CHAPTER 7
*PRESENT*
“Tell me about your wife”
Aaron
After the conversation with Maya, my stomach felt antsy and my shoulders were tense. I passed a hand over my face and breathed deeply.
My job was to help people in need, people who needed help with their mental health, but I was not able to help my own wife.
Of course, we didn’t treat people who had bonds with us, but we needed to find some solutions. My wife was getting further and further away.
I was not happy that she was working on that case, but I also needed to support her decisions. It helped that she didn’t choose it knowingly, in a way. I still wanted to go to her boss and demand him to remove her from the case.
I parked my car, grabbed my briefcase, and got out, closing the door with more strength than I should.
I breathed deeply again.
I couldn’t enter the building, couldn’t see my patients like this.
I couldn’t help them like this.
After a couple of deep breaths, I continued to the building.
I sat in my office after saying hello to the employees and volunteers who were already there, giving directions on what to expect today.
Yesterday, I ordered some donuts and pizzas after hearing of us winning, but today, the day needed to continue as usual.
I turned on the computer and looked at the photo next to it: Maya and me at the beach five years ago. She was wearing some flowy dress and my jacket. That day was very windy. I had my arm around her shoulder, and she hugged my midsection, smiling at the camera with small eyes due to the sun.
Even though it was not the best day to go to the beach because of the weather, we had a lot of fun; we talked, read next to each other, and had a little picnic. She told me that the ocean reminded her of my eyes.
That day, the sea was the deepest blue I had ever seen. I remembered raising a brow while she blushed.
I knew it didn’t come easy for her to express her feelings, saying loving, moving things, but when we were the two of us together, she opened up more easily.
I didn’t take it for granted when she opened up.
A knock on the door took me out of that day.
“Come on in,”
I said while Dominique opened the door.
“Lucas has come in early. He’s in the waiting room,”
my secretary said.
“By early, do you mean almost eight hours early? Isn’t he supposed to be in high school?”
I asked, rising from my chair. She nodded. “Can you delay my next session for twenty minutes?”
“Sure, I will call them. Do you want me to bring him in?”
“No, I will. Thank you.”
I walked the hall until I spotted Lucas with his head low and sank into the chair, legs spread.
“Hi! You came in early.”
He didn’t look from the floor.
“They forced me to come here,”
he sulked.
“Who?” I asked.
“The council.”
“Come into the office.”
He followed me and sat in my office.
He usually chose the sofa. It was decorated with big fluffy pillows that he usually liked to throw in the air while talking.
This time, he chose to be seated in the chair that was in front of my desk. I didn’t prefer this place because it reminded me of the Headmaster’s office or a doctor’s appointment. No one had a lot of good associations with either.
I sat on my desk chair in silence, drinking some water.
“Do you want something to drink?”
I asked. He shook his head and kept silent, so I followed his lead.
“I know that you are disappointed and—”
he started.
“I don’t know why you are here so early. You’re always on time, but you made a record this time. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“You want my version?”
he inquired defensively.
“Of course, but honestly, I have no idea what happened. I got here less than half an hour ago. No one has called me or come by.”
“Well, I’m suspended for a week,”
he said matter-of-factly, raising and lowering his shoulders. His tense jawline and the tightly clenched fists gave him away. I tried to keep my face blank.
“I see. That’s the result, but what happened?”
“I might have punched someone,”
he said, trying to be casual as he played with the pens on my desk, while we both knew he wasn’t a violent kid.
“Who?”
I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“You’re going to be mad,”
he sang, fake humor in his voice.
“That bad, huh?”
He kept silent. “We can talk about something else or not talk at all.”
He kept silent.
I looked at the photo next to my desk. He needed space.
“Is it true your wife lived in the trailer park?”
he asked, I looked up and found him deep in thought, looking at the picture of my wife.
“Well, yes, she did,”
I replied.
“I thought it was a lie,”
Lucas said.
“She lived there for many years. The trailer park was not like it is today, though.”
“Because she gave money to get it changed?”
“She helped it change. Why are you so curious about my wife?”
I questioned, trying to change the subject.
“Everyone keeps telling me that I can change my future, that I should try to be more like her, that she got out of the trailer park, and that I can, too.”
It was the first time he’d said more than a few words since he came in, so I followed his lead.
“You can change your future if you want, but it must not feel very nice to be compared to her all the time.”
“I have seen her; she dresses like one of the fancy lawyers on TV. She seems a little harsh, rude, and bossy. You two seem very different,”
he challenged me.
