Chapter 38
THE AFTERMATH
MAGGIE
Three Months Later
“Maggie, you know we don’t make any progress in these sessions when you don’t talk to me,” Barb reminded me.
Barb, my hopeful therapist who still believed we would make progress despite never really talking about anything important.
Although I had faithfully maintained our twice weekly sessions for the past three months, we still had yet to discuss anything to do with my so-called disordered eating habits.
Body dysmorphia. Anorexia nervosa. That’s what the hospital on post diagnosed me with after Zeke called emergency services and they transported me via ambulance to be assessed.
The Army doctor initially wanted to send us back to the United States as an overseas medical center was not equipped to handle this kind of treatment.
But I didn’t want Zeke to be punished for my failures.
He already had an ugly wife who apparently needed psychiatric intervention—there was no need to send his career down the shitter, too.
So Zeke and I compromised. I agreed to go to therapy and follow a new diet program with a certified nutritionist as long as he did the same. “We’ll tackle it together,” Zeke had promised. “Married couples are supposed to share their problems with each other.”
Even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, I would never deserve that man.
And as much as I despised going to therapy, I couldn’t deny that Zeke kept his end of the bargain.
Somehow, he managed to maintain his own appointments and cook us the specific foods that the nutritionist outlined.
Every morning, he left a balanced breakfast in the microwave for me, with an equally nutritious lunch in the refrigerator.
He never uttered a word of reproach on days when he came home to find the meals untouched.
Zeke’s therapist could only meet with him once every other week, but he didn’t have the pressing concerns I did.
He always managed to come to my doctor’s appointments, though, even if it was simply to hold my hand in the waiting room.
Barb made sure to always point that out, too. “You’re so lucky,” she assured me, “to have a partner who supports you the way Zeke does.”
Lucky or not, therapy grated on my nerves.
I wanted to keep my promise to Zeke. I wanted to be better for him.
But there was something so aggravating about opening up to Barb.
So far she wanted to know a lot about my parents and my life back in River’s Run, not about my self esteem or body insecurities.
And wouldn’t it make sense to start there since all the hospital paperwork diagnosed me with extreme body dysmorphia and anorexia nervosa—purging subtype?
I already knew my wackjob of a mom and absentee father gave me problems. I didn’t need to go to Barb for that.
“Maggie?” she prompted me again.
I sighed. “Sorry. What was the question?”
Barb frowned, her corkscrew curls wild around her wrinkled face.
Rectangular glasses sat perched on the edge of her nose so that she could easily see to jot down notes in the notebook opened on her lap, but I hadn’t given her much to write today.
She lived here in Seoul as a government employee along with her retired Army husband, who now worked as a director for the sanitation liaison program.
Based on the reviews I found for her online, I had no doubt she was an excellent therapist. I just didn’t know that she was right for me.
“I want to talk about your mother,” repeated Barb. “Tell me about her.”
That was the last person I wanted to talk about. “Diana is irrelevant. I barely have a relationship with her. I’ve told you this. We don’t need to talk about her.”
Barb hummed. “I see. And why do you think that is?”
I huffed in annoyance. “Because there’s no point! All she cares about are how many men she can con things out of. She’s probably had ten different boyfriends since I moved here.”
“Sounds like that makes you angry,” my therapist commented.
“I’m used to it by now,” I scoffed. “She’s been like that my whole life.”
“And you hate her for it,” Barb continued.
“Wouldn’t you?” I countered. It irritated me that Barb always seemed willing to defend Diana, especially without knowing the kind of person she was.
The older woman shrugged. “Hate is too strong an emotion for me. I’d be more concerned with making peace with her so that her actions didn’t affect me.”
“Her actions don’t affect me,” I automatically contradicted. But even I could hear how hollow the statement sounded.
“They don’t? I must be misunderstanding, then. Maybe we should start over—tell me about Diana.”
I ground my teeth. Her trick worked on me this time. “Fine,” I huffed. “My mom’s comments sometimes get to me. Happy now?”
Barb grinned without any amusement behind it. “What kind of comments?”
“She always had something to say. You never knew what she would criticize next. Sometimes my hair didn’t look right, or sometimes I wore a color that looked bad on me. She didn’t like it when I grew up and started getting more attention than she did. It’s—”
“It’s almost like she became the voice in your head,” Barb finished for me. Although that wasn’t at all what I was about to say.
“No—" response died in my throat as I considered Barb’s insinuation. She wasn’t exactly wrong…
After a long pause, Barb tried again. “Do you think your mom’s dating history has anything to do with your own marriage?”
I glared at her. “Leave Zeke out of this.”
The therapist shrugged. “I can’t exactly do that when you’re telling me he’s the only family you have.”
Shrinks really thought they knew everything, didn’t they?
Or at least Barb did. She might have been smarter than me and have a bunch of framed degrees on the wall behind her, but that didn’t mean she knew what I was going through.
It definitely didn’t give her permission to bring Zeke into the mix either.
“I just don’t see why you would jump from one topic to another. Why would all Diana’s boyfriends have anything to do with my marriage? It’s not like she slept with Zeke or something!”
“True, but didn’t you tell me that you and Zeke got married after only knowing each other less than a week?” Barb glanced down at her notes before returning her attention to me. “Doesn’t seem like much time to get to know someone, let alone fall in love with them.”
“Marriages don’t have to be about love,” I pointed out. Lord knew my parents’ divorce proved that.
“You’re right, they don’t. Something your own mother probably taught you, wouldn’t you say?”
I folded my arms across my chest in annoyance. She totally set me up for that one.
“Zeke is different. We just couldn’t be away from each other. Diana never had a relationship like that.”
Barb nodded sagely as she considered my answer. “So, you’re confident that you’re different than your mother? You’re not repeating her mistakes?”
All the psychobabble bullshit drove me insane.
I hated feeling like I was under a microscope for Barb to examine.
It came across as judgmental, whether she meant it that way or not.
Keeping my promise to Zeke was important, but how much could a poor girl take?
Especially when we weren’t talking about the actual reason I needed therapy in the first place.
I squirmed in my seat, uncomfortable with the line of questioning.
“I don’t think she sees any of it as a mistake,” I finally offered.
“But you think it is?”
“Yeah, I think repeatedly cheating on your husband and then sleeping your way through half the town is a bit of a mistake,” I countered gruffly. “But none of that has anything to do with me!”
This time Barb’s smile contained a hint of triumph. “I think we found where we’re going to start today.”