“How do you feel about the doctor?”
I swallow hard and my cheeks heat up even more. “It’s Helen,” I squeak out, and her eyes squint at me.
“Dexter’s wife? You’re still seeing her, getting advice from her after everything that’s happened?” Angela gawks at me.
“It just seems easier to talk to her since she won’t think I’m crazy and because she knows the history.”
“I understand that you feel like you’re alone in dealing with this. I can’t imagine what it is like to be so close to someone with Cal’s condition, but when you talk to a mental health professional, you don’t have to worry about anyone thinking that you’re crazy. We’re here to be your partner.” She says convincingly.
“Be honest though, if you didn’t know me and I came to see you, you’d think I was insane or an idiot to believe this?”
She frowns. “No, maybe years ago but after everything I’ve learned, the human mind is a miraculous thing, Lauren. When you grasp the things that it’s capable of, not much would surprise me now. What I will say though, I don’t think you should be seeing Helen, not primarily at least. It’s such a conflict of interest,” she frowns. I rub the back of my neck, the hairs sticking up on it.
“When we last talked you were vehemently opposed to it, even Chris didn’t want to see her. What changed?” she asked sincerely.
“Everything happened so fast, problem after problem…” I tell her even though I leave out Mr. Crestfield’s threat. “And… I just wanted to talk to someone who understands, and even though Helen has kept so much from me, I know at least that she gets it,” I say honestly.
“Have you thought about attending a support group?”
I push my hands through my hair, my stomach tilting at the mention of it. It’s not as if I haven’t thought about it. It’s just in some part of my mind when I cross into that world, it seems like there will be no going back. What if I hear things I’m not prepared for, and to be honest I’m terrified of hearing from other people. What if this never ends?
“I’m scared,” I feel my lip quiver. She looks at me, empathy radiating off of her. “I peeked in on a message board once…” I take a deep breath. “It wasn’t exactly a hopeful forum.” I tell her the few stories I skimmed through, traces of familiar things in my life and what’s even scarier, the unfamiliar that could eventually be the inevitable.
“It’s for support, not for you to compare. Everyone deals with things differently, but don’t you think having someone to talk to who has a similar circumstance would help you?”
I try to imagine it, talking to another woman who doesn’t only understand but who knows what it’s like.
“I really hope you consider seeing someone else. What about the doctor Chris was going to originally see?” I think back to Dr. Clemons, and how when Chris called to see her she was magically booked.
“Chris did say that he felt comfortable with her, well the one time he did see her.” I don’t tell her about Mr. Crestfield’s threat. With so much that’s happened, it was one of the last things I’ve had a chance to think about.
“I’m always here to listen, but if she has expertise in that field, I think that she’d be more helpful than I would. You have to have your own understanding of what’s going on,” she stresses. I promise her that I will give Dr. Clemons a call, and quickly change the subject. Angie being intuitive as she is doesn’t push me anymore. We talk about Caylen, her parents, and patient sessions. She doesn’t give me any juicy details of course, but explains how nervous and excited she is. We go to lunch and even stop by her favorite boutique, and I relish the time, time where I get to feel normal, where I’m just a woman who’s out with her friend trying to find a cute blouse and jeans and I hug her for that.
“Red and blue,” I tell Caylen as she squishes her hands in the paint. She giggles after she mixes the colors together. “Already a little artist,” I kiss her on the cheek.
“Mama,” she squeals hitting the paper before swirling her fingers around in it. I let her busy herself with her own artistic masterpiece and put more paint on my fingers and spread them across the large board. She douses her hand in orange paint now and makes little dots then pushes away the little bowl and pours out all the blue onto the board.
“Beautiful! You really like blue, huh?” I laugh as she smiles and it’s the best feeling in the world. Her grey eyes lighting up look just like her father’s, and a slither of sadness goes through me because I think of Cal. I think of all the time he’s missed out on with her, but I tell myself that they’re all the same, he is still with her as Collin, but I can’t shake the feeling.
“Boo,” Caylen says in between giggles and I smile widely at her.
“Blue. Good job sweetie.” I hear the door open and see Collin, his eyes lighting up the moment he lays eyes on her.
“Look at my little Picasso,” he says excitedly. Caylen pushes herself up and hobbles over to him.
“No you’re going to get paint all over daddy, Cay,” I tell her but he picks her up and kisses her cheek as if he’s not wearing a thousand dollar suit.
“That’s the most amazing picture I’ve ever seen!” he says enthusiastically and she grips his face leaving a blue handprint on it and giggles.
“How was your day?” I ask after he puts his briefcase down and sits in the spot Caylen was just in.
“Interesting.” He takes off his suit jacket and folds it even though I’ll have to send it to the cleaners.
“Sparse on details, huh?” I chuckle, and he grins.
“Let’s see what I can come up with,” he says his attention on Caylen. I feel my brow arch. Collin is never short on details; he often gives too much information if anything.
“Did you eat?”
He shakes his head.
“How long have you both been at this?”
“Maybe a half hour. I’m going to give her a bath.” I stand and stretch.
“I have a bag of stir-fry I can whip up if you want to read to her after her bath while I make it,” I say while he hands Caylen to me. His eyes are grey like Cal’s but there are no swirls of green around the iris. They seem dull today, and he yawns. He’s tired, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him tired before. He follows me up the stairs, him heading into our bedroom to shower and me into our guest bath to clean up Caylen. Today’s Thursday which means he’s met with Helen. He never really talks about his sessions with her, only saying that they’re making progress and I never ask about much because I’ve become accustomed to not getting answers or because I’m afraid to hear them. Today I think I’ll put his words to the test. He says we’re on the same side, that he won’t hide anything from me, so I think it’s time I know more of what’s going on whether I like the answer or not. I sing to Caylen while bathing her as she splashes water and bubbles all over me and I think of Chris. When I wrap her in a towel and change her clothing I think of my approach. Collin is so different from Chris and Cal. He appears transparent, but I don’t know if it’s because he knows that’s what I crave or if he is really like that. By the time I’m done bathing her, he’s out of the shower, wearing a pair of white pajamas that look silk with an East Asian design. I swear he has more clothes than me, and he smells delicious and fresh. His hair is pulled into a man bun, and I have to conceal a giggle because it’s so different from anything Cal or Chris would wear, but he looks good. We swap off Caylen and I take a really quick shower, throw my hair in a bun, and whip up the stir-fry I’ve perfected.