I decided that was enough of what I wanted him to know about us.
“What they are trying to do by putting her as an example is only making you resent her. You should try to meet her; maybe you will realize that you two have more in common than you think.”
“Like what?”
“That’s something only you two can know. Have you tried to explain to them that you hate being compared all the time?”
“Why would I?”
“Because that way, you set your limits. Whether they decide to step on them or not, it would be their problem.”
“Yes, I remember when we talked about that.”
“Great. Do you not like what we talked about?”
“It’s just that … why do I have to constantly tell people what I hate? Is it not common sense?
“Common sense doesn’t work how you think. We all come from different places, cultures, and families; for some, common sense means one thing, and for others, something different. They may think that putting her as an example would help you realize that you can achieve what you want; for them, they might be helping you. It all depends on the person. It’s paramount that we try to communicate as best as possible with each other to try to minimize possible misunderstandings. And if you talk with them and they still step on your limits, then you have the evidence that these people don’t respect your boundaries, and you can choose whether or not to have them in your life.”
After that speech, he kept silent again and kept looking at the photo of Maya on my desk. I wanted to reach over and put it face down.
What is he trying to find by looking at it?
It was hard to put a limit on what to say about my own life with my patients, because most of them had heard something in regard to me or my family.
Small-town problems.
The gossip spread widely, and the kids especially didn’t have any filter to find out if what they heard was correct or not. Not that the adults had much to start with. It didn’t help that they knew a lot about my family.
Today, I was a little out of my body and wasn’t the best at explaining or being helpful, which made me feel even worse because my patients still needed my assistance.
“I hit Gregg Thompson.”
His voice brought me back. He was still looking at the picture. “The butcher’s son.”
I knew who he was from the past.
He raised his face to look at me. I kept a blank face, waiting for him to continue.
“He had a party last weekend and…”
He stopped talking. “Let’s say something bad could have happened.”
“To you?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter to whom, but he was an ass, and he was not sorry about it. In fact, he kept bragging about it, and I had enough, so I hit him. Hard.”
“I see. You think it justifies what you did for what he did?”
“Of course, you wouldn’t understand it. You have never been in a fight.”
“You would be surprised,”
I said, reclining myself in my chair.
“You have?”
he asked, surprised.
“Many years ago.”
“Were you sorry?”
I shook my head. “And now?”
“Still no.”
He seemed surprised.
“Then you understand me.”
“I can understand that sometimes one wants to get justice with his own hands, but I can tell you that most of the time, that doesn’t end well,”
I advised him.
“Well, it’s more times than justice has been served by the law,”
he spoke out.
I decided to avoid the subject.
“Would you do it again, knowing you would end up suspended?”
“I would.”
“Do you know if he will charge you for it?”
“I—I don’t know,”
he doubted, showing once again that he wasn’t as nonchalant about it as he tried to show.
“If he does, you are going to need a lawyer. You can contact one of the ones that work with us.”
“That’s it?” he asked.
“I know you, Lucas. You know what you did is wrong, but you also think whatever happened at the party was worse. You have done petty things that were never violent; you are not a violent person. So, you need to get ready for whatever is going to happen. If the Thompsons decide to charge you for it, then you will have people testifying about what happened, and you will need a lawyer. If they don’t, you would only be expelled and it would appear in your record unless the principal decides to erase it, which I think is very unlikely because you have some other stuff on it.”
“Be blunt about it, would you? You didn’t even stutter.”
“You disagree?”
I challenged him.
“No, I don’t. I already know all of it.”
“Good.”
“Do you think your wife can help me with it? You say we need to work more together.”
“My wife’s very busy right now. I don’t think she can, but we have more lawyers working with us.”
“Your wife’s the best, from what I have heard. Can you talk about me to her just in case? I would need all the help that I can, Mr. Willow. They have a fucking mansion. Tell her to help her friends, those who don’t live in a fucking mansion like she does now.”
I shook my head.
“No offense, you were raised with diamond spoons, but she understands better.”
It was not even close to being one of the worst things that people could say about me being born rich. I was used to it, clients pointing out that I didn’t know how they were feeling because I had never been hungry and never had to decide between paying rent or food.
I knew that, and that’s why the NGO tried to help them have a better life—less to worry about, a little nest to fall if things fell apart. But there were always more and more people in need, people with bigger problems, and sometimes there were not enough hands to help them fall softly.
So, yeah, I knew that I was one of the luckiest out there, and sometimes, my own insecurity spoke to me at night, mocking me for trying to help people who were going through things that I had never gone through, pointing out my faults not only as a professional, but as a human being.
