Chapter 10
Roxanne
“So, is it true?” Lenny asks, throwing me a peculiar glare over the cards in his hand.
“What is?” I ask absentmindedly while fixing my cards.
I’ve got the worst hand imaginable, but then again, the reason for playing gin with Lenny is not to win but to make him feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s on his mind.
“That your new patient is none other than Caleb Donovan?”
“Where did you hear that?” I ask, surprised.
“People talk.”
“They do, huh?” I laugh. “I swear you, hockey players love to gossip just as much as playing with their sticks,” I tease.
“What can I tell you? There’s not much to do around here apart from gossiping.” He smiles sheepishly. “But you’re evading the question. Is Donovan your client or not?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” I say before grabbing a new card from the pile.
“In other words, he is.” He frowns, grabbing a card of his own. “Just be careful with that one.”
“I’m a big girl, Lenny. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, I’m sure his brother thought the same thing,” he mutters.
“That isn’t fair, Lenny. What happened was an accident. No one is at fault,” I retort, unsure why I feel the need to defend Caleb so passionately. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I haven’t seen him for a week and feel somewhat responsible. So much so that I haven’t even told Trent that Caleb has gone MIA on me.
“When shit happens, there is always someone who’s at fault,” Lenny continues on with his rant, pulling my attention back to him. “My money is on the jackass. He was always up to no good. It was just a matter of time before his brother got caught in the crosshairs of his mess.”
“I’ve heard that Jack was… I mean, is quite the guy,” I say in my efforts to change the topic of the conversation since anything I say won’t change Lenny’s mind regarding Caleb’s character.
“He was. Is,” he corrects sullenly. “The best, in my opinion. Always had an encouraging word to give. Never one to bullshit anyone. Always on his game. Athletes like him don’t come around often. Fuck. Even men like him don’t.”
“You admire him,” I interject observingly.
“Everyone admires Jack. Like I said, he is the best of us. He would walk into the locker room and always knew what to say to get us pumped. He just has this way about him, you know? He believes we can accomplish anything if we put our hearts and souls into it. Most of us gave it our all on the ice, not for the team, but for him. We didn’t want to let him down. It is just bad fucking luck that he has that idiot as a younger brother, always being a chain to his ankle and bringing him down. A fucking albatross.”
Hearing Lenny put it like that, I can only imagine what kinds of lies Caleb is telling himself. How self-deprecating it must have been to walk in the shadow of someone like that.
“Maybe Jack didn’t see it that way. Maybe he saw in his brother the same thing he saw in everyone else. That everyone has the potential to be great.”
“Not that it did him any good,” Lenny mumbles.
“You know there is a very real chance that Jack might just make it.”
“If he can’t play hockey, then he’s as good as dead.”
“Is that how you feel? About your own circumstances? That once you have this other knee surgery, there is a real chance you won’t be able to play like you used to, so what’s the point of living?”
When he frowns, I know that’s exactly what he believes.
Lenny is one of my most troubled cases, and sometimes I fear that he’ll do something to himself because he can’t see a life unless hockey is at the very center of it.
“Lenny?” I call out his name when he goes silent for too long.
“You know what? I’m a little tired. Mind if we take a raincheck on the game?” he says, placing his cards down on the table and turning on the bed, away from me.
“Lenny, remember I’m here to help. And for me to do that, we need to have honest discourse between us.”
“I get it, Roxanne. I do. But right now, I’m too tired to think, much less talk.”
My shoulders slump while continuing to stare at his back.
“Okay, Lenny. Whatever you want,” I concede, a little disheartened.
I pack my things and walk over to the door.
“Same time tomorrow?”
He nods, eyes closed.
Dispirited, I walk out of his room, saddened that I went another day without getting through to him. As much as I try to help, Lenny’s depression is getting worse. And I’m not sure it will improve after his third knee surgery next week. I’ve talked to his surgeon, Dr. McCarthy, and though she remains optimistic, she doesn’t believe that Lenny will ever be able to play at a professional level again.
And if I know this, then so does he.
With my mind occupied with ways I can help Lenny, I walk aimlessly about the hospital halls and stumble upon Jack Donovan’s room.
Call it morbid curiosity.
Call it a moment of insanity.
Call it whatever you want, but when I see no nurses or doctors in the hall, I do the unimaginable and sneak into the one room I have no business being in.
“This is so wrong. What the hell are you thinking, Roxanne?” I chastise myself as I quickly close the blinds to avoid being seen.
