need to bring your own active cases to the meeting?"
"I'll take these to the conference room and then go get mine."
"Are you sure? It's not that heavy and it's only a hall away."
Erin follows behind him, ignoring the quirked brow from her closest friend. She hopes this isn't going to become something to Kim, she doesn't feel like it. Just as he said, he sits her stack of files down and heads back out, leaving Erin to a room of her coworkers all congratulating her and asking to see pictures of Emma later. When the meeting starts, she doesn't have much to report since it's her first day back, however her supervisor does take her through each file, filling her in on updates to some of her clients prior to maternity leave as well as information on the new kids that recently entered foster care or need investigation into reports of potential abuse. A sad reminder, especially for a new mom, that babies like Emma are treated harshly. Once conversation shifts to her next coworker, diving headfirst into his caseload, Erin withdraws her phone and begins her email search. And nothing comes up, only suggestions of making sure all words are spelled correctly, try different keywords and try more general keywords. Still, that doesn't deter her. She breaks the email up, tries that, only to get no results. She tries a different search engine and gets nothing to show for it. She tries another and then another and the same results keep coming up. She's neither a tech wiz, nor a computer expert, hence why she wants to reach out to Mouse. The thought of asking Jay briefly comes to mind, but they didn't leave things off on the best terms, and she thinks of him, Abby and therapy, knowing that he has that on his plate and the last thing she truly needs to do is distract him from that.
So, Mouse it is.
She pulls his number up, stares into the blank field waiting for her to type something. She hardly knows the guy, only met him not too long ago. She's never had to talk to him, and she doesn't even know if he has her number. Her dad made it a point to ensure that she had the entire team's numbers just in case she needed to reach him. It most likely wasn't given for her to freely contact them for favors outside of their work. Yet, that doesn't stop her from typing, hey Mouse, it's Erin, Voight's daughter, I was hoping to ask you for a huge favor, one that could stay between us.
She sets her phone face down, too anxious and nervous to watch. Her leg shakes, the bottom of her foot tapping as she tries to focus in on what another coworker is saying. Something about one of her older clients, aged thirteen, finding a forever home, something they know is rarer for teenagers than babies. That distracts her enough until she finds it in herself to flip her phone over, noticing there's an unread text and opening it up to see it from him, -of course, mums the word, what do you need? Erin immediately responds, adding the email address towards the end and when he provides a response with the thumb up emoji, she's reassured enough to know that one of the smartest computer wizards is on the case and he'll definitely find the culprit.
The clock on the adjacent wall ticks by slowly, and with Erin at work, Abby doesn't have much to do. She has no entertainment besides the drawings in her notebook. She pulls it out from beneath the couch cushion and stares at the multiple pictures she sketched of Emma. She flips to the newest note she wrote to leave on Erin's car the next time she's around. She saw no discussion of it, no mention of it on the camera which leads Abby to believe the note must have gotten discarded or blown away. She'll just have to leave another and then another until the message is received and the behavior has changed. Once she gets Erin out of the picture then Abby can fully invest in her relationship, in building it up from where things were left off and remind Jay about all he is missing when he's not in her presence.
Abby stares at the drawn photo of Emma, the blackened eyes she gave the baby, taking away all innocence that a drawing of an infant would typically possess. To others it would be creepy but to her it's beautiful. It's dark, like her soul is becoming, a gnawing feeling that she becomes fond of and when she flips the page to make another drawing, this one of the child's mother, the darkness grows. The drawing she makes of Erin, resembles one of a ghoul, because it's what Abby sees her as, comparing Erin's spirit to one of dark and evil. It makes her feel good, drawing and journaling the scary thoughts that live rent free in her head. It buys her time, adding a stall tactic so she doesn't have to jump right into action. She writes and draws freely, knowing that she is safe and alone in the apartment allows her to speak what she's writing out loud. Her pen starts to tear through the page when her writing gets harder, she's in a rage, and the more she pictures Jay with Erin and Emma as the perfect family, the angrier she gets. She wants to break something, but she has to resist, she needs to hold in the anger because this is Jay's home and she won't be able to logically explain why his place looks like the after effects of a rage room.
