Endowed with Death, page 12
23
“How have things been going between the two of you?” Dr. B asked after a few minutes. “With things being so stressful at work, have you found that overflowing into your home life? How are the two of you managing?”
Kenzie didn’t look at Zachary before answering this question. She stared out the window, taking a few deep breaths and trying to relax.
“I know that I have been more emotional. Less patient than I usually am. I’ve probably bitten Zachary’s head off a few more times than I would have normally. But I also think… despite that, we’re still communicating pretty well. We haven’t gotten into any big arguments. I know that sometimes… I say things that hurt, and I regret that.” She ventured a look at Zachary. “But Zachary’s been very patient with me through it all. He hasn’t lashed back at me. And he sure could have.”
“That’s good. Do you wish that you had more engagement from him? Are there things you want to discuss that you think he is avoiding? When you are impatient, is there a particular behavior you are looking for? Are you snapping about the same things?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s just because I’m stressed. I get impatient because… he takes longer to do certain tasks than I would. Or he makes assumptions about how I want something done or about what I need, and it’s wrong.”
“Like?”
“When I’m just venting, and he wants to jump in and fix things or tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“That’s a pretty common complaint between couples.”
“I know. It’s nothing. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with our relationship. It’s just normal couple’s stuff. But he thinks I’m halfway to breaking up.”
“No,” Zachary protested, finally sitting up and taking part in the conversation, “I’m just trying to help out. To be a supportive spouse. And she’s fine. She thinks she snaps all the time, but she doesn’t. Not like…”
“Not like Bridget,” Kenzie finished. “Well, I’m glad I don’t sound like a screaming lunatic whenever he does something I don’t like. But I wish that wasn’t the standard. Zachary acts like I’m a saint, and I’m not.”
“When does he act like you’re a saint? When he’s talking to friends?”
“No, it’s not like that. Not to show me off. Just when it’s the two of us, and he acts like I could do no wrong, which is clearly not true. I know I get impatient and hurt his feelings, but he won’t admit it.”
Dr. B looked at him. “How about it, Zachary? Is Kenzie perfect?”
He looked trapped. He looked at Kenzie and then at the therapist, his face getting pink. “There’s no right answer to that question.”
“It isn’t a trick. No one is perfect. So is Kenzie perfect?”
“No.” It seemed to pain Zachary to say so. He grimaced and shook his head. “She’s great. She’s a supportive partner. We do things together. She is interested in my work and I’m interested in hers. We have a good time together. We’re communicating well…”
“But she’s not perfect.”
Zachary ran his fingers through his short hair and scrubbed at the back of his head, wincing.
He didn’t answer.
“You see?” Kenzie said, and shrugged. “And, of course it is an impossible standard. He makes me feel like I can’t do anything wrong or I will disappoint him. I won’t be the perfect Kenzie anymore. I’ll be… tarnished. Disappointing.”
Zachary’s brow furrowed. “No.”
“You felt like you needed to be the perfect daughter growing up, didn’t you?” Dr. B’s eyes were alight with interest. “It’s often true of the firstborn. You felt like there were a lot of expectations, and you had to meet them all.”
“Sure. I guess. I tried to do what my parents wanted me to. Tried to listen when they told me my responsibilities or the right way to do something. And I did my best.”
“But you weren’t perfect.”
“No.” A shrug. Of course not.
“And when you made a mistake, they corrected you. They didn’t tell you it was okay to fail. They asked you to do better. To live up to their standards, even if they weren’t realistic.”
“That’s what parents do. They teach their kids the right way to do things.”
“Yes. And they need to correct them when what they do is dangerous to themselves or others. But when they tried their best and failed, that’s okay.”
“I suppose.”
Kenzie thought about little Michael. Had he been punished when he hadn’t been able to do what his parents told him to? A toddler could not be expected to follow every instruction given to him. Probably not even half of them. They needed to try, and try, and try again to build their skills. They needed to be allowed to fail again, and again, and again.
But Michael had been punished harshly. Maybe for things he had done wrong, and maybe just for existing. For being there when his parents didn’t want him around. For making a mess, as kids do. For making noise. For following them around. For wanting one more drink of water before bed.
“Kenzie?” Dr. Boyle asked quietly.
Kenzie wiped at the tears that suddenly wet her cheeks. “I don’t know what this is all about,” she said, embarrassed. “It isn’t about this conversation,” she gestured between herself and Dr. B. “It’s… the case I’m working on. The abuse case.”
Dr. B nodded sympathetically. “It’s a terrible thing.”
“I just can’t understand it. I know that people get frustrated or angry when children can’t or don’t do what they’re supposed to do. But… kids aren’t just short adults. They have to learn and to try and make mistakes and try again. It isn’t fair to expect them to be perfect.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Michael— this boy was just little. Barely two years old. And they just… how could they do that?”
Dr. Boyle didn’t try to explain it. And that really wasn’t what Kenzie was looking for. Dr. B probably dealt with parents who were in counseling. Children who had been damaged by abuse, as Zachary had. Families who were in conflict, maybe hurting each other. She saw it from both sides and knew what could happen when things got out of control.
