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The big hand of the analog clock on the wall crept towards the 12 mark as Akiza sat in the waiting room. Mom had taken the chair next to her and was calmly reading a cheap paperback. Akiza wished she had that sort of poise. She’d long since picked the skin around both of her thumbnails raw. One of her legs jiggled in a regular rhythm, almost out of her voluntary control. She crossed her legs at the ankle to try to stop this, deciding that it must be annoying Mom despite her making no outward sign of it. However, with nothing to distract her, a fresh surge of adrenaline shot through her body. She had no choice other than to start moving again or else risk a panic attack.
“I’m referring you to Dr. LeBlanc for outpatient treatment,” the attending psychiatrist at the hospital had told her. “He does both medication management and therapy, with a focus on child and adolescent trauma. In my opinion he’s one of the best practitioners in the New Domino area. I’m surprised you weren’t sent to him to begin with.”
Akiza’s parents had picked out her first therapist. They’d gone with a female provider. The rationale behind this had been that she may be more at-ease confiding in a woman. Unfortunately, things hadn’t turned out that way and it had ended up a huge mess. She wanted to be optimistic about this change. However, both her fear of the unknown and the residual bad feelings from her previous experience coiled together in her belly, tight as a rope. The appointment had been set for 4 PM, in order for her to not miss more school. She wasn’t sure if that had done any good since the anticipatory anxiety had prevented her from paying attention in her classes today.
As she watched, the minute and second hands lined up on the top of the clock, then the second hand kept on going without any sign of movement from the office within. Ten…twenty…thirty…
That’s it, she thought. He must have heard about what I’ve done and decided he hated me and doesn’t want to see me…
The office door opened. Crisis averted, for the moment.
“Miss Izinski?” she heard a deep, raspy voice ask. “My name is Rafael LeBlanc. It’s nice to meet you.”
She turned her attention to the doorway, where probably the tallest man she’d seen in-person in her entire life stood. He’d tower over Sayer and even Jack, she was sure of it. And while both of them were rather slim, this guy was…well, not quite fat so much as he was big.
“I…” she began. She felt mortified about how squeaky her voice had sounded and dropped her eyes, examining the textured carpeting at her feet in detail. It was mostly beige, although it had some flecks of brown and blue mixed in there too. She thought the blue looked especially pretty…
“Akiza, honey, look at him,” Mom urged. She’d marked her spot in her book and set it on the seat cushion. Then, to Dr. LeBlanc, she added, “My apologies. Please be patient with her. She has been very nervous about this appointment.”
“And that is a completely understandable reaction, Akiza,” he said. She awarded mental points to him for addressing her directly rather than talking over her head. “An intake can be nerve-racking under the best of circumstances, and I’m aware that I might look a bit intimidating. Take your time. You can join me when you’re ready.”
With an encouraging glance from her mother, Akiza managed to stumble to her feet and follow the doctor into his office. It was a nice enough room. The floor had the same type of carpet as the waiting room, the walls were covered in nature prints, and side tables held things like potted plants and a white noise machine and a fishbowl that was filled with pretty rocks rather than fish. She sat in one of the leather armchairs, which had exactly the right amount of wear to be squishy and comfortable yet not shabby. Rather than take his place behind the large desk in one corner, Dr. LeBlanc instead chose another armchair that was across from her, notepad in hand.
“I like your cats,” she ventured, pointing at a photo on his desk. It showed three of the animals on a sofa, all curled facing the same direction and in ascending darkness of fur from left to right.
“Their names are Ginger and Cinnamon and Pepper,” he told her, gesturing to the white one with caramel-colored face and tail, the brown one, and the black one in turn. “What about you? Do you have any pets?”
Akiza sighed. “I wish I could have a cat. My dad’s allergic.”
“Ah. Too bad.”
There was something mildly amusing about the deadpan way he’d said that, and Akiza found herself smiling. She lifted her head to get a better look at him. He appeared to be around fifty. His hair, which might have once been blond, was now mostly gray. He had blue eyes behind his reading glasses. Although they were kind, his posture was ramrod-straight, reminiscent of a person who had been in the military or something similar.
He said, “Before we get started, I want to go over a few things, like I do with all my clients. Whatever you say in here will be kept confidential except under the most extreme of circumstances…even from your parents. They have already signed an agreement to that effect. Also, if anything ever makes you uncomfortable during a session, you should tell me so we can either work through it or change the subject. And if you think that our therapeutic relationship isn’t working out, for whatever reason, you may tell me at any time that you want to change providers. Do you need further explanation for any of that?”
