ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟜𝟝 #3
Mrs. Hastings smiled quickly. "Thank you."
I watched as she opened her notebook again. "So, tell me about life at home."
"It's quieter. We don't laugh as much."
I felt Dixie's fingers loosen almost immediately. I could tell she was retreating again.
Without thinking, I gently curled my hand around hers.
Thankfully, she didn't pull away.
"And outside of the recent conflict, what does an ordinary day look like?"
"I wake up first, usually make some coffee. Dixie sleeps in longer. She is impossible to wake."
The smallest huff escaped Dixie. "Don't mind him, he's dramatic."
Mrs. Hastings smiled but kept writing.
"I used to kiss her goodbye every morning, but lately I haven't been sure if she'd want me to."
I felt Dixie's fingers very softly twitch inside mine.
Mrs. Hastings simply watched us, more specifically, she watched our hands. Mine remained wrapped loosely around Dixie's. Hers barely rested inside mine.
She looked back up. "What does conflict usually look like at home?"
"We avoid each other." I answered.
Dixie's head immediately turned. "No."
"No?" I looked over.
"We don't avoid each other."
"Seems like it."
"We're in the same house," Dixie said.
"That isn't the same thing."
"But we still talk."
"We do.. but we don't talk about this."
She stayed quiet.
Mrs. Hastings looked at Dixie. "Does that sound accurate to you?"
She thought for several seconds. "Maybe. I don't...I don't know."
"What makes those conversations difficult?"
Dixie immediately shrugged. "I don't know."
"Or you don't like talking about them?"
"You're beginning to ask very dull-witted and brainless questions." Dixie looked directly at her.
Mrs. Hastings laughed.
Dixie's eyes remained on her. "I don't see what's so funny."
"You're right, Dixie, nothing is funny. I just want to get to understand you."
"I don't like talking when I'm emotional."
"Why?"
"People say things they don't mean."
Mrs. Hastings nodded. "So you wait."
"I prefer the term being patient with myself and everyone else."
Mrs. Hastings smiled slightly. "That sounds unreliable."
"I didn't say it wasn't."
"It sounded like you did."
"No.." She shook her head, sighing. "I said I don't trust myself when I'm emotional."
Mrs. Hastings immediately wrote something.
Dixie noticed. "What did you write?"
"I wrote that you don't trust yourself." Mrs. Hastings looked up.
"What? I never say that."
"You just did."
Dixie leaned forward. "I said I don't trust my emotions, that's different."
"Tell me the difference." Mrs. Hastings nodded thoughtfully.
Dixie thought for a while.
"Emotions exaggerate. They're dramatic, make everything feel bigger than it is.."
"So..." Mrs. Hastings calmly interrupted. "When you're hurting you assume your feelings are lying to you?"
Dixie frowned as she crossed her arms. "Maybe. Sometimes."
"And what do you do then?"
"I ignore them."
The room became very quiet. There it was. The thing I'd been trying to explain for years.
Mrs. Hastings looked toward me.
"What was your reaction to hearing that, Cameron?"
I laughed quietly. "If anything, I'm relieved."
Both women looked at me.
"I've spent years wondering why she keeps everything inside. I always thought..I don't know..maybe she just didn't trust me."
Dixie's eyes immediately lifted. "I do trust you."
"Okay..then why don't you tell me things?"
"I do."
"Dixie."
"I do, Cameron."
"When?"
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Mrs. Hastings gently stepped in. "Dixie. When you're overwhelmed, who do you usually talk to first?"
"No one." Dixie leaned back on the couch, her fingers still wrapped around mine.
"Your husband?"
"No."
"A friend?"
"No."
"Family, at least?"
Dixie looked up. "I don't have family anymore. I just figure it out."
Mrs. Hastings' eyebrows lifted slightly. "You've never wanted someone to carry some of that weight?"
"Wel, I don't want to burden people."
Something in my chest cracked. "Dix..."
"Stop.I know what you're going to say." She immediately interrupted.