It's not easy to put on an act, to maintain a persona that isn't your true self. It's difficult, so the only time she has to release it is when he's away yet her mind and body always craves him. If she could be glued to him forever, she'd jump at the chance. Abby knows he'll be late coming home, after work he has therapy and then after therapy he says he'll be stopping by to visit the baby. Abby wants to be patient, she wants to be happy for him, but ever since Emma came into the picture, the little time that she had with him has become nonexistent. She finds herself jealous of a freaking baby more than she's jealous of Erin. A sad thought to have but one based in reality for her. And the last thing she wants to do is hurt a baby, but she's being forced into a corner, one that she's afraid will slowly put her in a position where she doesn't have a choice.
If it's between her and Erin, she'll choose herself. If it's between her and Emma, she'll choose herself. However, if it's between her and Jay, she'll always choose him, over and over again with no regrets and no hesitation. She pulls herself from the ruminating topic of her personal life, and chooses to focus on cleaning and getting this place back in the order that Jay likes it. She loads up her camera screen, choosing to listen to Camille and Emma as background noise as she mindlessly cleans, scrubs and then addresses the welted scars on her leg from cutting. She isn't paying attention to the screen, knowing she'd grow bored from seeing Camille coo at the baby, or clean up, or play with her, or watch television. Her attention is only sparked when she hears Erin's voice filling the apartment, calling out for her mom to let her know she's home.
"You're home early," Camille acknowledges, cutting off the song she was humming to Emma since it's a few minutes past her naptime, "couldn't stay away for too long?"
"I took half a day. How was she?"
"She was so good, on her best behavior," Camille passed the baby over to her, "we did tummy time, we played with some blocks, she took a catnap in her swing, she had a warm bath and I made lunch; there's leftovers wrapped up on the counter. Cheeseburgers and fries."
"That sounds so good," Erin steps out of her shoes, "I'll probably have it for dinner. My job got catering done from Velvet Taco so I'm not hungry right now."
"They got catering to welcome you back?"
"Ha," Erin chuckled, "not at all, my supervisor's boss is retiring so it was sort of a farewell. He gave over twenty years to the job, it was definitely well deserved."
Erin raised the baby up to bring her down for a smooch to the corner of her mouth, which served to reward her with that special mommy only smile. Erin keeps her baby's face in front of her own, staying in the baby's line of vision, remaining close enough to her face so her gaze can be clear and she can see the full expression of love and warmth brought to her mama's face just by being in her embrace. Emma truly doesn't know how much her mama loves her, but Erin will surely make sure she's aware of it for as long as she walks this earth. It's the least she could do as a mother, the bare minimum really, yet it's a feat that in her line of work, she realizes a lot of parents, for some reason, don't reach. Erin lowers her baby and brings her in for another smooch just as Emma's mouth stretches wide into a gummy yawn. Her face contorted and her fisted hands reaching up into the air to stretch, "Somebody is ready for a nap!"
"...better late than never," Camille retorted, collecting the plethora of toys scattered around the living room in order to put them back where she got them.
"What does that mean?" Erin squints as she assesses her mom's words, "Camille Voight, are you telling me that you didn't put Emma down for her one o'clock nap?"
"The kid didn't want to sleep," Camille defended.
"I'm trying to get her on a routine. That's hard enough. Skipping naps just makes it harder."
"Missing one nap will not hurt her. Let the kid live, Erin."
"Who are you and what have you done to my anal-retentive mother?"
"I'm just saying," she throws her hands into the air, "the baby wanted to play a little longer and I couldn't possibly say no to that. And besides, I'm grandma, I get to give in to her wants and spoil her. I don't have to be the rule enforcer for her, that's your job."
"You let those eyes get to you?" Erin shakes her head and tsks, obviously disappointed that a cooing baby was able to babble her way out of a nap and into more playtime.
"I sure did, and I have no regrets," Camille uses her hip to push Emma's door further open to walk inside with her arms full of toys, "we had a blast today. We played with all these fun toys, we did tummy time together, facetimed grandpa during his lunch break and we even took Milo on a walk."
Erin set the now napping baby down in her swing, "So, that's why he didn't greet me at the door," she leaned her head to the left to see over the couch, spotting him sleeping against the purple octopus and once again using the tentacle as a pillow, "you wore my poor baby out!"
"I figured a walk was necessary since the last time I visited, he ate the rest of his doggy treats."
"I'm actually glad you mentioned that because I have no clue what you're talking about."
