33. Therapy
Therapy
Knox
Victoria shifted in her spot and tugged down the hem of her dress for the twelfth time—no exaggeration—I counted.
I grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.
“Someone has ants in her pants,” I whispered.
“I’m anxious,” she admitted.
“Me too. Therapists aren’t my favorite,” I shared.
She snorted.
“What you meant to say was that accountability isn’t your favorite.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
The door opened, and Dr. Matthews strolled in with a warm smile on her lips, displaying deep laugh lines from decades of smiling and laughing.
Her silver-streaked hair was piled high on top of her head, secured in place by a pencil.
She gracefully dropped into the leather chair opposite us after retrieving a notepad and pen from her desk.
“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Ramsey. How are you?”
“Fine,” we both muttered.
She nodded and scribbled on the pad. I couldn’t imagine what she possibly garnered from “fine” that required writing, but she was the expert, with her many glowing recommendations, degrees, and accolades on the walls.
“I hadn’t expected to see you again, Mr. Ramsey,” Dr. Matthews stated.
“Neither did I. I had left your office a little excitable.”
Victoria snorted.
“I already know what happened. You told him about himself and he acted a donkey. I’d apologize on his behalf, but you should see who raised him.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh? Do you not get along with your mother-in-law?” Dr. Matthews questioned.
“She’s a liar and can’t be trusted.”
I laughed and folded my arms over my chest before turning my attention to our therapist.
“My lovely wife is upset with my mother for missing dinner this weekend; however, they have a spa day arranged next Wednesday.”
“What upsets you about your mother-in-law missing dinner, Victoria?”
Victoria sighed and mimicked my posture, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Knox moved my mother from a memory-care facility to our guest house that he converted into a medical suite. She has full-time around-the-clock care, but I’m still involved with her day-to-day care.” She shrugged. “Since her arrival…well…we started making arrangements.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your mother’s decline,” Dr. Matthews sympathized.
“Rapid decline,” Victoria added. “I don’t know. A part of me feels like she held on long enough for me to return home.”
I reached for the tissues on the table beside me when I heard her voice crack. She accepted it from me and wiped away her tears.
“How does that make you feel?”
“I feel…like I’m not in control. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel that my life has been predetermined and—I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”
“Take your time,” I voiced reassuringly.
“I think I’m trying to say that everything happens for a reason, but I don’t feel I’m making the decisions. Do you think I wanted to be an executive assistant to this nut?” she asked, shoving her thumb in my direction.
“From the disdain in your tone, I’d guess not,” Dr. Matthews replied.
“I did not. I’d been applying for marketing jobs left and right, but the employment ad for Ramsey Acquisitions Group kept popping up everywhere I turned—the newspaper, numerous online job boards, LinkedIn—you name it.
Eventually, I stopped fighting it and applied.
From there, I was stranded on an island.
I fell in love. Knox was bitten, and we were rescued in the nick of time.
We returned home, and now my mother is about to check out.
My entire reason for working for Knox was to care for my mother.
I feel like a chess piece on a board, and someone is moving the pieces. ”
“Hm. I see. I admire the analogy you used. Are you spiritual, Victoria?”
She smirked.
“I am, but in that cliche, you’ve hit rock bottom kind of way, and you need hope.”
“So, you found spirituality on the island?”
“Yes.”
“Did it serve its purpose? Did you have hope you’d be rescued?”
“At first, but I stopped hoping to be rescued at some point and started searching for peace and acceptance instead.”
“Tell me more about that.”
“There’s not much to tell. I felt content. I had shelter, water, food, good loving, and entertainment. The way I see it, if I wasn’t supposed to make it, then I should’ve died in the crash.”
I nodded, agreeing with her statement.
“I feel that I’m clinging to my mother-in-law because my mother will pass away soon. I wish I had more time with her, and I feel she was taken away from me too soon.”
“I see. You mentioned making arrangements?”
Victoria dabbed at her eyes again.
“Everything is taken care of—plot, casket, flowers, repast, and eulogy.”
“And how have you been coping with this?”
“As well as I can. I have a great support system.”
“That’s good to hear. How are you feeling mentally and emotionally? Any signs of depression or thoughts of harming yourself or others?”
“No.”
“Victoria, be honest,” I whispered.
“I am a little depressed, but I’m working on it,” she admitted.
“How are you working on it?” Dr. Matthews pushed.
