studied her for a moment. “Why didn’t you just get off the train at an earlier stop? That would’ve solved your problem instantly.”
“I told you, I didn’t want Ford to know about the panic attacks.”
“Why not?”
She exhaled. Always so many questions. “It doesn’t matter. Ford and I aren’t seeing each other anymore. I ended things Monday night.” She pointed. “Go ahead. I’ll wait while you write that down in your notebook.” Patient shows zero progress and continues to be a general pain in the ass.
She pictured him stamping the top of her file with one word written in red ink: hopeless.
But instead, Dr. Metzel held her gaze. “Why did you end things with Ford?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“I think you do. You didn’t have to tell me you weren’t seeing him anymore.”
She paused at that. This whole week she’d been trying to cover up the fact that something was off. And, frankly, it was getting a little exhausting.
Dr. Metzel slid his chair closer to hers and leaned forward earnestly, resting his arms on his knees. “I know you see me as the enemy here, Victoria. But believe it or not, I really do want to help you. And I think I can help you. If you’ll let me.”
She shook her head, knowing that opening this door would mean saying things out loud that she didn’t even want to acknowledge to herself. “I can’t have these kinds of feelings for Ford.”
“Why not?” Dr. Metzel pressed.
She met his gaze. “Because I can’t need anyone that way.” She saw him waiting for her to continue. Fine. She’d go there, just this once. “You asked how I felt that day when I came home and found my mother unconscious. At first, while I was waiting for the ambulance, there was mostly shock and fear and a lot of promises that if she pulled through, I’d be strong enough for the both of us from that point forward.”
You’re going to be fine, Mom. I’ll take care of you. Just please, please don’t leave me, okay?
Victoria cleared her throat, needing a moment to fight back the prickling sensation in her eyes.
“But when we got to the hospital, after I watched as they wheeled her off on a gurney, there wasn’t anything I could do except wait. And sitting there, all I kept thinking was that she’d wanted to leave me. My own mother. And that realization was so much worse than anything I’d felt when my father had left, because she didn’t bother to say good-bye. Didn’t even leave me a note.”
She met Dr. Metzel’s eyes. “You asked before if I was angry with her. I wasn’t angry—I felt betrayed. I was ten years old at the time, and she was all I had left. What the hell did she think would happen to me if she’d died? Did she even think about that?”
“Did you ask her that?”
“Sure, because that’s all she needed: more guilt. I couldn’t ask her; I was terrified that if I made a wrong move she’d relapse. So instead, I did what I promised I’d do if she pulled through: I sucked it up and stayed strong, for the both of us.” She set her hands in her lap. “I realize now, as an adult, that my mother’s suicide attempt had nothing to do with me—it was a product of her depression. And I also think that she deliberately chose to take those pills before I came home because, deep down, she wanted to be found. She wanted help.” Victoria’s voice turned quieter. “But I remember how it felt sitting in that hospital waiting room, all by myself. I remember the pain of being abandoned by someone I loved more than anything. Someone I thought would never leave me.
“Every day, I see the hurt on people’s faces as their relationships fall apart. So I ask them what they need to be able to move on, and then I fight as hard as I can to get them those things. But what I never tell my clients is that I know what they’re going through. I know the rejection and the hurt and the fear that grips you by the throat when you realize that you’re going to have to get by on your own, but have no fucking clue how to do that.” She looked Dr. Metzel in the eyes. “So here’s my question for you, Doctor: knowing that kind of pain, and having lived through it once, why on