"I don't understand what you don't understand."
"You said Milo got into his treats but he couldn't possibly have because he didn't have any."
Camille shrugs, obviously not finding the point in seeking an explanation, "...maybe he had some that you forgot about? Or he had hidden some somewhere? Or somebody brought him some?"
She thinks back to that phone call, wishing she wasn't so tired then so she could remember it better. Her mom doesn't rush her, so she gains the time needed to recall, "You said Milo was barking like crazy. He rarely barks, unless there's a danger he's trying to warn someone about, a threat he's trying to force away or if he's trying to seek help. You said you thought someone was at the door, is it possible that someone was actually at the door?"
"No," Camille is pretty confident in her reply, "I looked in the hall. No one was there."
Erin goes quiet, obviously stuck in her suspicion and paranoid to where her mind is taking her. It just doesn't make sense. She knows Milo very well, she knows what he would do and what he wouldn't do. She knows her dog. Erin looks to the side, biting her bottom lip as she thinks harder, trying to piece together a rationale that makes sense. Suddenly, she remembers the dried blood on the wall, which she cleaned up the day she cleaned Eric's blood from her carpet, sparking another line of thought that has her turning to her mother, "Since I've been living here, have you ever cut yourself or bled?" The question throws her mother for a loop.
"No?" Camille answers it as more of a question.
"Mom, I need you to be sure."
"I didn't cut myself."
"Are you positive?"
"Erin, I think I would know and remember if I hurt myself to the point of bleeding. What is this about?" Camille folds the blanket she used for tummy time and drapes it over the arm of the chair, awaiting an explanation. When Erin doesn't respond right away, Camille turns to give her her undivided attention, showing that she does in fact expect an answer.
"I have no proof whatsoever but what if someone was in here," and when Camille frowns, Erin rolls her eyes and elaborates, "there was a dried blood stain right there," Erin points to the former spot, "no one knows how it got there and then what you mentioned about Milo barking."
"Sweetie, you're being a bit paranoid. None of that actually means someone was in here. I know it's probably a bit stressful living alone with a baby considering what happened in New York, but you have to remember that just because a break-in happened once doesn't mean it'll happen again, especially if you're locking your doors. Maybe an alarm system will help?"
Camille's hand caresses against her daughter's jaw, the pad of her thumb stroking the center of her cheek, hoping her words weren't taken too harshly. Erin doesn't speak, she simply leans into her mother's palm, before being embraced into her warmth. Her mom kisses the side of her head and holds her tight, running her hand up and down her back, and holding her as tightly as she wished she could the night of the New York break-in.
This scene makes her bored so she simply clicks out of the camera. She looked out of the window, ensuring no cars were coming before stepping out. She left the apartment once she finished cleaning and noticed Erin was home. She listened to the conversation between Erin and Camille, without watching, in order to pay attention to the road. And now that she's here, they're still embracing each other. Fortunately for her, Camille talked that idea out of her daughter's head. Hopefully she did at least. The already prepared note is gripped tightly in her hand, ensuring the nighttime breeze didn't blow it away. With added precision, she lifts the windshield wiper, sticks the note in place and adds two pieces of tape for good measure, "There." She releases the windshield wiper, "that should do the trick."
She's confident that her note, warning Erin to stay away should be delivered with no problems. Abby backs away, knowing she shouldn't stick around for long because of the chance of being caught when something crunches under her foot. It's a piece of paper, partially caught in a grate and held down by a pebble, and just based on the chances, she knows it's her old note. Just as she assumed, it blew away, partially under a tire, ensuring it didn't continue to blow away. It's no use keeping this note since writing a new one so she tears it to shreds before discarding it in the nearby trash can. Her job for the night is done and after looking both ways, she crosses the street and gets into the car, knowing she needs to get home before Jay so she can keep up her facade.
For a second, she forgets he has therapy, but when she looks at her phone and sees the reminder from her calendar app, she takes an alternative route, turning to drive towards the therapy office to verify that his car is parked in its lot. And when she sees it, his license plate number verifying the owner, she grabs her phone and sends off a text, wishing him luck on his first session.