“I will talk with her, but for now, try to get in as little trouble as possible; you can come here and help us with some stuff if you have too much free time instead of deciding to spend it in not the healthiest way.”
“Sure.”
He was smirking now.
There was a big story that he didn’t want to tell me about yet, but that was okay. There was still time, and if he needed more help, he needed to tell us more so we could help him.
The rest of the session continued as usual. He didn’t talk much about anything, keeping things very superficial, but at least he seemed to be in a better mood. I needed to call his principal to see the punishment and try to find him something to do during these days.
He didn’t talk about his family or whether he was scared of their reactions. His family was not very involved and, most of the time, left him for weeks by himself.
They were hard working but didn’t pay their son much attention. He was always acting up, trying to get a reaction out of them because he thought it was unfair that his parents worked that much and hardly met their ends when some classmates went to class in expensive cars.
There had always been a big gap between classmates at The Darlington Academy. We lived in a small town where some houses cost more than nine figures, and some were in uninhabitable conditions.
Maya had talked about this for years.
For many years, she wanted to leave town and never come back.
She changed her mind after we lived abroad for a little while. We both decided that we could make it work, living in the town where we met and grew up, being closer to our family. We missed them so much when we were gone.
After a long day at work, I packed my things and left for home. Knowing that Maya was coming late today, I spent more hours in the office, trying to get ahead of my to-do list.
My body seemed more relaxed than this morning, but that might have been because of my tiredness. I wanted a hot shower, some delicious dinner, and to snuggle with my wife. The last would be hard, but maybe in the late hours of the night.
***
After a hot shower and making some soup, I sat in front of the TV with the sci-fi novel that I was reading. I liked the noise of the TV while doing stuff.
Who would have thought?
It was all too silent; I was still not used to it. I loved it sometimes, but on days like this, when you felt more lonely than alone, it felt nice having the background noise.
Maya came home near midnight, the car lights lighting up the window, illuminating the book that I was reading. I was near a big plot twist; I could feel it in my bones.
She opened the door and found me on the sofa, reading, with my head raised and smiling.
“Hi, lovely wife,”
I greeted her with a grin. She made a sound of protest. “What?”
“This is so unfair,”
she said, shaking her head.
“I don’t follow you.”
I was lifting myself up when she came and stopped me. She lowered herself and kissed my lips. I put my hand on the back of her head and deepened the kiss.
“Hi,”
she said against my lips. She separated herself from me. “I need a shower.”
I kept looking at her.
“I already had one. I would have waited for you.”
“I’m sure you would,”
she joked, patting my chest.
“You still haven’t explained yourself, wife.”
“You receiving me like that. You know what you’re doing.”
“Elated to hear that I still attract my gorgeous wife.”
“Even the glasses. You are not playing fair, Willow.”
“I also made your favorite soup.”
She made a sound of protest, and I couldn’t hold back my laugh.
***
Maya came out of the shower while I laid on our bed. It was the only place where we found each other these days.
She came out with only a towel and her wet hair. I thought she “forgot”
her PJs on purpose.
She liked the way I devoured her while she picked them. It was our thing.
She knew I loved it when she got out of the shower with only a towel.
She started to change to her PJs in front of me.
“How was your day?”
I asked her.
“Very busy. Yours?”
“Same. By the way, you know Lucas Bree?”
“I think so. Why?”
“He got in trouble and told me to ask you to be his lawyer if things go south.”
“What happened?”
I explained the little that I knew.
“I see. Does the kid have a bruise or something?”
“No idea. The school doesn’t want to talk much about it, and it seems like they want to let things go, but the Thompsons are a wild card. Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. I know you’re extremely busy—”
“I can help.”
“I’m serious, Maya. You can say no; another lawyer will take the case if it goes somewhere.”
“Let me do it. I’m curious about all this.”
“Sure. The teachers I talked with told me he needs some things to do while he’s suspended. If he behaves and things go nowhere, they will erase it from his record.”
“Any idea of what to do with him?”
she asked, and I couldn’t remember a single thing. My wife was gorgeous, pretty much naked in front of me. “Maybe he needs a stronger hand. You can send him my way. I can deal with a rebellious teenager. Who knows? Maybe I can make a lawyer out of him.”
Silence.
I looked up from her legs and found her with an eyebrow raised, and a little curve on her lips.
Guilty.
“Are you sure you’re not too busy?”
“I’m sure.”