When I turn around to face Jack, the first thing I register is the loud beeping sounds of all the machines surrounding him. One monitors his heartbeat, another monitors his brain activity, and the last one feeds oxygen into his lungs.
It’s all so… frightening.
Ever so slowly, I walk over to this stranger—one that oddly feels like I’ve already met—lying on a hospital bed, completely unaware of my presence.
“Hi, Jack,” I say as my eyes scan his face.
There are a few similarities to Caleb, which is to be expected, but it still takes me aback a little to see it. Though I know he’s only a few years older than his brother, time spent in the hospital has made him look even older than his twenty-eight years.
“We don’t know each other, but I’ve heard so many great things about you,” I say, saddened to see such a force of nature being taken down in his prime. “You don’t know this, but I’m trying very hard to help your brother come to terms with what happened to you. But we’ve been off to a rough start, unfortunately. I’m having a bit of trouble getting through to him, which I’m sure you can relate to,” I add. “But there’s just something about him, isn’t there? Something that just compels you to want to help him, even when he refuses.” I smile.
“One thing I know is that he loves you very much. So much, in fact, that he no longer recognizes his place in the world without you,” I lament, feeling a pang in my chest. “And he does have a place, you know? He just has to find it… by himself. And I think… that’s what scares him most of all. That now, he doesn’t have you to guide him. To show him the way. He’s going to have to trust his own instincts, which is difficult for him to do since, throughout his life, he was told they were no good. I don’t want to assume that you had a hand in causing that insecurity. As my patient Lenny likes to say, my money is on your father.” I sigh. “Anyway, I guess I just came in here to tell you that I’ll do my very best to look after him in my own way.”
“What are you doing here?” I hear Caleb call out behind me.
Oh no.
Oh, no, no, no.
I freeze in place, both mortified and scared to turn around.
“I asked you a question. What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”
My heart beats maniacally in my chest as I slowly turn around to face him.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I just… I was…”
What the hell was I doing?
“What?” he sneers.
“I just wanted to put a face to the name, I guess. Everyone speaks so highly of your brother that I just wanted to see him for myself. But you’re right. You’re absolutely right. Sneaking into his room without your permission was completely out of line, not to mention unprofessional on my part. I’m so terribly sorry.”
Even though my apology is heartfelt, from where I’m standing, Caleb’s light, emerald eyes look awfully pitch-black. When he turns his back on me, I let out the breath I had been holding and step as far away from his brother as possible. In complete silence, I watch Caleb grab a chair from the corner of the room and place it right at his brother’s bedside. Once seated, he places his brother’s hand in his and stares at Jack’s face.
“What did you hear?” he asks after a long stretch of silence. The question comes out so softly that I almost don’t hear him over the loud, ringing panic in my ears.
“That Jack is extremely talented. That he makes all his colleagues feel appreciated and valued. That he’s a good man. Some even consider him to be the best of men.”
“What else?” he asks, his voice no longer holding the same malice it did a few seconds ago.
“They say he’s a good friend. A good husband and father. And from what I’ve gathered, a good brother, too.”
“Thank you,” he whispers. “You can go now.”
When he senses my hesitation in leaving him alone, he turns his head over his shoulder to look me in the eye. “I need a moment with my brother, Roxanne. Please.”
All I can do is nod since no one with a working heart could oppose such a request.
I exit the room, albeit reluctantly, shutting the door and leaning my head against it.
What was I doing?
What did I think I could accomplish with seeing Jack?
Did I think he would open his eyes and tell me the best way to help his brother?
Was that what I was hoping for?
It’s been years since I got my doctorate and started treating patients, and never in all that time have I ever acted so foolishly.
What makes Caleb Donovan so special that he has me acting this way? Making me break the rules, left and right, for him? Could it be my need to connect with him, wanting to show him that I understand what he’s going through? Could I somehow see bits and pieces of myself in him because I lived that misery, too? Aside from these reasons, I can’t fathom another that makes sense.
A rational, responsible therapist would not act this way.
Yes, a good therapist would go above and beyond to help their patients in any way they can, but there have to be limits. A set of rules we must never break.
And sneaking into the room of a patient in a coma definitely seems to fall in that category of things NOT to do.
So does leaning against the door like some mad woman looking like she wants to hear whatever deep conversation is taking place inside.
Argh!
Seriously, Roxanne! What is wrong with you?