And for a second, Jay thinks she's a mind reader because that text came right on time. He's nervous, absolutely, out of his mind filled with nerves. The butterflies figuratively in his tummy are flapping at an insurmountable speed that he knows there's no way to stop them. He sends back his thanks, truly appreciating her thinking of him enough to reach out seconds before the start. When his therapist walks in, he silences his phone and pockets it, knowing it's polite to pay attention. She greets him. He greets her back. Then he waits in silence for the session to start. Deep breaths.
Despite how comfortable the couch is, he couldn't relax. He struggled finding a suitable position to release the tension in his shoulders and be fully present. He was nervous, and trying to recall every piece of advice Erin had given him for his first session was harder than he thought. Be open. Be honest. Be willing to listen and change. It sounds easy but he can already tell it's going to be difficult. He reminds himself that feeling nervous is not only normal but it's expected. Despite his natural fear of the unknown, the added factor of throwing himself into something foreign has him ready to explode. Deep breaths. It's going to be okay.
"We'll start in just a few," she says by way of greeting and it leaves him longer with his thoughts.
The idea of therapy is weird to him. Meeting someone new and being expected to just spill your guts. He has to put trust in a stranger that she'll be able to help him, that she will understand his situation and be able to express empathy for him and help him problem-solve and cope with his issues. And then when he realizes the relationship isn't mutual, it's not built on a two-way street, meaning he won't know anything personal about her, he probably won't know about her struggles, the challenges she's overcome and the obstacles still in place in her life. He doesn't know what she goes home to, if she has a family looking forward to seeing her or if she goes home to an empty house. Maybe she takes medication to treat a diagnosed mental illness herself or maybe she cries into pints of ice cream and doesn't use her own tips and interventions she brings out for therapy to help herself? It's an odd concept because she won't be a stranger for long. He will come back, she will become familiar and he will still know the bare minimum about her.
His therapist looks up at him, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and the black square glasses frame her oval-shaped face. She rises to her feet, walks around her desk and takes a seat in the armchair adjacent to him, a clipboard is situated on her lap and after crossing her right leg over her left, she pulls the pen from atop her ear and begins writing. It makes him feel even more uncomfortable, body rigid and stiff and he starts glancing around the room, until she lowers the pen onto the clipboard and looks back up at him, "My apologies for keeping you waiting," she smiles and the dimples in her cheek immediately remind him of Erin, and by proxy, Emma, "Hi Jay, can I call you Jay or would you prefer Mr. Halstead or Detective Halstead?"
He clears his throat, "You can call me Jay." His voice catches him off guard, it squeaks, taking him back to his prepubescent years that he'd prefer not to mentally revisit.
"Hi Jay," she repeats her earlier greeting, "I'm Milah Sutton, but you can just call me Milah. I want to thank you for completing the intake process with one of my interns and because you are here today, it's safe to assume that you are still interested in counseling, is that safe to assume?"
He clears his throat again, and nervously shifts on the couch, "Yes."
"Great, that's good to hear," she sits up straight, "I'd like to start off by first welcoming you to your first session. Did you have any questions about any of the paperwork you had to sign? The confidentiality policy? The informed consent? Any of that?" He shakes his head no and Milah leans forward to set her clipboard down on the coffee table and cross her hands over her lap, "I saw in your paperwork that this is your first time in therapy," he nods to back her statement up, "I know creating a relationship with someone you have never met can feel extremely overwhelming and sharing your thoughts, feelings and experiences with a stranger can be a bit odd, but honestly I'm just here to listen to you, to not judge you and to support and guide you on your journey," it's like she read his mind, "So, to start off, I'd like to give you the floor to tell me what brought you to therapy?"
"I wrote that in," he points to the papers attached to her clipboard, "in the paperwork."
"I know but I always like to hear it firsthand from the client."
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, "I'm in a relationship that I don't want to be in."
"That can't be easy," she holds eye contact and frowns to reflect her words, "What's been keeping you there? What brings you to stay in a relationship that you don't want to be in?"
He doesn't want to answer that so he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck as Milah watches him, observing his non-verbal body signs as she patiently waits for an answer. He doesn't want to be judged, and she picks up on that fear almost instantly, "I'm not here to judge you, Jay. It's not my job to judge you. I'm sure whatever you say won't be the first time I've heard it."
