Yakima Ch. 11-12

Chapter 11 Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Our evenings during the summer were divided between sitting out on the deck or watching TV if we weren't at the ball park with Jack. Ali came to every game and cheered Jack on, always supportive and never critical if he made a mistake. She knew enough about baseball to know Jack was trying hard and getting better with each game. More importantly, Jack loved to play, just like his special older brother, Matt. With T-Ball, he was guaranteed to play in every game, so it was fun to watch him get joy from the weekly contests. He had a bunch of pals on the team as well as some on the other teams, so there was lots of social interaction.

Ali and Jack also accompanied me to every Babe Ruth game that Matt played. Matt was clearly Jack's idol, and he was very impressed with Matt's skills as he fielded and hit. When Matt wasn't playing third base he was in left field and, with a mid-three-hundreds average, he was batting clean-up. Matt was also the alternate captain to his friend, Donny Scroggs, the catcher. He was so much happier in Babe Ruth than he would have been as a sophomore on the high school team. I wondered if he'd even try out for the school team in his junior year.

By the time the third treatment was done in mid-July, I could begin to see the results. Dr. Sylvan suggested two more treatments should be enough and then the reconstructive surgery on my ear could be scheduled. I wasn't looking forward to anything but getting this whole process over with. It was unpleasant and painful, but since it was working, I tolerated it.

My other problem, however, had not gone away. I wondered why I still kept my townhouse. It was a monthly mortgage payment plus utilities for no purpose. Was I destined to be living with Reese, Ali, and the children permanently? I resolved that was not going to happen. As much as I appreciated what they felt they were doing for me, I was getting the impression I was no longer in charge of my life. It had been taken over by two strong-willed women, aided and abetted by three children. When I was finished with Dr. Sylvan, I would be moving back to the townhouse, no matter what.

I think the women and children noticed my change in mood over the summer. I wasn't as happy as I normally would be. I was irritable with them now and then, usually for no good reason. It was better at work. I didn't feel the pressure there. I knew my job, I did it well, and the personal relationships were straightforward and professional. It was at home that I was uncomfortable. If even I noticed it, then it was probably worse than I realized. I didn't want to be angry or testy with anyone, let alone my temporary extended family. In early August, I made a decision and called Dr. Menard.

"Doctor, can you recommend a psychologist ... or maybe even a psychiatrist for me? I'm having trouble with anger and frustration, and I'm sure I'm hurting those around me at home."

"Mr. Rideout, I suggest you contact your insurance carrier. They will have a list of possible choices. Make sure you let them know this is a continuing consequence of your injuries. I'm sure you will be covered."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll do that. I also wanted you to know that I can see the improvement that Dr. Sylvan is making, so I'm more confident that I'll be restored to something closely approximating normal ... the way I was."

"I'm very pleased to hear that. Good luck to you, Mr. Rideout."

I wasn't surprised he couldn't give me a direct referral, but I should have realized our insurance carrier for the city would be able to. I called their information number and got a list of potential doctors and practitioners to use. I had no idea who to use or how to decide, so I chose to begin with psychologists. Not all of them were doctors. I picked a name that sounded likely and called his office.

"I'd like to make an appointment with Mr. Farnsworth, please," I told the receptionist on the phone.

"It's Ms. Farnsworth, sir. Can I get your name and telephone number please?"

We went from there, giving her my basic contact information, where I worked and that this would be an insurance claim. She indicated she could fit me in for a "preliminary discussion" with Ms. Farnsworth early next week. That discussion would apparently decide if she was the right person to help me.

I said nothing to anyone other than my boss about my decision to get some professional help. He was most supportive and authorized my requested weekly time off. I almost had second thoughts about the person I chose when I realized it was a woman. On the list of potential psychologists, she was simply listed as M. L. Farnsworth. However, I decided not to prejudge her and would determine whether we were a good fit after we talked.

The initial interview began more like my having coffee with a new neighbor. She was trying to get to know me and more about me, I assumed. I was trying to figure out what she might be able to do to help me. It was too early to tell. It wasn't until about fifteen minutes after we introduced ourselves that she got down to some key questions.

"Tell me why you sought out help, Mr. Rideout."

"I'm not who I used to be. This past year has been a horror story that I hope I will never have to repeat. I discovered my wife was having an affair and planned to leave me and marry her lover. She and he were going to extract a punishing amount in alimony and child support until my lawyer put a stop to it. My divorce was final just before the end of the year and I still have good access to my children.

"At a New Year's party, I met a woman and we seemed to become very close in a very short period of time. Almost the moment we became intimate, I had an accident in my car and was severely injured. I've been recovering from that accident and I'm still in treatment for damage to my face and ear," I said, pointing to the right side of my head.