“I’m sorry, Kenzie,” the therapist said gently. “I truly am.”
24
“I know this has been hard, Kenzie,” Dr. Boyle said. She glanced toward the clock. “Our session is drawing to an end. You have an assignment, should you choose to accept it.” She gave Kenzie a teasing smile. “Have you considered medication? If this case is triggering memories of your abduction or putting a lot of extra strain on you, you might want to consider it.”
“No,” Kenzie dismissed the possibility immediately. “I don’t need medication.” She was a doctor. If she needed medication, she would have sought it. But extra work was not something that could be medicated away.
“I have offered it before. It can be helpful in dealing with your traumatic memories. And it doesn’t have to be permanent. Many people take an aid for a few months and then are able to continue without it. It isn’t a lifetime commitment.”
Zachary flashed a look at Kenzie. She was always getting after him to take his medications, even when he didn’t think he needed them.
But she wasn’t being hypocritical about it. Zachary needed medication to function every day, to sleep at night, and to help him with his compulsive behaviors. It wasn’t the same as Kenzie dealing with a little extra stress.
“I don’t need anything right now,” Kenzie asserted.
“Okay. That’s fine. The offer is open if you change your mind or find that things are getting worse and you get to the point where you need something. Don’t feel embarrassed because you said no and then find that you do need something after all. You are a doctor, so you know it isn’t a sign of weakness to need some pharmaceutical support if things get too bad. It doesn’t make you any less perfect.” She winked at Kenzie. “You don’t have to give up the rest of your superpowers.”
Kenzie laughed along with her. Not because it was that funny, but because she felt obligated. It was hard to admit that she wasn’t perfect and that she was constantly chasing that perfection, even though she knew it was unachievable. She was a grown adult, and it was hard to admit that she still wanted or needed her parents’ approval. She should have been long past that stage by now.
Dr. B met her eyes again, firm, holding the connection for a second longer than was comfortable. Kenzie tried to act as though she was much more “together” than she really was, keeping her eyes steady and not immediately looking away. Dr. B gave a nod and then turned to Zachary.
“I hope you don’t feel neglected today. You are part of this dynamic too. Kenzie’s stress and her feelings and what she is going through all affect your relationship and how you feel about yourself.”
“I’m here to support Kenzie. What she’s going through is important to me.”
Kenzie felt like it was a little too pat. A careful, perfect, supportive answer, bare of any emotional baggage. Not the way he really felt. Like Kenzie’s, his emotions could be a hot mess. Just because he appeared calm and collected, that didn’t mean he was.
“Zachary,” Dr. B’s voice was reproving. “Are you ‘fine’?”
Kenzie had to chuckle at that. One of the rules was that when one of them asked the other how they were, “fine” was not an acceptable answer. Or anything else that might be swapped in its place. No socially acceptable brush-off. Dr. B apparently didn’t think he was being truthful about his emotions either.
Zachary opened his mouth to object, squirming in his seat. He looked at each of them, looking for the right response.
He might not have been the perfection-seeking child that Kenzie had. In fact, he’d been a hyperactive, impulsive, anxious child who was always screwing up and who his mother deemed incorrigible. She abandoned him because she didn’t want to have to handle him and his siblings anymore. But he was still always seeking the approval of those close to him. Foster parents, his ex-wife Bridget, Kenzie, and his therapists. He was frantically trying to read them and figure out the right thing to say.
Because even though the poor guy had picked just the right thing to say, it had not rung true to either of them and they knew he was just trying to display the expected behavior.
“We talked about me too,” he said. “I don’t feel left out. I do want to help Kenzie.”
“I believe that. But I think there’s something else going on that you’re not talking about. Now, we have about five minutes left. I can give you another five minutes over that if you need it. So… let’s talk about what’s bothering you.”
Kenzie looked at him again. She hadn’t realized that there was something else going on beneath the surface. He had fooled her.
“I’m not… there isn’t really anything that I need to talk about. It can wait until next week.”
“Yes, we can talk about it in your next session. And if you start today, even with just five minutes, you will have something to think of between now and then and maybe some strategies to try so that you can be that much further ahead when we meet again.”
He stared at the carpet, fingers rubbing the arms of his chair anxiously. “I don’t think it’s anything. It’s just that Kenzie’s case… stirs some things up. Stuff starts rattling around in my brain.” He shrugged. “Not really anything new. There’s always something bouncing around in there.”
“It’s okay to say that this case is triggering for you, even though it has nothing to do with you.”
“I’m not… hijacking Kenzie’s issues.”
“You’re not,” Kenzie and Dr. Boyle both said at the same time.
“It’s just… like I said, stirring things up.”
“Memories?”
“Not… clear ones. Mostly just feelings. I can’t attach them to anything. And I know it is Kenzie’s case, not mine. And not anything to do with my life.”
He sounded frustrated. Kenzie could relate. She didn’t want to be feeling what she was, either. She didn’t want to be subject to emotions beyond her control. Illogical, inconvenient feelings.