“I have my morning devotion, work out, share my experience on social media, and volunteer. I think my depression would resolve if I had an emotional support animal.”
I sighed heavily.
“Victoria, for the last time, you don’t need an emotional support animal.”
“Emotional support animals have proven to ease anxiety, depression, and some phobias,” Dr. Matthews chimed in.
“I’m not denying any of that. She just wants a fucking dog. Go get the damn dog. You don’t have to put a label on it. Just say you want a dog.”
“Is this upsetting to you, Mr. Ramsey?” Dr. Matthews asked.
“He’s just a crotchety old man,” Victoria teased, tugging on my earlobe.
“I’ll show you just how crotchety I can be when I get home,” I said, squeezing her thigh.
Dr. Matthew’s gaze slid down to my hand and back up again.
“I guess that answers my next question, but I have to ask: Do you have any issues with intimacy?”
“None whatsoever—minimum twice a day, Monday through Thursday, and three times a day Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.”
“That’s very healthy,” Dr. Matthews commented. “Victoria? Are you all right?”
“What?” she asked as if she were breaking out of a daze.
“Where did you go?”
“I-I have to go,” Victoria said before gathering her purse and running out of the office, leaving me and Dr. Matthews dumbfounded.
What the hell is going on?
Victoria
I tore into the bodega like a mad woman, scaring the cashier, who was probably wondering if I was about to stick him up.
“Do you have any pregnancy tests?” I asked breathlessly. His shoulders seemed to slump in relief.
“Yes, ma’am. Do you need just one?” he asked, reaching behind him to the wall I hadn’t noticed of contraceptives, lube, stimulants, and pregnancy tests.
“Give me three—just to be sure.”
I paid for the tests and cringed when he congratulated me as I raced out of the store. I’d forgotten to get my Depo shot when we returned and had been letting Knox shoot the club up left and right.
I’d barely whipped the illegally parked SUV away from the curb when I received a call from Alyssa.
“Hello?”
“Um…is everything okay, Victoria? Knox sent me a text message saying to check on you because you bolted from therapy and took off with the vehicle.”
“Everything is so fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” she replied.
“It’s all starting to make sense!”
“What’s making sense because it’s not you?”
“Hold on, this asshole is driving like I don’t have somewhere to be,” I said before laying on the horn. He rolled his window down and stuck out his middle finger.
I planned on ignoring him when he switched lanes and rolled down the passenger window.
“Lord have mercy, Jesus,” I mumbled when we approached a stoplight.
“What’s going on?” Alyssa asked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” I lied, reaching into my purse for my gun. I hadn’t planned on using it, but the guy was doing the most over a little toot-toot, beep-beep. I laid the weapon across my lap and faced forward as the man berated me.
“Who is yelling like that?” Alyssa questioned, sounding more concerned than when I first answered.
“Some idiot driver.”
“Are you safe?”
“I’m safe, but if he steps out of his vehicle, then I can’t say he will be.”
“Suck my dick, bitch!” he yelled. I closed my eyes and prayed for the light change because I was tempted to brandish my weapon, but I couldn’t unless I was in imminent fear for my life.
I can’t be so reckless. I possibly have precious cargo onboard.
Finally, the light turned green, and the car made it through the intersection, losing the guy who didn’t know how to find the gas pedal.
“Victoria, what’s going on?”
“I…I may be jumping the gun here, but these mood swings have been killing me, you know? And I have been more tired than usual, but I chalked it up to stress, but—”
“Do you think you’re pregnant?”
I shrugged my shoulders as if she could see me.
“Maybe?”
“Will I be a godmother?”
“Maybe,” I repeated.
“Are you on your way home?”
“I am.”
“Do you need someone there with you?” she asked.
“No. I’m fine, but you can stay on the line and talk to me until I get home.”
The forty-minute drive home was grueling. Traffic was a nightmare, of course, and the anxiety made my bladder fill, and I was damn near pissing down my leg when I threw the SUV in the garage.
“I think if you have a boy, you should name him Chastain,” Alyssa suggested.
“Chastain Ramsey? That sounds like a fucking horse. I gotta go,” I rushed out before hanging up on her.
I tore open the pregnancy test as I sprinted to the downstairs powder room.
“Ohhhhh, God, I didn’t think I was going to make it,” I moaned as I peed. The relief made me so delirious that I had nearly forgotten the pregnancy test. I stuck it under the stream and capped it before laying it flat on the counter.
