Chapter 7
Caitlyn
I wonder if people realize they're losing their minds or if it typically hits just out of the blue. Like one day, you're normal, and then the next, your head is all messed up with no recollection of what normal might actually be.
I feel like my world should be different.
Less than two months ago, it was my normal.
Now, I find myself second-guessing nearly everything I do. I've never struggled to get out of a car and visit a client. Other than nerves about wondering if I'm going to be a good fit for someone right before an initial meeting, I never falter.
I blame Jersey for why I've been sitting in the parking lot in front of the cabin instead of heading inside to start my appointment.
I don't know if he is inside.
I don't know if Zeus mentioned something to Jericho or if Jersey said something else about me.
I don't know if when I knock, I'm going to be met with Mr. Hart telling me my services are no longer needed.
There was no morality clause in the contract that I signed. The emphasis was honestly all on Eli, and never discussing the meetings or anything I saw or heard inside the walls of the cabin with anyone else. It sounds bad, but it's very typical non-disclosure stuff.
How could I have possibly missed the damn wedding ring on his finger?
I feel like such a fool.
What that man wants or sees in me means nothing. My skin actually crawls at the idea of him at the club, circling around me with a wife at home.
God, have I met her?
If she's here, I don't think I have.
Aspen is with Jericho, and Cora and Zara are with Ace and Mr. Hart, respectively. Those are the only three women I've been introduced to.
Does he leave on his trips to go back home to her?
"Ack," I spit, shaking my hands as if I could dispel any and all thoughts of him.
It doesn't matter what he does. I've done nothing wrong.
I would have a serious problem if I were married and my husband spent time in a sex club, but honestly, not all couples are the same. It's not up to me to decide what's okay in their marriage.
What I do get to decide is that I want no part of any of it.
With these thoughts, I climb out of my car and rush toward the front door.
Instead of it being Mr. Hart as I suspected it would be, Jericho answers the door with a smile.
He no longer offers me a hand to shake. He learned very quickly that it's just something I don't do.
"Good afternoon," I say.
"Good afternoon." He steps to the side, giving me a wide berth to enter the home .
"I think I'm going to work with him one-on-one today and then we can meet after in about an hour so I can go over any notes or issues of concern."
"Sounds good," he says as he closes the door. "He's in the living room. We'll be in the kitchen if you need us."
The cabin is massive, but it's also a complete open floor plan on the main floor. There's nothing that separates the two rooms other than the strategic placement of the furniture. I commend him for letting me know without saying it that he's not willing to leave his son alone with anyone, including his therapist. Maybe there would be fewer kids needing therapy as adults if everyone were so diligent.
"Oh," I say, stopping in my tracks. "I forgot my bag."
Jericho is quick to open the front door for me again, waiting just inside while I run to my car and get the things I brought for therapy today.
Eli is sitting in front of an oversized easel when I enter the main room.
"Hey there, friend," I say with a wide smile, knowing by now that it's best to put my bag down.
"Miss Caitlyn!" Eli yells. He's so happy to see me, I wonder if they don't remind him he's meeting with me in case I have to reschedule.
I know from experience working with the family that they protect this little guy at all costs. I'm sure that would include a little disappointment about his day looking differently than they had planned, but it's one of the things we'll have to work on. No one lives in a perfect world, and we have to prepare him for adversity at some point.
I open my arms, crouching to catch him just in time for one of his hugs.
I might need this from him as much as he needs it from me, but I release him the second he shifts to take a step back.
"Come look at my drawings!"
He tugs my hand and guides me toward the easel and a thick stack of drawings beside it on the table.
"You've been busy," I say as we approach.
"Momma lets me use paint and watercolors upstairs where she put the stuff on the floor," he explains. I take it to mean they've made accommodations elsewhere, so the floor doesn't get ruined if he makes a mess. "But I like these the best."
I take the box of colored pencils from him when he hands them to me.
"Did you want to keep drawing?" I ask, looking at the paper currently on the easel.
He dips his head before taking the box back from me and looking at it as he meticulously picks the next color he's going to use.
Therapy with children as young as Eli never looks like most would think. He doesn't sit in a chair and talk or lie back on a sofa. It's play therapy, and we carry on conversations and just talk freely. His hands are busy on other tasks, so his guard isn't up as much. He'll speak and answer questions without much thought, giving me better insight into what he's dealing with and the struggles or stress he may have about certain topics.
"I love seeing all these different colors," I say as I take in the completed drawings in the stacks, noticing a pattern of this small brown animal. I determine it's a dog because he drew it in inside scenes as well as outside scenes. "I think you really want a puppy."