And that seems to do the trick, he offers her the honest truth, "I've hurt her too many times and leaving her would only hurt her again. She has no one here but me, only me and she moved here for me, if I leave her, she's going to hurt herself and she doesn't deserve that," his jaw tightens as he holds back the obvious emotion displayed on his face, "she deserves better than me, so I'm keeping my distance, withdrawing from her, hoping that she leaves me but she won't, she sticks by me through all my shit even after I make mistake after mistake and I don't know what to do."
Milah watched as his eyes misted over before those tears broke free and trickled down his face, leaving behind tear tracks to show just how much this is affecting him, "Wow, that's a lot to take on. I bet you're feeling stuck, overwhelmed," he nods upon hearing that, "and probably frustrated and like there's a lot of pressure on you," he nods again, and the fact that she hit the nail on the head about his feelings makes him start to trust her more, "anybody would feel like that, I know I would, no one can fault you for those feelings, Jay," she admits, dropping her leg from its crossed position, "you said that you've hurt her too many times, how did you hurt her?"
"I cheated," he painfully admits, and just when she thinks he's done, he adds, "and had a baby."
"You had a baby with the person you cheated on her with?" She clarifies, and when he nods, she continues, "that has to be a hard balance, and I can see from the look in your eyes that you feel extremely guilty about that," based on the subtle change in expression, she pauses, and her silence alerts to him that she noticed it, "please correct me if I'm wrong Jay, do you feel guilty?"
"I did," fresh tears brimmed his eyes, "in the beginning."
"…then what changed?"
Despite his eyes shining with tears, the ghost of a smile covers his face as he pictures the last image of his daughter he saw, "the baby, my daughter, her name is Emma."
"Emma," Milah repeats, "that's a beautiful name."
"I'd hate to be one of those parents but when the session is over, I can show you a picture of her. I have so many pics on my phone and I have to figure out what to do with them because I'm running out of storage. My girl is very photogenic."
"I would love to see them," Milah's smile matches the one on his face, "so Jay," she redirects him back to the point of the conversation, "you said Emma changed everything, how so?"
"It was a one-night stand, but afterwards we got close, me and Emma's mom, her name's Erin, she's the reason I even decided to go to therapy. She's a huge advocate for it because of the help her therapist gave her. She talked it up so I figured why not try it out."
"You said 'we got close,' can you tell me what you mean by that?"
"We have real, authentic feelings for each other. We've slept with each other multiple times before Emma was born and even after. It's like I can't get enough of her and I think she feels the same. I know she feels the same."
"…and where does your girlfriend fit in all of this?"
"Abby," he provides her name, "she doesn't know," at least as far as he knows, "she has no idea and she trusts me and I keep betraying that trust and I don't know why."
"You already said why at the beginning of our session," she reminds, and continues when the look of confusion crosses his face, "it's because you're in a relationship that you don't want to be in. That's the why right there."
"…but that doesn't make it okay," he argues.
And Milah nods in agreement, "You're correct, but we're not debating whether or not it's okay, we're discussing the reason behind it. There's a difference between an explanation and a justification, that which we just talked about is the explanation."
Jay throws his head back on the couch, he shuts his eyes and he inhales sharply and holds it. Milah doesn't rush him, she never rushes the process. They're not meant to pull back all the layers in one session, that isn't how it works. She waits another beat and when he lifts his head, she can tell from his expression that he has more to say, "I want to leave her but I can't because I'm a coward. I don't have the guts to do it."
"I don't think you're a coward," Milah clasps her hands together, "you said earlier that if you leave her then she'll hurt herself," she repeats his earlier remarks which makes him realize just how good her memory must be, "what do you mean by she will hurt herself?"
"She'll try to kill herself," he states.