Unwilling to get caught and be accused of eavesdropping, I push myself off the door and run like the wind out of Mass General. It’s only when I get to the parking lot and click on the car keys to disable the alarm that lucidity finally pays me its visit.
I can’t leave now. Not without talking to Caleb first.
If the last time I saw him in this very parking lot is any indication, then he’s going to need someone to talk to. Otherwise, I fear his car will be on its last leg, considering the brutality he likes to inflict on it after he visits his brother.
Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe his fits of rage have subsided.
Or maybe they’ve only gotten worse.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
I make my way to the familiar, dark corner where his car had been parked, unsurprised to find it there yet again today. As I examine the classic model, my lips contort into a deep frown, noticing the multiple dents all over the bodywork, each one telling a story of unrestrained rage and pain. Each mark, each deep indentation, screams of all-consuming misery.
It’s just as I had assumed.
I can’t leave. Not when I know he’ll end up harming himself.
Having made up my mind, I turn around to head back to the hospital, only to find Caleb staring at me in utter confusion.
“How… how long have you been…”
“Watching you? A while,” he admits, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I… um…” I clear my throat and hold my head up high like I wasn’t just caught running my fingers over each ding and scratch on his hood. “I couldn’t leave until I talked to you.”
“Okay. Talk.”
“You haven’t been coming to therapy.”
“Is there a question in there?” He arches a brow.
“There is. I’m sure there is.” I laugh nervously, coaxing a little smile to crest his lips.
“Let me guess? You’ve never gotten caught with your hand in the cookie jar before, huh? A good catholic girl like you probably lived all her life doing the right thing. Never so much as even coloring outside the lines. Am I right?”
“Actually, yes. I guess you got me pegged, too.” I smile shyly.
“No. I don’t believe I have. But I’m starting to think I’m getting warmer.” He winks, leaving me utterly mesmerized and stunned.
“You’re in a surprisingly good mood. I wouldn’t have expected you to be in such high spirits after—”
“After seeing my unresponsive brother lying in a coma? Yeah, well, fake it till you make it, right, Doc?” He tries to joke lightheartedly. “Believe me, if I’m holding my shit together right now, it’s only because you’re here. Also, I might be getting a kick out of seeing you look all embarrassed and shit. Blushing suits you, Roxie. The red cheeks really bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.”
“You’re messing with me, right?”
“Little bit.” He chuckles. “Consider it your punishment for seeing Jack behind my back.”
“I said I was sorry.” I bite my lower lip nervously, hating how he worded what I had done. However, in all fairness, his assessment of my momentarily poor judgment is one hundred percent correct.
“I heard you,” he retorts, his eyes fixing on how my teeth tug at my lip.
I release it immediately, feeling my cheeks heat up even further.
“I… um…”
What is wrong with me that I’ve now succumbed to forgetting how to talk like a normal person?
“You said you wanted to talk to me?” he asks before taking two long strides past me to lean against the door of his car.
“I wanted to ask if you’d consider coming into the office tomorrow. Around six?”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“Asking. I’d really like it if you could give me another chance… I mean… give therapy another chance. I know our last session didn’t go as well as I would have liked, but I do think we made some progress there. Didn’t we?”
“You want the truth? You kind of freaked me out. It was like you were in my head, and I didn’t fucking like it,” he admits. “But then I had a few days to think about it, and I remembered that all that shit you said, you didn’t just pull it out of a hat. You lived it.”
“I did,” I affirm solemnly.
“I know you did. And that made me feel even worse for walking out like that. There you were, being brave enough to share that heavy shit with me, and I… I fucking ran in the other direction. I guess I owe you an apology, too.”
“Does that mean you’ll come back?” I ask, unable to hide my relief and excitement.
“Why the hell not?” He shrugs. “Just remember, you opened the door to let me in. Don’t come complaining afterward when I become more than what you can chew.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I smile from ear to ear.
“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow at six.”
“Tomorrow at six.” I beam at him, thrilled he’s going to give therapy another shot.
Not wanting to ruin the moment, I wave him goodbye and turn around to head over to my car.
When I slide behind the wheel and put on my seat belt, I realize that Caleb hasn’t moved from his spot.
Again, my frown reappears.
He’s waiting for me to leave.
Waiting so I don’t see him fall apart.
And even though it goes against everything I believe in, I turn on the ignition and drive away, giving him the moment of destructive solitude he so desperately yearns for.