Akiza shook her head. Her last therapist had said something similar; the problem had been that she kept trying to bend her own rules.
“Excellent. Now, how about we start with some easier questions? I find that this is helpful to work up to the more difficult material, and we can get to know each other a little better. You are seventeen, correct?”
“Yes. I had my birthday in August. According to the ABBA song, that means I’m the Dancing Queen now.”
“Yes, that song is quite the earworm, isn’t it? However, I feel that I must spare you from my atrocious singing.” He quirked an eyebrow, and Akiza giggled. “Now if you don’t mind, could you tell me about some interests and hobbies you have?”
“Well…” That was a good question. What hobbies did she have? Her days had previously been filled with being the Black Rose, and she still wasn’t sure what to do with herself when not at school.
“Sometimes I shop at Oceanside Avenue on the weekends. Does that count?” Emboldened by his nod, she continued, “Or I go hang out at the beach. On weekdays I spend a few hours at the garage after school. A couple years ago I tried to grow some roses, but they died.” She stuck out her bottom lip in a comical pout.
Dr. LeBlanc chuckled. “Yes, they can be a fickle plant. I have some bushes at my house, and it took me years of hard work to get them to where they are now. “
“Ooh, do you have any pictures?” Akiza’s interest was piqued.
“No, not at the moment. I’ll try to take some on my phone before our next session, and you can look at them then. Does that sound good?”
She nodded eagerly, smiling yet again.
“Wonderful.” He took a moment to jot down a few notes. “You mentioned a garage. Could you tell me more about that?”
“It’s part of the rooms that my friends Yusei and Jack and Crow rent. Although I’m not sure that Jack would agree that we’re friends.” Akiza had to remind herself to not do anything silly like blush at a mere mention of Yusei. “They use the garage to work on their Duel Runners, although a lot of the time they just end up making a mess.”
“One of my friends likes Turbo Duels,” Dr. LeBlanc commented. “I never got into them myself.”
“I want to learn how. One day.” Akiza’s answer surprised her; she hadn’t given it thought before. Now she realized that the desire to ride a Duel Runner had been there the whole time. “Can you tell me some things about yourself too?”
“Certainly. I am originally from France…Paris, in fact. My hobbies include cooking, skydiving, and, as I already mentioned, gardening. I dislike boats.”
“I don’t care for them either. I always get seasick,” Akiza admitted. She found the information that he was French interesting; it made sense given his name, although he had no accent that she could discern. “I think I’m ready to talk about the difficult stuff.”
“All right. Keep in mind that you can take breaks whenever you need them. Can you explain, to the best of your knowledge, the circumstances that brought you to my office?” He took the opportunity to flip to a blank page on the notepad.
Where to begin? She resolved to get through the facts as quickly and unemotionally as possible. “When I was a kid I didn’t get along with my parents. My dad called me a...a monster because of my powers. Then I ran away from home when I was thirteen and lived in the Arcadia Movement for almost three years. Have you heard of that?”
“Yes. Your parents mentioned this to me and I’m familiar with it from the news coverage.”
“Okay. So I lived there, and I think I was Sayer’s–the leader’s–favorite.”
“What makes you think that?”
Akiza, having never put these thoughts into words before, paused a moment to consider. “He always told me that I was his most powerful and special student. I got a bedroom to myself. Everyone else had to wear a uniform and I was allowed to dress however I wanted. I could go almost anywhere in the city. Sometimes Sayer even let me get away with mouthing off at him.”
She decided to get the worst part over with.
“I did a lot of bad stuff when I was there,” she confessed. “I destroyed buildings, probably injured people, might have killed people. And Sayer encouraged me to do it. I have to live with that forever, and no one understands what it’s like…not even you.” To her dismay, she felt tears in her eyes. She tried unsuccessfully to keep them from falling. Dr. LeBlanc passed her a handful of tissues.
“Remember that you can take as long as you want to. I don’t have any appointments today after yours,” he told her. Even after she’d confessed her heinous crimes to him, his voice was calm…almost flat, but in a good way.
He allowed her to collect herself somewhat and suffer the indignity of blowing her nose. Then he said, “I’m going to disclose something else about myself. Normally I would not do this. However, your case is unique and I believe that this might help in establishing rapport. Is that all right?”
“M-hm.”