Milah slowly nods as she takes it in, and Jay starts to assume that maybe he stumped her, but when she opens her mouth to speak, he realizes she was simply gathering her words and shaping them in the best way possible, "That's not a healthy relationship, Jay, are you able to recognize that," he nods and she continues, "you are not obligated to be with her if you do not want to be, and you are not obligated to sacrifice your mental health at the expense of others. It is not my job to tell you whether to leave or stay, my job is to guide you to make the right decision for yourself, keep in mind, taking the threat of suicide off the table, you already said you do not want to be with her which means it is not fair for either of you to be together," she glances at her watch, and he knows their time is almost up, "I know that has to be scary to hear, especially from someone you care about because if you did not care about her, you would not be facing this dilemma. There are levels to this that I want us to unpack, I want us to continue meeting weekly, same day, same time, but before we close out, based on what you know of her, Abby you said her name was, right?" He nods again, "based on what you know of Abby, and I don't want you to answer this right away, I want you to think on this until next session, do you think she'll follow through with that threat or do you think it is a form of manipulation, and whether or not she will or will not, it is a form of emotional abuse because the primary goal of emotional abuse is control, it could be through manipulation, making you feel guilty, or humiliation, or using your fears or your compassion to control a situation, demanding to know where you are at all times, coercing you into spending time together, possessiveness, monitoring you digitally, among other signs, but regardless it'll keep you locked in to where you feel as if you can no longer endure the relationship but you find yourself too nervous to leave it which continues the cycle and one of the most common types of manipulation tactics is threatening harm, utilizing that as emotional blackmail. Next session I want to expand on that more. It is not your responsibility to care for someone's mental health. I do not know Abby, I cannot speak for Abby's motives and I cannot say whether it is any truth behind her threats, but we always want to take suicide seriously, we have other therapists at this practice, I think she would benefit from seeing one."
Jay swallows the lump that suddenly formed in his throat when all of her words resonated with him and he realized that she was waiting on a response, "Um, Abby has a therapist, she's actually seeing one here at this practice. I got the referral to come here from her."
"Oh, that's great to hear then," Milah rises to her feet, "she deserves the help and I hope she gets it, but in the meantime, next session I want to discuss the answer to my question you come up with, along with what emotional abuse looks like, where Emma and Erin fit into all of this and problem-solve ways for you to feel comfortable in amicably breaking up with Abby if that's what you decide," she patiently waits as Jay rises to his feet, and once he does the two of them walk to her office door, "you did amazing for your first session, and we have a ways to go, but I want to remind you that all of this was not created overnight which means it will not be fixed overnight, be patient with yourself and take it easy on yourself, you're not perfect, no one is, and anyone who expects perfection from you is setting unrealistic expectations that you do not have to meet. It is not on you, it is not your burden to bear, you can support but that's it, you can't force someone to get help, you can't do more work than someone else in getting them help, you can offer support, you can offer aid if needed and requested but you cannot do the work for them. "
Her words were powerful. Her words were something he hadn't realized he needed to hear.
"Thank you Milah," he says as he opens the door, "for everything." It's only his first session but just talking it out, venting, crying and receiving validation did wonders and only made him look forward to the next session. He only has one session under his belt but he can already tell Erin was right, he can feel it in his bones, as long as he stays open and honest, this is going to work. Just as he's about to step out of her office and into the hall, Milah calls out his name, "Yes?" He turns.
"If I remember correctly, I was promised to see a picture of an adorable little girl."
Jay smiles, and without any hesitation, he reaches into his back pocket to pull out his phone. He likes his therapist, he thought the first session would feel awkward, he thought it would take multiple sessions before he feels comfortable enough to talk, yet he spoke in the majority of today's session and has no regrets about it. He figures that's why she's good, that's why she has the degrees hanging up around her office, she knows how to warm her clients up, to relax them and meet them where they are, she really excels in building rapport. Jay taps into the photo app, and realizes that the majority of his pictures consist of Emma, either solo or with him or Erin. He taps on the one nearest to his thumb and hands the phone over, "You can swipe."
Milah nods at the permission given and oohs and ahhs at the sight of his daughter, "She's absolutely gorgeous," Jay beams at the compliment, "how old is she?"
"…a few days short of five weeks."
"Oh, she's still so new to this world! I can see the resemblance between you two."
"Wait until you see her mother," he cracks, and pockets his phone once Milah is done, "they're practically twins, she just has a feature or two from my side of the family."
"She's absolutely precious, she's a lucky girl to have a dad so head over heels for her."
"I think I'm the lucky one," he walks alongside her to the waiting room, "she's the best thing that has happened to me in a really long time," he beats her to the door to push it open for her.
"Thank you, Jay," she walks through it, and he follows behind her, "I look forward to seeing you next week and hearing more about that precious little angel of yours." She goes left and he goes right, heading towards the exit, ruminating over his first official session. It wasn't so bad, and a large part of him is mad at himself for waiting so late and so long to enroll in therapy. This was good. This was needed. And he could already feel that this was eventually going to work.