I finished my business and left the bathroom for the living room couch.
I lay on the sofa and laced my fingers on my stomach while staring up at the ceiling.
I closed my eyes and imagined how our lives would change with the potential new addition.
One minute, I was playing scenarios in my head, and the next, Knox was shaking me awake.
“Victoria? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you,” he said with deep concern etching his face.
“I-I’m fine. I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Do you want to talk about what sent you running out of therapy?”
I pulled myself up and patted the cushion next to me.
“Oh, boy. We’re having one of those moments.” I nodded. “Well, I guess after therapy would be the best time to do this while the coping techniques I learned are still fresh on my—”
“I never went in to get my Depo shot.”
Knox stared at me blankly until it finally sank in.
“Oh… oh .”
“Yes… oh .”
“I see….Do you think you’re pregnant?”
I shrugged.
“Anything’s possible.”
“When do you want to take a test?”
“I took one already.”
The shock and anticipation made his breath catch slightly.
“And? What was the result?”
“I haven’t checked. The test is on the vanity in the powder room. Will you go get it?”
“Sure. I’ll return shortly.”
True to his word, Knox returned in less than a minute.
“What does it say?” I whispered. My heart thudded in my chest as I waited for him to put me out of my misery.
“Well…Mrs. Ramsey, I think we should gas up the jet and go to Las Vegas this weekend. My mother would have a conniption if we had a child out of wedlock.”
“It’s positive?” I asked in disbelief, even though I knew it was a high probability.
“We’re pregnant,” he confirmed, turning the test for me to see the two solid pink lines.
I jumped from the couch.
“I’m pregnant.”
“We’re pregnant,” he repeated.
“ I’m pregnant. I’m the one carrying this child, fuck face.”
“Ooh. That’s a new one; I like that. Are we replacing That Man Over There with fuck face?”
I slowly paced the living room, my hands on top of my head, as if I had just lost the rent money on a parlay.
“This is my fault.”
“What’s your fault?” Knox asked incredulously.
“I should’ve remembered to schedule my appointment, but we had so much going on that it completely slipped my mind.”
“You didn’t remember because you didn’t want to remember, Victoria.”
I rolled my eyes and allowed him to envelop me in his arms.
“Why aren’t you freaking out? Not that you would be upset, but I kinda expected you to be jumping on the couch Tom Cruise-style or something.”
“It’s basic biology, darling. I’ve been coming in you gratuitously. I’m surprised it took this long.”
“Hm,” I hummed. “Do you mean it about going to Las Vegas and getting married this weekend?”
“I do. Take your friends and Polly Pocket and go shopping for our trip. Get whatever your heart desires, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Stop it, Knox. I love you so much, but I will run up your credit card.”
“I love you, too, and that’s what it’s there for. I’m so happy, Victoria,” he said, sighing as he swayed with me in the living room.
“Me too.”
“We finally have an excuse to get ferrets. I know our child will want one, and you’ll be powerless against their pleading eyes.”
I pushed him away gently and returned to the foyer. “Where are you going?”
“We are going on a field trip. Let’s go, Knox. I’m driving.”
* * *
I stood with a satisfied grin on my face as Knox pinched his nose and stole small sips of breath when he could.
“What’s the matter, Gio?” I asked coyly.
“I don’t—Jesus, do they always smell like this?”
“Yep!” I boasted proudly.
“I don’t believe it. I think the pet shop owners have severely neglected these ferrets. Shame on them.”
“Nope. Ferrets are stinky sock puppets, like I told you.”
“I thought you were exaggerating like you usually do when you’re trying to rain on my parade.”
“Go ahead and pick it up.”
“I’d rather not,” he snapped.
“Why not?” I asked, smiling wider.
“I fear the stench will never leave my fingers.”
“So, we agree that stinky sock puppets won’t enter our home?”
“I agree.”
The true definition of ‘I can show you better than I can tell you.’
“Let’s get out of here before I lose consciousness. Are you hungry?” Knox inquired, returning his handkerchief to his pocket.
“I can eat.”
“Good. What do you think about Vince’s?” he asked, slinging his arm over my shoulder and leading me out of the pet shop.
“That sounds like a wonderful plan, but I want wings, too.”
“All flats?”
“You got it, baby.”