"You have to go back to work. I promise I'll call you, you know, if I meltdown or something, but I promise I'm okay." Liz had spent the last twenty minutes reassuring Kathleen that life needed to go on. Liz already felt like she was struggling with the feeling of constantly being watched—constantly being worried over. She felt like her emotions made no sense. One minute she wanted to curl up in a ball and die alone, but the next she felt like she needed someone right next to her. The inconsistencies were maddening.
"Okay. I'll call you when my shift is over." Kathleen promised.
"Sounds good."
"Love you."
"Love you too," Lizzie responded.
She finally hung up the call and leaned her head back against the headrest of the passenger seat of her dad's truck. She carelessly tossed her phone into the nearest cup holder and closed her eyes.
Her dad remained silent, and she couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing. It felt like no one could do anything right, so his silence just made her angry.
As if he sensed the sudden mood change, he asked, "I can tell her to back off a little if it helps."
"To be honest, Dad, I have no idea what I want anymore," she couldn't control her terse tone. She didn't want to snap at him. Maybe she was nervous about therapy. Maybe she hated that her entire life had been turned upside down, and any sense of control she once had was long gone. Maybe she was just pissed at the world, and her dad happened to be the closet person at the moment.
Her dad nodded silently, and from the look on his face, she knew he was trying to string together the right words. It felt weird. Part of her knew her dad had extensive experience working with SA victims, but she had never been on the receiving end of her father's careful thoughts.
"I'm not going to patronize you, Lizzie." His eyes remained on the road. "I might not understand exactly what you are going through, but I worked at SVU long enough to know that you need to regain some control of your environment. That's why I'm asking, okay? I'm not trying to do anything but help you in whatever way you need."
"Sorry, Dad. I just. I wish I knew what I wanted. I feel like one minute I want something, and the next minute it's the last thing I want. And Katie going to work makes my stomach hurt because I renewed my contract with the charter school last week, and I have a little more than a week to start prep meetings for the school year." She tried blinking away her tears, but they still found a way to escape from the corners of her eyes. "How am I supposed to just go to work? How am I supposed to be the teacher those kids need if I can barely get out of bed in the morning?"
He sighed. "I don't know, baby. Let's just get through today. One day at a time."
She nodded and dropped her gaze to her hands, hands that still sported painfully short, nail-polish chipped nails. She had a thought.
"Dad? After this appointment, do you... could you help me find a manicurist?" She felt stupid even asking, but she was trying to let people help her, and the nails were a small thing, but the chipped peach polish was just a constant reminder of what happened. She felt frustrated that even the idea of setting a nail appointment made her want to cry.
One day at a time. One thing at a time.
He smiled gently, a smile that felt comforting. Familiar. Affectionate. Most of all, his smile reminded her of a time when she was safe and her dad was able to vanquish any monsters that crossed her path.
"I can do that. Is there a specific place you want to go?" She knew he was completely clueless, but it was endearing that he was trying anyway.
"Uh, no. I don't really want to go to the last place. It's just," she shuddered. "Nevermind. I just don't want to go there again. Maybe Liv has a place? I mean, she probably goes somewhere nice that wouldn't have an appointment available last minute, but I don't know. Just anywhere is probably fine."
"Okay," he said as he flipped his blinker in preparation for parking in the garage to their left. They must be at the psychologist's office. Her stomach tumbled uncomfortably, but she fought through it. She had to do this. She needed to do this. She wasn't going to let what happened steal her entire life from her, and in order to do that, she needed to see someone. Someone who could help her work through this. Someone who could help her find herself again.
"We're here," her dad said as he searched for a parking spot. "I'll make a couple calls while you are in there."
"You'll stay in the waiting room, right?" It was stupid to have him sitting there for an hour when he probably had a thousand other things he could do, but the thought of him being on the other side of the door alleviated some of the nausea churning in her stomach.
"Of course. I might need to step into the hall so I don't bother anybody in the waiting room, but I'll stay right there." He reached for her hand and rubbed his rough thumb over her scraped-up knuckles. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll be right where you need me."
She felt more pesky tears trying to escape her now overactive tear ducts. She was so damn tired of crying. Her eyes were probably going to be permanently red and puffy. "I... I love you, Dad."
He reached up and wiped one of the stray tears away from her cheek. "I love you too, baby."
-000-
Elliot——Olivia
E: Do you know any good manicurists?
O: I don't think there is anything anyone can do about your nails, El. They are probably beyond hope.
E: Ha. Ha. You are so funny.
E: Lizzie wants to get her nails done. I think, well, you know, they are a mess, and I think she doesn't want the reminder.
O: I know a couple places.
E: I think she wants something this afternoon. It's the first thing she's actually asked me to do unprompted. I have to deliver on this.
O: I'll call a couple places. I've been seeing the same woman for years now. I can pull a couple strings and see if she can sneak her in.
E: Thanks.
O: Is she with the psychologist now?
E: Yeah. She just got in.
E: Why am I so nervous?
O: Because therapy is hard, and you know it's hard, and she's your baby, and you don't want to hurt more than she's already hurting.
E: Hit the nail on the head.
O: You think about seeing anyone again?
E: Honestly? No. Not because it's a bad idea; I just haven't had a minute to consider the idea. I can deal with my shit later. Maybe after we get her a little more... I don't know. Stable?
O: You need to take care of yourself too.
E: I know that, but I can't even think about what I need. I've screwed up so much. I've been selfish and stupid, and it hurt her. I don't want to take anything from her.
O: Taking an hour or two won't hurt anything. You know that.
E: I know. Maybe I'm not ready for what I would have to work through.
O: More reason to do it. I'm seeing someone at the end of the week.