“Good. Akiza, when I was younger, I spent seven years in a group that I now realize was a cult, starting when I was your age. I also had a high rank and did many, many things that I’m not proud of today. When I first got out, I didn’t cope with my guilt in healthy ways. Then I realized, I had a choice. Either I could waste the remainder of my life, or I could channel those feelings into helping people who’d also had traumatic experiences.”
“Oh.” Their conversation had taken an unexpected turn. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not for you to worry about,” he assured her. “I’m your therapist, not the other way around.”
So he did know what it was like! Akiza dared to have hope. Finally, someone understood her in a way that not even Yusei could.
She began thinking out loud. “Is the Arcadia Movement a cult? I never thought about it that way; there weren’t huge signs on the wall saying ‘THIS IS A CULT’ or anything. It makes a lot of sense, though. Everything was just…weird.”
“How so?”
“Sayer used to say that he wanted us to love each other and always get along. He’d go, ‘This is a family. There’s no room for negativity here.’ But then, he…when other people didn’t do well in training, he could be nasty to them. He’d tell them to be more…more like me.”
More scribbling on the notepad. “And how did that make you feel?”
“You mean back then?” She tried to recall this. “Everything was always complicated with him. I guess I was…happy? I know that's awful, but he was praising me and I was glad it wasn’t me he was mad at.”
“Were you often worried that he’d get mad at you?” Dr. LeBlanc inquired.
“Yeah. It wasn’t quite the same thing with me, though.” She looked back down at the floor. “He’d yell at the other students. He didn’t yell at me or scold me that much, but when he did he’d make me feel really stupid. And if I protested, he’d say I was taking it too personally.” She shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe he was right.”
“That sounds familiar,” the doctor sighed. “Both from my research and my own experience. That’s one of the ways that people like Sayer keep their control over others, Akiza. Nothing you do will ever be good enough for them…not for long, at least. You always owe them; you have to do more and more simply to break even.”
Sayer had made her participate in the Fortune Cup, she thought. He’d done this despite knowing that the idea of being exposed in front of tens of thousands of hostile people, without her mask to protect her, had made her skin crawl. But she truly had owed him; he hadn’t been making that part up. He’d told her what happened to teenage girls who lived on the streets…
But was selling her body for sex that different from letting Sayer use it as a weapon?
“Can we talk about something else now?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied. He had to flip to a blank page again. “In fact, I was about to suggest the same thing; we might have been getting ahead of ourselves for the first session. How about we go over what’s happened since you left the Arcadia Movement?”
“Hmmm. It wasn’t too bad at first. I helped save the world, if that makes any difference. When I moved back in with my parents the school year was almost up. They decided to have me start in the fall when the new year started, so I got to have an extra-long summer break. That was nice.”
“Your parents mentioned that there was some conflict over the summer,” the doctor prompted.
Akiza’s face scrunched up into a scowl. “You could put it that way. They must have been trying their best, but they got in my face about everything. I practically had to let them know every time I went to the bathroom. And my old therapist wasn’t any help. She was super-condescending and kept telling my parents I needed more boundaries. Wait, am I allowed to say that?” She worried that perhaps all the therapists in New Domino knew each other and had secret meetings where they compared notes.
“Yes. Your opinions are as valid as anyone else’s. And remember that what you say won’t leave this room.”
“Right. She and my parents came up with a schedule for me. And they’d take away privileges if I didn’t follow it to the letter. Like I was in kindergarten.” She took a moment to dramatically roll her eyes. “I did okay with that for a while. Then school started back up.”
“Did you have problems at school?”
“Not quite like I did before.” At least there was that. “Although the other girls don’t outright say mean things like they used to, they still whisper when they don’t think I’m paying attention. There’re a few other girls there that were in the Arcadia Movement with me. I thought about trying to make friends, but I was a bitch to them before because Sayer told me I was better than them. What if they still don't like me?”
“You can never be sure until you try,” Dr. LeBlanc pointed out. “I still keep in touch with some of the people that were in the group with me, albeit not as often as I should. I thought they’d want nothing more to do with me. They proved me wrong.”
“I guess so. There’s one, Inori, that seems pretty nice. But, back to the story, those little things kept on building up until I had a really bad day.”
“Can you tell me more about that day?”
“I’ll try. So that morning, I found out that I’d bombed a math test I’d studied hard for. I hate math; always have. I never had to take it in the Arcadia Movement; Sayer said I’d never need it.”
The therapist replied, “Failing a test is discouraging for anyone. And being three years behind, through no fault of your own, would make it moreso. I admit that I had my own struggles with math when I was in college. Are you getting any tutoring?”