“Okay. That’s understandable. And you’re doing a good job of trying not to butt in while Kenzie was discussing her feelings. But now the floor is open and you can talk about yours too.”
Zachary shrugged, staring down. Kenzie could see the sweat on his face. While he appeared to be calm, the emotions were clearly having an effect on him. Dr. B had worked with him long enough to notice the tells. Kenzie had been oblivious to them, dealing with her own issues.
“Not really much to say. Anxious. Jumpy. Feeling like… I need to watch everyone. I might be in danger.”
“Those are probably all pretty familiar feelings, considering your history.”
“Yeah.”
“You were able to identify that it was Kenzie’s case that triggered them?”
Zachary considered. “I guess so. They started when she was talking about it.”
“And they aren’t attached to any particular memory? Something about a young child? You or one of your siblings, or one of the other children that you lived with?”
“There have been a lot,” Zachary said helplessly. “Sometimes you see them hit. Sometimes… you just know that they were. Something telegraphs it, even if you can’t put your finger on it. I don’t remember any of the kids in the homes I was in dying, but I knew that could happen. I guess maybe as foster kids, we had talked about it; we knew of other cases where kids had died.”
“And you were a witness to at least one death in institutional care as well.”
“At Bonnie Brown. Yeah. But that wasn’t the same. I mean… it was, because they hit her when she bit one of the guards… but she died later, not because of that.”
“You don’t know that,” Kenzie interposed.
He looked at her. He had told her about Annie before. Reluctantly. She was one of the ghosts in his past. An autistic girl who had died in the children’s center Zachary had sometimes been housed at. In the room next to his.
“You don’t know that wasn’t why she died,” Kenzie pointed out. “She could have had internal bleeding or other injuries.”
“They told her parents that she’d just died in her sleep. I knew that… they left her in handcuffs all night, so she asphyxiated.”
“That’s what you assume, and you might be right. But they might not have told the parents the truth, or all of it. Things were a lot less regulated then. They might have told her parents that she died in her sleep when they knew very well that it was because of internal injuries.”
Zachary looked sick at the thought. Kenzie realized belatedly that she should have just kept this to herself. He had probably thought of Annie’s death as peaceful, fading away in her sleep because she wasn’t getting the oxygen she needed while restrained. He hadn’t thought of her as being in pain and bleeding out in the cell beside his. He put his face in his hands. Kenzie bit her lip and looked at Dr. B. She hoped her apology was clear. She hadn’t meant to make Zachary’s pain worse.
“It was a long time ago,” Dr. Boyle told Zachary. “And it’s best to know the full truth, or as much of it as possible, even if it is upsetting.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But it wasn’t Annie that you were thinking about specifically.”
“No, just… all of them. All the kids that I knew, or didn’t know.”
“And yourself. You were not killed, but you were physically abused. You have those memories, even if no specific ones are coming to your mind. Your physical abuse probably goes back just as far as that of the child Kenzie is dealing with.”
Zachary wiped away sweat or tears without pulling his hands all the way away from his face. “We always tried to protect the little ones. At home… in all the homes I was in. We always tried to keep them from getting their hands on the youngest children.”
“But you weren’t always able to. And early in your life, that child was you.”
“Michael didn’t have anyone to protect him.” Zachary sniffled. Kenzie’s eyes were burning again.
“No,” Dr. B agreed, looking at Kenzie to see if she had anything to contribute. “He was the only child?”
Kenzie nodded. “Yes. And I hope they never have any others.”
“They won’t stop,” Zachary said with assurance, probably thinking of his own parents rather than Cash and Terri-Lyn Wade. He didn’t know them or what their plans were as far as more children were concerned. But he knew that Zachary’s father had gone on to have several more children after Zachary and his full siblings had been taken into care. More victims of abuse. Who knew how many families and children the guy had around the state or surrounding area.
“Okay.” Dr. B was using her “closing” voice now. Wrap up, summarize, and send them on their way until the next session. “We can discuss this more at your next session if you like. I think it’s good if you each know what the other is going through right now. Do you agree?”
They looked at each other and nodded. Kenzie wasn’t sure how she would handle Zachary’s emotions on top of her own and everything else that was going on. Was she supposed to walk on eggshells around him? Not mention anything else about her case and investigation? That was what held the two of them together, their mutual interest in investigation and digging up the truth. If she couldn’t talk to him openly because it was triggering his anxiety, what were they going to talk about?
Dr. B gave them both understanding smiles and sent them on their way. For the next week, they would have to map their way through the minefield themselves.
25
They had their usual ice cream after the session, a tasty tradition Kenzie had instituted to help Zachary feel good about their therapy sessions. A sweet association that would tell his brain to look forward to the sessions instead of dreading them.
But it turned out that it was just as important a tradition for Kenzie herself. And after today’s session, she needed it more than ever before. They didn’t discuss anything heavy over ice cream. They rarely did. But it was an essential part of reconnecting after the intense “inner work” that was part of their session.
