Chapter 3

"I am so sorry. I know I'm late again." Christine muttered, flopping down into the over stuffed easy chair and dropping her purse on the floor. Jacob Nelsons' office was decorated in an almost Amish meets the Jetsons way. The ornate abstract artwork hanging on the wall was in direct contrast with the braided rug under the plaid overstuffed armchairs. Christine, sitting quietly in her customary place near the door, looked around the room curiously, as she did every time she was here. She was mildly disturbed by the stuffed deer head with the baseball cap hanging over the cast bronze sculpture.

Jacob looked up from his computer screen and caught Christine's gaze. His crystalline blue eyes always made her feel as though he could read her thoughts. 'Give it up. He's a God and you're a toad.' her inner voice scoffed. She blushed mildly and averted her eyes.

"Well, I see you're still having trouble with punctuality." his voice was a clear baritone, which seemed out of place coming from him. Jacob was an athletic man of about 35, of average height and build, with long straight black hair he always kept pulled back. Not your typical shrink by any means. The only thing that seemed out of proportion was his voice. When Chris had called originally for an appointment almost a year ago, she had guessed from his voice he would be another Freud wannabe at about 50 years old. She never expected this.

"Jake, I said I'm sorry. My mother called this morning and kept me on the phone for a while. I tried to get through all my...stuff.. fast enough, but..." she sighed deeply and made a dismissing motion with her hands. "I don't know what else to say."

"Chris, don't worry about it. I was kidding. Do you think it's really that big a deal?"

"I don't know. I mean you have appointments and all. I'm not your only client. When I'm late it makes everyone else run late."

"Actually no it doesn't. Chris you've been coming here for almost a year and not once have you been on time. I have Joan set your appointments 15 minutes off from everyone elses." He flashed his charming grin that made Chris feel giggly inside. "So technically you're 5 minutes early."

"oh yeah?" she couldn't help grin back at him. He had this look about him that seemed to speak to her inner child and ask if it wanted to go play tag. "So do I get a discount on my therapy then for being early?"

He laughed heartily and suddenly stopped, complete seriousness crossing his face. "No." he said flatly. She stared at him, not sure what to make of his sudden seriousness, but he winked at her and gave her a grin that told her he was playing around. "So, you're mom called huh?"

"Yeah. And, of course I had to get cranky with her. I don't know why I can't seem to deal with her anymore. I didn't mean to get pissy, but.."

"Chris, you don't have to justify your feelings. You have the right to feel what ever you do. You and she don't exactly have a Brady Bunch relationship." he said, getting up from behind his desk and moving to the armchair directly across from her. She watched his graceful movements and decided that he should have been a dancer instead of a shrink.

"Tell me something I don't know." she muttered, pulling her cigarettes out of her purse. Jake handed her an ashtray and sat quietly while she fidgeted with her lighter, waiting for her to continue. Chris liked this guy. He was a good doctor and a nice person to boot. He never made her feel like she was sub-par because of her issues. He had told her on her first visit when she had made a comment about not being able to smoke, that unlike other therapists, he allowed smoking in his office. When he noticed her confused look, he had said that it was more stressful for her to sit there talking about her problems while wanting a smoke then it was for him to sit there and listen while she smoked. She liked that. It made her feel understood for once.

"well, she was her typical bitchy high and mighty self. It was classic. She just had to put me down a little more. Guess I was low on my daily ration of BS." she continued, lighting her cigarette and leaning back in her chair.

"And... How did that make you feel? Don't hold back now, tell me your feelings on your mother." he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She glanced at him and chuckled.

"you're crazier then I am ya know."She said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, mimicking him. "You didn't actually just say that did you?" she smiled.

"Yes I did." he said. "And you know Crazy isn't a term we use here." His tone was so controlled, the whole conversation seemed comical to Chris. "Sanity Challenged is much more politically correct." He flashed that grin, and she laughed at him.

"ok ok. Who's shrinking who's head here?" she chuckled. "Am I gonna have to take your job?" "only if you're REALLY insane." he said. "But, me being the professional here, I don't deem you insane enough to have my job." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "But seriously, we had decided to touch on your childhood a bit this week, remember?" Christine sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know, I'd rather just chit chat too, but that's not why we're her Chris. We need to get you straightened out."