“Uh-huh. I’d thought it was helping...then I took the test and froze up and forgot everything. I was supposed to have another session that afternoon, but I thought ‘fuck it’–pardon my language–and went to the garage instead.” Akiza swallowed nervously. “Uh, can I have a drink of water, please?”
Dr. LeBlanc got up, retrieved a bottle from a mini-fridge near his desk, and handed it over.
“Ah, thank you.” She screwed the lid off, taking a cold and refreshing gulp of the contents.
“No problem. I always keep that fridge stocked full. Extended talking can do a number on the throat.”
She tried to remember where she’d left off. When she began talking again, she spoke in a rush. “I went to the garage. Once I was there I vented a bit. Jack said that I was dragging everyone’s mood down. Yusei started arguing with him, which I guess proved Jack’s point? Anyway, I decided to go home. And when I got there, my parents were pissed–I mean mad–at me because I’d skipped tutoring and hadn’t called to tell them I wasn’t coming straight home. We had a big fight too. Then that evening, while they were at a party, I kinda snuck into their wine cellar and drank a lot. The next thing I remember, I was riding in the ambulance. They kept me in the ER until the alcohol had left my system, and then I got sent to the psych ward for three days, and the psychiatrist there sent me to you.” She shrugged. “I dunno what else there is for me to say.”
“What you’ve said is excellent. Thank you.” Dr. LeBlanc gave her an encouraging little smile. “I have a few more questions, then we can wrap things up for today. First up: I know this is a difficult subject, but when you snuck into the wine cellar, was that an attempt at harming yourself?”
She paused to drink more water. “Uh. I don’t think so? The people at the hospital asked me that too. I probably just wanted to forget everything for a while. I can’t remember for sure.”
“So this was your way of coping?”
“Yeah. I know it's a dumb idea.”
The doctor shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it ‘dumb.’ Everyone has strategies for coping; it’s my job to teach you healthier ones so you won’t have to resort to drinking alcohol in the future. I’d also like to talk about your medications. You were started on some at the hospital, correct?”
“Two of them. Prozac and…”–she could never remember the second one–“something beginning with an ‘L’, maybe? It’s supposed to make me not as angry.”
“And have you noticed any effect from them yet?”
She considered this. “No, not really. They said it might take a month or more for things to start working.”
“That’s correct. Sad but true. Can you tell me more about specific symptoms you’re having?”
They talked about a whole bunch of things, like her mood and anxiety and energy and whether she wanted to do things and whether she liked doing anything. Akiza didn’t have anything specific to report until they got to sleep.
“I have nightmares,” she said. “And sometimes they wake me up and it’s hard to go back to sleep. That never used to happen when I was in the Arcadia Movement.”
“That’s common in a case like yours. When you’re in a continuously traumatic situation, your body’s putting its energy into surviving. It’s only when you escape that situation that your subconscious decides it’s safe to begin processing the trauma.” He grimaced. “I had some terrible dreams myself, those first few months. Is there anything else you’d like to ask before we go over the plan?”
“No, I’m good.”
He capped his pen and set the notepad down. “All right then. As far as your medicines go, I’d like to give them a few more weeks to fully kick in. Then, if you think they’re still not working well enough, we can see about increasing or changing them. We could also discuss starting something for the nightmares if they continue to be a problem, maybe Prazosin or Clonidine.” She must have looked panicked, because he added, “Don’t worry about trying to remember that. I will give printouts with the information to your mother, and then you can read them at home and go over them with your parents.
“For therapy, we will be doing something called trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapy. TF-CBT for short,” he added. “I am also trained in another method called EMDR, which we could think more about down the line. I would encourage you to think about attending some sort of trauma group, too. But for this session, your homework is to come up with some goals you’d like to work on, and start on your Coping Skills Box.”
“You mean like an actual physical box?” Akiza asked.
“Exactly. You will take a medium-size container–I’d recommend a shoebox–and decorate it the way you want, then you can write down your new coping skills on pieces of paper when you learn them and keep them stored in one spot for when you need them. In fact, we can go over your first skill now.”
They spent the last few minutes practicing something called “square breathing.” Akiza wondered out loud how breathing could have a shape. Dr. LeBlanc laughed and explained that it was called that because all of the different parts of it took the same amount of time.
Once they were finished with that, he remarked, “This was an excellent first session. You already have some great insights. This process isn’t going to be easy. Nevertheless, I think you’ll make a lot of progress and I’m looking forward to working with you. I hope that you feel the same way, and I will plan to meet with you again in around two weeks.”