E: Yeah?
O: This, all of this brought up a lot for me.
E: I'm sorry. I wish… I wish I could have changed things.
O: Set an appointment. See someone. I need you to figure out how to help with this without blaming yourself. What happened to her or to me wasn't your fault.
E: I'm not sure I can believe that.
O: My point exactly. Call someone, Elliot, please?
E: Yeah. Okay. I'll figure it out.
E: Let me know about the nail appointment.
O: I will. I got your back, Stabler.
E: You always have.
-000-
Kathleen pressed her hand into her stomach as she followed her new therapist into her office. The other woman opened the door and waited for Liz to step in first before closing the door behind them. She moved to a chair near a tastefully decorated desk.
Lizzie took in her surroundings. She suspected the place had been decorated in a deliberate way. She noticed the obvious absence of clutter that often littered the shelves or desks of many professionals.
The walls were a neutral white, but not the stark, sterile white that coated the walls of most hospitals. It was more of a pearly sort of white. It was subtle, but the color definitely had a feeling of peace and calm without the obvious kitschy ocean trinkets some therapists laid strageixly around. The simple, non-stimulating environment began to settle the overwhelming churning of her stomach.
Once her therapist was seated, she motioned to a couch across from her. "You are welcome to sit. The couch or the chair are fine, but if you feel more comfortable standing, that is fine too."
Liz almost laughed. The couch would obviously be more comfortable, but she also acknowledged the possibility of other patients having a touchy flight reflex for whatever was discussed in this room.
She nodded and opted for the couch directly across from the chair where her new therapist sat. She pulled her legs beneath herself, trying to find some sort of comfortable position, but part of her still felt very exposed, so she tightened her arms around herself.
"As you know, I'm Dr. Madden, but you can call me Jamie if you want. Whatever feels most natural, okay?"
Liz tried a weak smile and nodded. "Okay," she all but whispered.
"And you're Elizabeth, but Olivia said you mostly go by Liz?"
Lizzie nodded her head. "Yeah. I'm Liz 90% of the time. My family calls me Lizzie a lot, but I'm Liz to most people." She wasn't sure why she shared that random tidbit of information. God, she was nervous.
"Great," Jamie said with a warm smile. "Today is just going to be a get to know you sort of session. Nothing crazy, okay?"
"Okay," Liz responded.
"As weird as it feels right now, I want you to understand that I'm here to help. You are ultimately in charge of where our conversations go. I don't expect you to trust me immediately, and that's normal and okay. If at any point you don't think we are a good fit, let me know. It won't hurt my feelings. I have other people I can recommend." She smiled again. "Like any other relationship, compatibility is important, and I want you to feel safe and seen."
"Okay."
"Good." She pulled a yellow pad out of her top drawer and a pen. "I'm only going to use this today, and I'll never write down anything you don't want. I like to take notes on the first day so I can remember some of the broad things we talk about."
That made Liz feel better. She was not sure she ever wanted her darkest moments to see the light of day, and the idea of them sitting on a pad of paper on a desk felt...heavy.
Liz nodded, and Jamie asked her first question. "Why don't you tell me about who brought you today?"
"My dad." The answer was simple, and Liz wasn't sure if she should elaborate or anything.
"Good. I'm happy he's here to support you. I know it's going to be difficult, but your support system will be really important right now."
"Yeah. I guess my support system is kind of... large." She chuckled a little. "My dad isn't the only one wanting to help, and the idea of everyone jumping in feels really overwhelming."
"Understandable. Sometimes too many people can be too much. Particularly for those of us who like their lives to be a little more private. Do you want to tell me more about 'everyone'?"
"Sure. I guess you should probably know that I'm a twin."
"Oh? Brother or sister?"
"Brother," Lizzie answered.
"Are you close?"
"Yes and no. I'm closer with my sister, who's just older than me. Kathleen."
"Okay, so Kathleen is a little older than you. What's your brother's name?"
"Richard. Rich. Dickie if I want to annoy him." She smiled. "It was his childhood nickname, and he hates it."
Jamie grinned. "Sounds like you like to annoy him sometimes."
Lizzie shrugged. "Sometimes. I love him. He's my brother, my twin, but he... I guess you could say he needs to be taken down a couple pegs sometimes."
"So, he had a more dominant personality?"
"Is that the nice way of saying he can be an asshole? Then yes."
Jamie laughed out loud. "Well, I wasn't going to say it outright."
Liz shook her head with a smile. "It's okay; he knows he's an ass, but he really is a good guy."
"I bet." Jamie seemed sincere in her reassurances, and it compelled Liz to elaborate further.
"He's always been a bit of a pain in the ass, and I'm one of five kids, so I always just sort of tried to be 'the good one', or something."
Jamie's eyes widened subtly at the number of kids, but not in an offensive way. Liz had encountered more than her fair share of bad birth control jokes. "You're right when you say that your support system is a little large." She wrote down a few notes. "Olivia was the one who set your appointment. Obviously she sends clients my way frequently, but she hasn't ever set up an appointment personally. Do you mind if I ask how she figures into everything?"
She almost laughed out loud. This poor woman had no clue how complicated the question she just asked was. She decided to give the standard answer and tabled the complicated nature of it all for a later day. "She...she was my dad's partner for a long time. Twelve or thirteen years I think."
"Oh, so she watched you grow up."
"Yeah. Liv was... not really a second mother." That was not expressly true. Liv was her second mother, but she struggled to say it out loud. Even all these years later, it felt like a betrayal to her own mother. "More like an aunt, I guess."
Jamie didn't question Lizzie's hesitance, and she appreciated it. "She's always been there when we need her, and when…when all this happened." She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "She was the only person I thought to call."