"I know Jake. I know. And I want to get better. I'm just not too anxious to rehash old crap ya know?" she replied, putting out her cigarette, listening to the inner voice muttering at her. 'Here we go. Bring it all out into the open so he can see how crazy you really are. Bring out all the gory details so he can have you committed to the nut house.'

"Is there a point you'd feel more comfortable starting with?" he asked quietly. "Teen years maybe? Or early childhood? I'll let you decide where the best place is."

"well, so much has happened. I'm not even sure where to start. How about you pick an age and I'll start talking?"

"OK. how about.." he paused while he thought. "How about age five? Can you remember that far back?"

"I'm not that old Jake." she chuckled. "Yeah I suppose we can talk about age five. Not a lot happened really."

"Well what kind of stuff do you remember?"

"I remember getting a nasty cut on my knee."

"Ouch, how'd that happen?" he asked, leaning forward to give her his total attention. "Well I was outside playing with the neighbor kids, and one thought it would be funny to chase me around with a night crawler worm. I ran and fell on the corner of a cinder block and tore my knee open." she shrugged. "that's about it really."

"Wow. Did you need stitches or anything? What did the other kids do when you fell?" "I probably should have had stitches, but no I didn't get any. My parents thought it was best to not take me for them, seeing I was so young and probably only needed 3 at the most anyway. My dad held me down while mom cleaned out the wound with Iodine and slapped a Band-Aid on it."

"Yikes.. Iodine." he cringed. "that had to hurt."

"Yeah it burned like a bitch. I was screaming and crying and kicking. Dad had a hell of a time holding onto me." she replied sarcastically, lighting another cigarette. "But as for the other kids, they just laughed and pointed as I sat there screaming and bleeding. My dad heard me scream and came out to see what had happened. He picked me up and carried me in, after yelling at the other kids for not trying to help me."

"Your dad sounds like a good guy." he smiled at her.

"He is. I can honestly say I love my father. Mom on the other hand.. I don't know. She and I have never gotten along very well."

"I see. So you're a daddy's girl huh?"

"Yeah I am, and proud of it." she grinned, sitting up straight and pointing her nose to the ceiling. He laughed at the gesture.

"Anything else happen when you were five?"

Relaxing back into the chair, Christine thought for a few minutes, blowing smoke up at the ceiling and picking at her fingernails. Jake noticed her picking her fingernails and recognized it as one of her nervous tics.

"What are you thinking about Chris? You're picking."

"I am?" She looked down and noticed she was. "well so I am. Eh well I was remembering my uncle bob and his touchy feely issue he had." she spoke slowly and sacrcastically. "Is that something you want to talk about?" Jake asked cautiously.

"I don't really care." She shrugged. She reached over and put out her cigarette. Looking up, she locked eyes with Jake. "What do you want to know?" she asked flatly. Jake recognized this as another of her defenses. She'd get very cold and distant, emotionless and serious. "well, what do you mean when you say 'touchy feely issues'?" he ventured. "What do you think I mean Jake?" she snapped, getting up from the chair and pacing the room. "He liked to touch little girls. He was a sick twisted pervert that liked to make you think you wanted him to do it." she growled, pacing faster and glaring at the stuffed deer head. "I see." he said quietly, watching her pace. "What did he do or say to make you think you wanted it?"

"He'd say how big I was and how pretty. How he loved me and that he only loved to play with good little girls. That if I was bad he'd tell my daddy and that my daddy wouldn't love me anymore and that he'd be the only one that would always love me. Just a bunch of stupid shit that I believed."

"Christine, you were a child. Children trust adults. It wasn't your fault, it was his. You responded normally to the situation. He was the sick one."

She heaved a sarcastic chuckle and stopped pacing. "Jake, I've heard all that before, I've read all the abuse survivor books. I know what you're saying is right logically, but my inner demons won't shut up and let me heal."

"inner demons? You mean that inner voice you told me about? Or something new?"

"No, the same thing I told you about. That nagging voice in the back of my head that shoots me down all the time. It tells me that the books are wrong. If I really didn't like what Bob did, then I'd have told someone or made it stop. I didn't so I must have liked it." her lip quivered as a tear slid down her cheek. She looked Jake in the eye and realized she'd said much more then she had planned on. One of the things she and Jake had been working on was to redirect her control issues to something more positive, instead of the self destructive eating disorder and internal sabotage she had been using to punish herself. She wasn't sure how positive this was, her giving him so much knowledge about her was like handing over control to him. She trusted him, but only as far as she trusted anyone. She totally trusted that he'd try to hurt her like everyone else had.