“Yes. Se you then” she replied. Upon leaving the office, she felt quite a bit more cheerful than she had when she’d entered it. She stayed in the waiting room while Dr. LeBlanc spoke briefly with Mom about the plan.
“He seems like a very nice man,” Mom said when they were in the car driving back home.
Akiza confirmed, “He is.” His idea of decorating the coping box sounded like it was going to be a lot of fun. She wondered if Leo and Luna might benefit from treatment with him…and perhaps the guys too.
“That’s wonderful! Well, I hope that hard work gave you an appetite. Chef’s making roast chicken and potatoes for dinner tonight.”
She smiled. “Yum.”
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By the time Rafael had finished typing up his visit notes for the day, retrieved his car from the crowded parking garage, and endured the rush-hour traffic with no fewer than three Turbo Duel diversions, it was almost fully dark out. The cats were eager to see him when he unlocked the door to his house. They circled his legs like sharks who scented blood as he prepared their food, letting him know in no uncertain terms that they had never been fed in their entire lives.
Not feeling in the mood for anything fancy, he dug around in the fridge for some bagged salad and Gruyère cheese and leftover ham, using the latter two to whip up some quick crepes. Even though he hadn’t touched alcohol for 25 years, he still craved a big glass of Scotch every now and then after long days like this one. However, he ignored this impulse, settling for a bottle of Perrier instead. Sad though a Frenchman without his wine and spirits might be, he wasn’t about to erase all the hard work he’d put in to maintain his sobriety. Especially not when he had roughly twenty young and impressionable clients at any given time who depended on him as a role model.
He ate dinner where he usually did, in his armchair in the living room while watching TV. The irony of the fact that he’d used to always get on Valon’s and Alister’s case for leaving crumbs on the sofa was not lost on him.
Normally, he would stay here until it was close to bedtime, with Ginger in his lap and Cinnamon lounging nearby. (Pepper preferred hiding under the bed, and it was a small miracle that he had ever been caught on film together with the other two cats at all.) Tonight, though, he switched off the TV at 8:30 and reached for his phone in order to complete one of his own coping skills. Talking with Akiza had reminded him that this call was long overdue.
The phone was answered on the second ring. A chirpy female voice exclaimed, “Hi, Uncle Raf!”
“Hello, Emma. I take it you’re back at home?” He hadn’t spoken with any of them since he’d attended her graduation four months ago.
“Yep! Now that I’m done with college, I have to get an actual job and save for my move to New York. And I’m sending my play to the local theater companies in the hopes that it’ll get picked up by someone.” Rafael could imagine the sparkle that was surely in her silver eyes. “One of these days, I promise you that you’re gonna see the name Emma Cooper-Horvat in lights on Broadway!”
She’d inherited a tendency to dream big from one father and a flair for the dramatic from the other. “I remember when you recruited most of your second-grade class to play Atlantis during recess. You roped me into it once or twice if I’m recalling correctly.”
Nervous laughter. “Oh, eww, don’t remind me of that. I didn’t understand what it meant to you and I’ve felt bad about it ever since.”
“Don’t be. You were a child and thought the stories were cool. I never held it against you, and I know both of your fathers are proud of what you’ve accomplished.” When she was a baby, Rafael had worried about her future. She’d been born unplanned to young parents with truckloads of their own issues. However, they’d defied the odds, and Emma had had an overall happy life thus far.
He asked, “Speaking of, is one of them available to talk?”
“Dad had to stay late at the shop. They’ve been swamped with custom orders these past weeks,” Emma told him. “And Papa was doing a stream; I joined him for a bit earlier. I think he might have just finished, though? Okay, yeah, that’s him coming up the stairs right now.”
Rafael heard a door creaking open and voices in the background. Then, another person said flatly and somewhat hoarsely, “Let’s get the scolding part over with. You never call, why do you never call, et cetera, et cetera.”
“And hello to you too, Alister,” Rafael replied. “I’m sorry. That’s on me. I’m always busy with…”
“With work, yes, we know. And Em’s telling me to stop being rude, so…anyway. Hey there. Sorry about my voice. I told my viewers that if I reached my subscribing goal, I’d do Metronome battles on Pokémon Stadium with my impersonation of the announcer. And we reached the goal.”
“I thought you hated that game,” Rafael said.
“I did. But now it’s starting to grow on me. Nostalgia goggles, I suppose. Excuse me for a sec.” Alister cleared his throat. “There, that’s better. I take it you didn’t call simply to make chitchat, right?”
