Chapter 13
Caitlyn
"I'm not sure I understand how this is a bad dream," I say, holding up the drawing Eli created since our last session. "I thought you liked swimming in the pool."
Eli doesn't immediately answer, but I never pressure him for details. Therapy is hard enough as it is without the child feeling like everything he says will only bring more questions.
Several minutes go by in silence, and I know that his quietness proves how safe he feels around me. When we first started, his eyes would dart all over the room as if he expected something bad was going to happen if he didn't answer me right away.
"I like the pool here," he says, pulling his current drawing from the easel and tossing it to the floor. It's an act of rebellion, his movements a little fractured with a hint of violence to them. "I haven't seen anyone die in this pool."
"Is that why the water is red here?" I ask, pointing to the part of the pool that transitions from blue water to violent red .
He nods, focusing on the box of crayons as he selects his next color.
"That had to be scary," I say, my tone a little lower as I look toward the kitchen.
Both Jericho and Aspen are close enough to hear our conversation, and neither seems alarmed about the boy's confession.
I haven't been given full details about what he went through. In fact, during the interview process, I asked that they didn't tell me. I wanted to know how Eli saw what he experienced before getting information from them. I didn't want other's recollections of events to taint how I saw them through the child's eyes. It's a little unorthodox, but it's worked well for me in the past. I might've made a mistake on this one. I think knowing Eli witnessed some sort of violent death might've been important in the beginning.
Witnessing someone die is one of the most tragic things that a child, or anyone for that matter, can experience. I have to assume it wasn't a drowning with the red-and-pink splashes he has added to the water.
Maybe they hit their head, causing an injury before falling into the pool?
The look on Aspen's face tells me it wasn't some sort of freak accident. The death was either criminal, or the person dying was the criminal. If I had to guess with everything I've learned about Eli and these people, I'd wager that it was the latter that took place.
What would be good to know is if that person was a blip in Eli's life or if they were more of a permanent fixture.
"It had to happen," Eli says, looking from his drawing to me.
"Is this what makes your dreams bad? Having seen something like that?"
I break eye contact, not wanting him to feel like he's under a microscope.
"I worry he'll come back to life. "
I swallow, feeling so sad for a child who has been put in a situation bad enough that he's grateful someone is dead.
"That doesn't happen," I assure him, turning my attention to his drawing in order to give him a break from such heavy things. "Is that Felix?"
Eli smiles, and this one comes a lot quicker than the ones from the earlier days of our therapy.
"He's a superhero," the child says, pointing to the red cape tied around the brown dog's neck.
"Who is he out to save today?" I ask, smiling as he tells me about the grand adventures his little cartoon dog is going to have later in the day.
As the session draws to a close, I give Eli a hug before walking across the room toward his parents.
"I'd like to remind you about the NDA you signed," Jericho says the second I'm within earshot.
"And I'd like to remind you that if there has been a crime that hasn't been reported, as a licensed therapist, I'm also a mandatory reporter," I say, standing a little taller.
"This is the folder you refused to take before," Jericho says, handing me a thick manilla folder. "I assure you that everything has been reported to the proper authorities."
I take the folder because I'm no longer in the position to refuse information on this case. However, his readiness to provide the information makes me believe that he's not lying to me or trying to keep anything from me.
"Thank you," I tell him.
"There are things that aren't in the file. Family things that weren't disclosed to the authorities," Aspen says, her throat working on a swallow as she looks from me to Jericho. "But you're more than welcome to ask us any questions you may have. We just want to make sure Eli is healthy and happy."
"I did want to ask a question," I say, using the segue. "He is incredibly excited about a puppy."
"We haven't decided that he's going to get one," Aspen says, quick to answer before Jericho can open his mouth.
I sense that they have had many conversations about it already.
"I have a dog. Kiva. She's a sweetheart," I assure them as I reach into my bag to pull out some paperwork. "She's certified as a service animal, and I have the paperwork here. I was wondering if it would be okay to bring her to a therapy session with Eli."
"That would be fantastic," Jericho says with a wide smile.
I look to Aspen because I don’t want to step on any toes, but I find her staring up at Jericho like the guy hung every single star in the sky just for her.
"That would be lovely," she eventually says. "Eli would go crazy in the best way."
"I won't bring her every time," I assure them. "I don't want it to interfere with his therapy, but I think my next session after the one he had today would be a treat."
"That would be great," Aspen says, clinging to Jericho's arm as if she's struggling not to go across the room to Eli. "How should we handle this evening?"
"Good question," I tell her. "Don't bring it up with him, but don't shut him down if he wants to talk about it. He's afraid this man he saw die in the pool will come back to life. I assured him that wouldn't happen. You can do the same."
"Okay," Aspen says, relief in her tone.
"You guys are doing great," I assure her. "His regression has been almost non-existent."
"Would be better if he didn't regress at all," she whispers.
"Therapy doesn't work that way. It's never a straight line to healing. If it were, it would not be a true treatment. I'll see you guys soon. "
I tuck Kiva's paperwork and the folder they provided into my bag before giving Eli a little wave and walking toward the front door.
I fight the urge to look up at the stairs. Not once since I've been here today, have I felt like someone was watching me like I have before, but I'd be a fool to think I have some superpower sixth sense that knows when the man is near. I also avoided looking all over in case it made Jericho wonder if anything was wrong like the last time.
That sense, the one I didn't think I had, runs up my spine like an electrical current when I step out onto the front patio and see one of the familiar dark SUVs pulling into a parking lot just to the left of the front door.
Instead of making a spectacle of myself, I walk toward my car.
"Hey, Doc," one of the guys says, and I simply lift my hand in acknowledgment and keep walking.
When I chance a second glance in that direction, I watch as Jersey climbs out of the back passenger seat. His eyes lift to mine briefly before he walks away.
I don't know what I expected to happen the next time I saw him after that night on my front porch, but a mask of indifference wasn't even on the list.
His reaction to me wasn't even the equivalent of common courtesy. It's as if I didn't even exist. Maybe that's the best way to act, considering where we are, but it hits me right in the middle of the chest like a boulder that has broken free and rolled down the mountain to cover me unexpectedly.
Feeling vulnerable with the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes, I rush to unlock my car and climb inside, nearly hitting the massive metal box built to house trash for several of the cabins.
My foot is shaking, barely keeping pressure on the gas as I pull out of the complex and head toward home .
I have felt a lot of things since that night on my porch, and more than once, I questioned my sanity for not stopping it, but I never felt used and cast aside until now.
I had felt powerful and in control of my life for how things happened, for the way he let me take the reins.
With one simple dip of his head, ignoring me, it put a disgusting twist on every emotion I felt that night, and maybe I gave him too much power by thinking he did those things because it was what I needed. Maybe I handled the situation wrong or differently than what he expected.
I feel sick to my stomach as I brake for the first stop sign not far from the grouping of cabins, and by the time I make it home, I fully regret ever laying eyes on that man, much less giving him access to my body.