His smile is quick, but his hand still works on the brown animal in the drawing he's currently working on.
"That would be the best present ever," he whispers.
"How do gifts work?" I ask, doing my best to make my voice sound very inquisitive.
Eli stops his drawing, and I watch as his little head tilts. I don't know if it was the right question, considering it took him right out of his activity .
He turns to slowly face me, his little brow scrunched together. "I don't know."
I chew the inside of my cheek as I consider my options about approaching this.
"Gifts are thoughtful things someone might do for another, but they aren't expected," I explain. "Do you understand what that means?"
He shakes his little head again, his lips a flat line as he waits for me to continue.
"It means even if we want something as a gift, we may not get it. Or maybe when we get a gift, just before we open it, we hope for one thing but feel a little disappointed when we open it and it isn't what we wanted."
He frowns, looking a little beat down.
"So I'm not getting a puppy?"
Shit. I don't think I took the right path.
"I don't know if you are, but I think all gifts are special. What would you do if you got a gift, opened it, and it wasn't a puppy? Let's say it was a train set. How would that make you feel?"
"I love trains," he says with a wide smile that lights up his eyes.
"What if it was a new t-shirt with a dinosaur on it?"
His smile fades just a little.
"I like dinosaurs, too."
"What if it was a pack of underwear?"
"What kind?" he asks cautiously after a long break.
"Plain white briefs."
His nose scrunches, but then he thinks, considering all of it.
"I wear underwear every day. So I think that would be nice to have them."
"Even plain white ones?" I challenge.
"All gifts are special," he says. "Even if it's underwear and not a puppy."
"I think that's very responsible of you," I tell him before pointing back to the drawing. "What is this puppy's name?"
"Felix!" he says as if he already has the dog.
I know a child verbalizing how he would act if he was a little disappointed in a gift and how he'd actually react at the moment may be different, but talking about it before it happens may help him handle the situation a little better when he faces it.
A lot of times children act out in new situations because they don't know how to regulate their emotions or what's expected of them.
The session continues with us chatting back and forth. In his drawings, I don't see much concern. There's an overlap of water, and I'm not certain if that is because of the time he spends in the pool or if it has another meaning. In some drawings, the water seems to have a positive connotation and in others, the water seems ominous and dangerous.
I make a mental note to ask Nolan and Aspen about the water and see if bringing Kiva with me on my next visit would be okay. I know the old gal would love to get out of the house. I always feel so guilty leaving her behind for the day. When I have appointments in the office space I rent, I always bring her with me.
"I'm going to have to head home soon," I explain to Eli when the session is drawing to a close.
"Will I see you again soon?"
"Very soon. Can I get you to draw something for me?"
"Anything!" he says with a bounce in his little body.
"I want you to draw me your dreams."
He pulls in a deep breath before speaking. "The good or the bad ones."
"The good ones," I tell him with a gentle smile. "But if you have time to do the bad ones too, I'd like to see that. "
Giving him the option to draw puts less stress on him, and I find that most kids will eventually put that down on paper for me when given an option.
"Okay," he says before turning back to his painting.
I stand and make my way across the room to Eli's parents.
"He really wants a puppy," I whisper when I first approach.
Nolan smiles as if he already has something in the works, but Aspen looks a little dubious.
"He's going to have an increase in nightmares," I begin, watching the way Nolan's back stiffens.
I can only imagine the man feels a little helpless because his son's nightmares are one of the few things that are outside of his control.
"Why?" the man asks.
"I tasked him with drawing about his good dreams, and it's inevitable that the bad dreams will increase before they get better. But it's a way to get the bad things on paper, which I told him he could draw for me as well."
"Why not just have him draw the bad ones first?" Nolan asks.
"It puts too much pressure on him. Has he had any problems with bedwetting?"
"No," Aspen answers quickly.
"That's good, but keep an eye out for that as well," I advise.
"We will," Nolan says as he steps closer to me, frowning when I instinctively take a step back to avoid him touching me. "I wanted to ask if everything is okay?"
I raise my eyebrows. Now is not the time to discuss my issues. I have a therapist for that. I'd never have that conversation with a client's parent.
"Why do you ask? "
"You were looking around a lot during your session as if you were worried about something. Is there something I should know?"
My head immediately shakes. I had no idea I was looking around, although I have been concerned that either Jersey or Zeus would pop up and share about the other night.
"I have no concerns," I tell him. "See you on Saturday?"
"We'll be here," he says, his eyes still on me as if he isn't taking my assurance at face value.
With as much confidence as I can manage, I gather my bag, tell Eli another quick goodbye, and make my way to the front door, fighting the urge to look around on the way out.