when he spotted a set of pictures on the wall opposite—in each, Dr. Durant was mid-stride, wearing bright runner’s apparel, with a number across her front.
“Banff, London, Boston, Quebec City, and San Francisco marathons,” Dr. Durant listed, noticing his interest. “And the bottom one was my first and only attempt at a triathlon. I’m not the strongest swimmer. Let’s just say it didn’t go well for me.”
Crane smiled, liking Dr. Durant’s easy manner. As he took a seat, he realized this was the first time in nearly a week that he’d spoken to anyone but Max. He caught himself trying to figure out what the woman’s hidden agenda was and had to force himself to relax. She was simply there to help… And help was something he needed.
“So, Dr. Crane, I understand you’ve taken a short leave of absence from your practice?” Dr. Durant said, opening the notebook in her lap.
“Yes. And you can call me Crane if you’d like, Dr. Durant,” he replied, nervously wiping his palms on the knees of his grey Dockers.
“All right, but only if you call me Victoria.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not privy to the details behind your leave—Julie told me only that you’d requested it. Do you want to start there?”
“Um. Sure,” he said. He’d told his boss he needed time off because Mary wanted to separate. However, the split with Mary was merely the end result of his lapse of judgment—if the depraved, gut-twisting downward spiral that had mindlessly enslaved him to Max and his own appetites could qualify as a simple “lapse of judgment.”
Victoria sat with the pen loose in her long fingers, hands in her lap on top of the notebook, her head at a slight angle and knees together… mimicking his pose. Crane wanted to laugh, but then thought it might be a bad idea because then he might cry.
I wish you would stop doing that.
Doing what?
Mimicking my posture to make me feel more at ease.
“I’m sorry?” said Victoria, her thin brows curving upwards.
“I… Did I say something?” Crane’s mouth was dry.
“You told me to ‘Shut up’,” she replied, her pale-blue eyes narrowed at him. “Are you hearing voices?”
“No. I’m sorry. I was saying it to myself. I’m overthinking this. I’m sorry, maybe this was a bad idea. I really haven’t been myself lately, and the stress of everything, you know, with Mary and with other… things…” he blathered on, wishing he could stop, “and really it’s just a matter of prioritizing…” He trailed off and grimaced.
“Would you like some water?” asked Victoria, and when Crane nodded thankfully, she left the office and came back with a chilled bottle of Fiji water and a glass. She sat and watched Crane pour some and take a few sips.
“Thank you.”
“It seems like you’re under quite a bit of stress. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I do. I’m just having a hard time picking a place to start.”
“I always say that the beginning is a good place to start,” she said, giving him another smile. However, the paranoid demon that had taken up residence in Crane’s brain pointed out that her smile was more guarded. Was she judging him? Had he frightened her?
Had Max come to see her first?
He took a deep breath, another sip of water, and forced those thoughts away.
“It’s… a patient. I find myself strongly moved by his predicament and can’t figure out a way of helping him,” he began tentatively, a plausible cover story forming in his head. “I’ve been treating a man who has found himself in a precarious situation with a younger man who is… ah… damaged.”
“Damaged?”
“Yes… I don’t know all the details, but from what my patient says, the young man has a lot of the signs of a severe personality disorder…”
“What signs?” Victoria held her pen above the page.
“I’m… I’m not sure,” he said. “Only that he’s very manipulative and lies… a lot. And seems to have absolutely no remorse.”
“And he’s taking advantage of your patient?”
“Yes… well, yes and no. It’s more like he’s bringing out latent behaviours in him. Desires he didn’t know he had. Forcing him to do all sorts of things he hates himself for afterwards.”
“What sorts of things? Are we talking about rape here?”
“Not… outright. Uh. No. No, I wouldn’t say that. I believe everything is consensual.”
“But there is a sexual component to their relationship?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re certain that the young man is taking advantage of your patient and not the other way around?”
“Yes,” he said emphatically.
“All right.” To his dismay, she didn’t look