“You’d be correct, to a point.” Rafael hoped this wouldn’t sound too out-of-the-blue. “I was wondering…how often do you and Valon think about the past?”
Alister paused for long enough that Rafael began to wonder if he was still on the other end of the line. Finally, he answered with no small amount of caution, “Not very? At least I don’t. I’d assume the same with Valon but don’t know for sure, since we don’t talk about it much. Our life is pretty great the way it is, so there’s no point to bringing it up. Why are you thinking about it all of a sudden?”
“I had a new client today. Sweet girl and seems motivated for treatment, but she’s been through a lot. She reminded me of…” Of you, he almost said. When we first met and you were twelve and traumatized and terrified. “Of what happened then.”
“Wait a minute. Does this have anything to do with that Arcadia cult?”
Damn it. Although Valon might not have made that connection, Rafael should have known that it wouldn’t get by Alister. He chided, “You know I can neither confirm nor deny that.”
“Right. What in particular were you thinking about?”
“Is Emma still in the room?”
Alister snorted. “Raf, she’s grown up now. We stopped censoring our conversations around her years ago.”
He still wasn’t quite comfortable about it, but it was their decision to make, not his. “Suit yourselves. What I was thinking was…I never did thank you two properly for saving my life. You shouldn’t have had to see me in such a state.”
He thought back to that stiflingly hot August in 2003. Unable to deal with the revelation that he’d dedicated his entire being to the same person who had killed his family, he’d spent the preceding months in and out of an alcoholic stupor. Valon and Alister had decided to take the train down from Amsterdam to surprise him, only to catch him on his worst day yet. The surprise visit had quickly turned into an impromptu intervention.
Laughter on the other end. “Sorry again. After the freaky shit we saw in the cult, you’re worried about that?”
“You didn’t have to check on me,” Rafael insisted. “But you did anyway. Even though I made countless fuckups when I was your guardian. You both needed help and I wasn’t equipped to give it.” The resolve to never repeat this mistake had led him first to college, then medical school, and ultimately to the private practice he had today.
He heard a sigh. “Now don’t go getting all sentimental on me in your old age. We’ve been through this before. Valon and I both think you did a great job given the circumstances. You tried to give us a stable home, cooked for us, took care of us when we were sick, and got me started on my transition. All when you were barely an adult yourself, I might add. How does that one thing you keep telling your clients go again?”
“You did the best you could given the knowledge you had,” Rafael parroted. “You’re right, of course. A shame for the field of psychotherapy that you didn’t pursue a career in it too.”
“Ha. I’d be terrible at it. One session and I’d pull a Dexter and go murder the poor kid’s abuser. I don’t have a clue how you refrain from that.”
“Oh, believe me. The temptation is always there.” Rafael’s voice was almost a growl on the last two words as he thought about some of the more horrific cases he’d seen over the years. “But it’s what I was meant to do, and the good far outweighs the bad.”
He thought of Akiza’s shy smile when she saw the photo of his cats. Of the file boxes full of drawings and notes from past clients, thanking him for his efforts. Of being invited to school plays, and sporting events, and graduations, and even weddings…getting to see how so many of his patients had turned their lives around.
“If you say so.” They’d had conversations on this topic before, and Alister was never completely convinced that being a therapist wasn’t a life of thankless drudgery. “Wow, it’s getting late. I’d better go. I need to call my dear husband and make sure he didn’t get into a Turbo Duel on the way home from work because someone cut in front of him on the road. Again. Oh, wait, one more thing. Did you ever hear back from that cousin of yours?”
“Nope.” Sherry wanted nothing to do with him after he’d tried to tell her that vengeance wasn’t the answer.
“Oh. That’s unfortunate. Well, you always have us. Call back soon, you hear me? Try not to wait four months this time. Maybe over the weekend when Valon’s here; I know he’ll be disappointed he missed this one. And if you don’t show up for our neighborhood-famous annual Halloween party, I will end you.” Rafael faintly heard a scandalized exclamation in the background. Alister added, “Yes, I’m aware he lives hundreds of miles away, Em. Don’t worry. It was only a joke.”
“If I do wait four months, you have my official permission to end me however you see fit,” Rafael said drily. “Good night, you two.” Emma grabbed the phone and shouted her own goodbye right before he hung up.
That call had been quite helpful. Even therapists needed therapy sometimes, he mused while heading to the kitchen to tackle the dirty dishes. The process of obtaining knowledge was never done. If everything went well, he and Akiza Izinski were going to learn a lot from each other.