"As part of my recovery, I moved back into my old home and my ex-wife and my new lady take turns looking after me. Other than the treatments to restore my face and ear, I'm completely healed. However, I can't seem to break away from this situation and regain the life I had before. I feel like I've lost control of my life. I don't want to hurt anyone and I am grateful for all their help, but I need to find a way to get my life back in order and regain some control over my future."

"That's a very confusing story, Mr. Rideout. You say you are living with your ex-wife and she's being assisted by your new lady friend? Explain, please."

I started at the beginning with my discovery of Reese's affair with Gordon Winters, my moving out, the original demands of their lawyer, my lawyer's successful strategy and the decision of the judge. Then I told her about the New Year's party, my romance with Ali, and getting to know Jack, her son. I also told her about Winters abandoning the marriage to my ex-wife and the strategy to make him responsible for his promises. Finally, I told her about the accident, the recovery in hospital, the out-of-court settlement and my going to live in my old home.

"That's a fascinating story, Graham, if I may call you that," she smiled. "Please feel free to call me Mary."

I think we both had come to the conclusion that Mary Farnsworth was interested in my situation and wanted to work with me. I decided then and there that I would. She was in her mid-fifties, I guessed. She was slim, gray-haired, with piercing gray eyes and a friendly smile. I liked her style and her professional manner. I felt I was in good hands.

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you about this. On the face of it, you're very fortunate, all things considered. You've at least socially reconciled with your ex-wife and have found a woman you think you may be in love with. You have a fine job and a great relationship with your children and Ms. Bledsoe's son. What is it that doesn't feel right?"

I paused before I answered. "This is going to sound very ... sexist ... Mary. I feel like I'm being dominated by these two women. I'm being told what to do and when to do it and that's not the kind of relationship I want with either of them. Reese ... Clarissa ... is the mother of my children and I want a civil relationship with her. I have some very fond memories of our life together and I don't want that to be overshadowed by her mistake. But there isn't going to be any reconciliation. That will never happen.

"Ali is another matter altogether. There is absolutely nothing in her personality or physical makeup in common with Reese. She is very smart, driven, strong-willed, passionate, protective ... I could probably go on, but I'm sure you get the idea. As much as I admire all she has accomplished as a single mother, I'm looking for an equal partner. I'm wondering if she wouldn't want to continue as the dominant figure in our relationship. Is that who she really is? As much as I love being with her, I don't think I could handle a steady dose of that."

Mary sat back, her note pad in her lap, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Have you ever talked to her about your feelings?"

"No. I admit, I'm chicken," I grinned. "With all they've done for me, I feel guilty about my state of mind. It would seem disrespectful of their effort to care for me when I needed help. I really don't know how to approach them ... particularly Ali."

"Yes ... I can imagine that would be difficult. Our hour is almost up, Graham. Can I assume you would like to continue these sessions?"

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm hoping we can find a solution to my concerns."

"I'm going to send you a questionnaire in a couple of days. You should keep this private from your family and others. I want you to give this some thought and try and be as honest as you can with your answers. What I want to do with it is attempt to determine a course of action for you. I'm not a believer in medication and I don't think you are depressed. I think between us, we can work out a practical solution to your concerns."

"Okay ... I'm not a big pill person myself, so that sounds fine to me. Would you send it to me at my office? That way no one will see it but me." I passed her my card with my office email address on it.

"Excellent, Graham. I'll look forward to seeing you next week at the same time, if that's convenient?"

"Yes ... that will work. Thank you, Mary. I hope we can come up with a strategy that will help me get over this hump."

"I'm pretty confident that, between us, we can create a plan."

I left the office feeling a bit more upbeat and confident than when I entered. Now it was a matter of how I would go about solving my worries.

On Wednesday morning, my emails contained a message from Mary Farnsworth with an attached questionnaire. I printed it out and looked it over. I could see it was going to take some time and thought to answer the questions. Some of them were very personal in nature and I wondered how they related to my problems. I put that out of my mind and began, as time permitted, to answer the questions.

I finished the questionnaire on Friday afternoon and emailed my completed copy back to her. At least she would have a chance to look at it before our early afternoon appointment on Monday. I was reasonably confident that my answers were a candid view of my feelings.

I found a number of little projects to do around the house to keep me occupied over the weekend. It also helped me with my attitude. As yet, neither Ali nor Reese had commented about my behavior. I wondered about that. Perhaps they thought it was related to the treatments and surgery on my face. I was glad I hadn't taken my frustrations out on any of the children. They didn't deserve that and I would do everything possible to prevent myself from making that mistake.

It was a relief to go back to work on Monday morning. I found I was anxious to learn what Mary Farnsworth thought about my answers to her questions. It didn't take long for her to get to the point.