"You're going to tell me I don't burden you."
"Because you don't."
Mrs. Hastings held up a hand gently. "Let's slow down."
Neither of us spoke. Mrs. Hastings looked at Dixie. "You seem very certain that your emotions become burdens."
"That's because they do."
"Who taught you that?"
Dixie's entire body went still.
"I..." She stopped. "I don't know. I've always been like this."
"I don't think anyone is born believing they're too much." Mrs. Hastings tilted her head.
Dixie looked away. "I didn't say I was too much."
"You keep describing yourself that way." She smiled softly.
Dixie folded her arms again with her free hand. "I think you're reading into things."
Mrs. Hastings nodded.
"You're right, I might be. I've only known you for thirty minutes, and I could absolutely be wrong."
"At least you know that."
Mrs. Hastings wasn't offended.
She simply nodded. "I appreciate your honesty."
Dixie didn't respond. Instead, she stared at the bookshelf behind the therapist. Looking anywhere else that wasn't us.
Mrs. Hastings waited another few moments, allowing the silence to take over.
"Dixie...what would make you feel safe in this room?"
"...Leaving." Dixie sighed.
Mrs. Hastings studied her carefully. "And is that because you're uncomfortable or because you're afraid of what we'll find if we keep talking?"
Dixie's jaw tightened. "I'm not uncomfortable about anything and I-"
She stopped herself before sighing again. "...Is this session over?"
Mrs. Hastings glanced toward the clock. Technically, there were still ten minutes left. She closed her notebook anyway.
"I think today we've done enough." Mrs. Hastings didn't push further. "I'd like to see you both again next week."
"You don't have to decide today, but I'd encourage you to think about it."
She stood. "So, thank you for trusting me with your first hour."
~
The drive home was almost identical to the drive there. Only worse. The radio stayed off, and pouring rain had started somewhere along the highway.
The windshield hissed beneath the wipers.
When I finally pulled into the driveway, I shut off the engine. The ticking of the cooling car filled the space between us.
Dixie kept staring through the windshield, her body still. "Do you think that actually helped?"
Her voice was quiet. I thought about it.
"Maybe not today." I said, pulling my keys, gathering my phone in my pocket.
"I don't think one session fixes something this big."
She slowly turned toward me. "...One session?"
I frowned slightly. "Yeah."
"Well how many did you book?"
"Dixie..you seriously thought I only booked one?"
Her shoulders slowly fell. "So you booked more?"
I nodded. "Of course. Marriage counseling doesn't usually work after one appointment."
"How many?" She looked down into her lap.
"Eight. I figured we'd reevaluate after that."
Her head slowly lifted. "Eight."
"Mhm." She laughed, only it wasn't really laughter. It sounded closer to disbelief.
"...Eight."
"Dixie-"
She rubbed both hands down her face. "I can barely survive one."
"I know."
"And you signed me up for eight. Without even asking."
"I signed us up."
She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes.
"I can't do this." Her voice cracked.
"Yes you can."
"I can't."
"Well, you don't have to do it perfectly."
She shook her head. "You don't understand."
I admitted quietly. "I probably don't, but I want to."
"I wanna help you out, Dixie. You've gotta let me."
She looked like she wanted to say something but she simply opened the passenger door.
"I..." She hesitated. "...I just need a little while."
I nodded. That was fair, she did look overwhelmed.
"Okay."
"I need to be alone."
"That's fine."
"I can't..." She swallowed. "I can't think when people are looking at me."
My heart sank. I wanted to reach over, pull her into me and kiss her forehead.
But then I remembered exactly where we'd been sitting an hour ago. She'd barely tolerated holding one of my fingers, who knew what would happen if I simply hugged her?
I stayed where I was. "Take all the time you need."
"Thank you." She nodded once.
She climbed out of the car without looking back. I watched her walk toward the house, moving slower than usual.
She disappeared inside without waiting for me.
I stayed in the driver's seat another minute, before quietly whispering to myself:
"Why won't you let me in, Dixie?"