Jake saw the look cross her face that said to him "I said too much". He stood up and reached for a tissue. Christine stood stone still, watching him move a step near her and reach out with the tissue. She took it, careful to avoid actual skin contact with his hand, and wiped her eyes, angry with herself for being so weak. 'Now he's starting to see what an idiot you really are.' the inner voice scoffed. 'You're another step closer to the loony bin and the white coats with the super long sleeves.'

"Chris, it's OK to cry ya know. It doesn't make me think any less of you that you have real feelings." his voice was soft and soothing. "you're reacting in a perfectly normal manner Chris."

"Normal? If I was normal I wouldn't be here now would I?" she snapped, throwing the tissue into the trash and grabbing her cigarettes. Lighting one, she slammed her lighter on the table, turned around and glared at him. "Jake, have you ever been where I am? Have you ever stopped eating to try to kill yourself slowly because you don't deserve to take a bullet in the head and end it quickly? Can you get through a single day without washing your hands 50 times until they bleed because you can't see if there are any germs on them?" her body shook as she ranted.

"No Chris, I haven't. I'm sorry. I wish I could say yes honestly, so you'd know someone understood, but I can't. All I can do is listen and try to help you through it."

She sat down on the chair, resting her elbows on her knees and looking up at him. He looked sincerely concerned for her. He hadn't scoffed or given her the oh my god you're sick look. He simply listened without judgment and offered sound advice. 'Don't even go there you moron. You trust him and you will be locked up quicker then shit." her inner voice seemed to echo in her ears.

"Chris, have you been taking your meds regularly like we discussed?" he asked, sitting across from her.

"Sorta." she whispered, looking down at her hands and twirling the cigarette butt in her fingers. "I try to remember, but sometimes I forget."

"You need to try to remember them Chris. They will help if you give them a chance. Did you write up that trial menu we talked about?"

"No. I forgot to. I don't even see what good it would do Jake. I can write out what I think I should eat every day but it doesn't make me eat it."

"Of course it doesn't. But it can serve as a visual reminder of what you are working towards. What did you eat today? Anything yet?" concern edging his voice. She knew that he had a legal obligation to commit her to a psycho ward if she didn't start eating at least a little bit. He had told her weeks ago that he didn't want to do that, and she believed him.

"No, I haven't eaten yet. I had just gotten up when mom called and got me so annoyed my ulcer started acting up again. I'll try to eat a little something later when I get home." she sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. 'Look at you, all puffy eyed and snot nosed. What must he think of you? God you make me sick.'

"Have you been trying the Pepcid to help your stomach?" he asked, looking at his watch and grimacing. "Looks like our time is almost up. Chris I would like it if you'd come in more often then once a week. We have a lot to do to get you healed. If I have Joan set you up with every other day, will you make it a point to come in?" he asked, locking eyes with her. She looked away and sighed.

"You think I'm losing it don't you?" she asked, crushing out her cigarette and putting the pack in her purse.

"Chris, you're not 'losing' anything. I'm worried about you. Especially with the revelation of why you think you're anorexic. I'd be lying if I said it didn't worry me." She looked at him and saw sincerity on his face. No charming smile, no sideways glance. Just sincerity. She mentally stepped back and caught her breath. 'Why does he care? You're not worth caring about.'

She blinked furiously and looked over at the deer head. "You know, he looks like he was killed during a tailgate party Jake. You could take the cap off him and give him a little dignity." she chuckled.

"Chris, he was shot at a tailgate party. One of the other bucks saw him make a move on his doe." she looked back at him, surprised by his words. "Don't avoid the question Chris. Will you come in three times a week if Joan can set it up?"

"She smiled and sniffled. "Yes Jake I will make it a point to come in."

"Thank you. I'll have Joan call you at home with the schedule OK?" he asked, getting up and stepping toward the door. Chris got up and stepped toward the door he was opening for her. "Yes that's fine Jake. See ya soon." she whispered, walking out of the office. She turned to look at him before stepping out into the early afternoon sun. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." she said quickly, turning and leaving the office before he could respond.