"When was the last time you had intimate relations with Ms. Bledsoe, Graham?"

"Uhhm ... let me think. It's been a while. It hasn't been convenient lately. Either Jack was around, or my children or Reese were present. We haven't had much alone time, come to think of it."

"Do you miss it?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes ... of course. As I pointed out on my answers," I said, indicating the questionnaire, "she is a very dynamic lover."

"Do you think she's avoiding you?" she asked.

I thought for a moment. "No ... I don't think so. I mean, she was all over me when we came back from the sessions in Seattle. We usually go to her place before we pick up Jack from school."

"So you had relations after your most recent visit to Seattle, two weeks ago?"

"Yeah. That's right. I didn't realize it was that recent," I admitted, wondering why I didn't remember it.

"How was it?" she asked.

"Great. It always is with Ali."

"Is she the aggressor when you make love?"

"I guess she is," I agreed. "I don't mind. It helps me know what she wants. I'm not guessing then."

"What other alone time do you have with Ms. Bledsoe?"

"Just the travel to and from Seattle," I said.

"And what do you talk about during that trip. That would be about four hours or so with just the two of you."

"Uhhm ... nothing really important. I mean, sometimes we don't talk at all. Is that strange?"

"A little bit ... for lovers who are new to each other," she said.

"Yeah ... well ... that's probably my fault. I get lost in my thoughts and don't really think about anyone or anything else."

"Is that common for you? Getting lost in your thoughts?" she asked.

I thought about her question for a moment or so. "Mostly since the accident, I guess," I admitted.

"What do you remember about the accident?" she asked, changing topics abruptly.

"Not much, it happened so fast. One minute I was cruising along and the next, that big pickup was right in front of me."

"Do you remember your last thoughts before impact?"

I sat back, closed my eyes and revisited the moment. "That stupid bastard! He's going to kill me," I said, almost involuntarily.

"You've been hiding that, haven't you?" she suggested.

"Yeah ... I guess I have. I guess I thought it was all over then. How come it took this long to come out?" I asked.

She shrugged. "No one ever asked you before, I'd guess."

"That's true," I said quickly. "No one ever did."

"So, you thought you were going to die, but that didn't happen. Were you disappointed or elated when you discovered you were still alive?"

"What kind of question is that? I was glad to be alive, of course. Not happy-glad, but I had survived and still had most of my body parts as far as I could tell."

She smiled. "That's a pretty normal response in the very beginning. It's after that you begin to wonder what, if anything, might not heal or be right in the future. That's the first thing you want to hear from your doctor."

"Yeah ... that's exactly right. Okay, so I'm alive ... now tell me what the damage is."

"Were you conscious most of the time after you woke?"

"Off and on for a day. Then it was mostly on. I had badly broken ribs and a broken leg. I couldn't really move. I was stuck in one place with nothing to do but wait until someone came to talk to me. That was no fun. I got to know every dimple and flyspeck on that ceiling."

"How did you feel when you got your first visitors beside the hospital staff?"

"Really good. It was my parents, and I remember making a lame joke about not being able to get up and greet them. Mom was very weepy, but Dad was his usual calm self. After that, the kids came, then a couple of days later, I was moved out of ICU and had a steady parade of visitors."

"Was Ms. Bledsoe one of your first non-family visitors?"

"Yeah ... the first. She was trying to put on a brave face, but she was pretty upset about the accident and my condition."

"Anyone conspicuous by their absence?" she asked.

"No ... everyone visited at one time or another, most of them several times."

"Tell me about your relationship with your ex-wife," she said, changing direction once more.

"Well, that's complicated. We're kind of friends again, but nothing like what we were. I still love her, but I hate her for what she did. Twenty years! Twenty fucking years I've loved her and only her!" I cried before apologizing for my language.

"That's all right, Graham. I understand. And it's that anger you feel that's interfering with your getting past the separation, divorce and now ... your injuries."

"So, what do I do about it?" I said, looking at her and shaking my head. "How do I get past it? There's got to be a way."

"Time and substitution, Graham. It will take time to come to terms with your ex-wife's actions. It's impossible to know how long, but it will come. You're too smart and too alive to dwell on the past forever. Substitution is the danger area. Right now, substitution means Allison Bledsoe. Almost immediately after your separation, she came into your life full force. You had no time to consider if you were ready for her or anyone else. She jumped the queue and grabbed on. And that's bothering you too.

"You never really got an opportunity to think about someone new. The decision was taken out of your hands. She simply decided she was going to be the next woman in your life and that was that."

I thought about what Mary Farnsworth was saying and knew she was right. I really didn't have any time to think about what came next. Two days after the divorce was final was my first encounter with Ali and we were off to the races without a backward glance. How crazy was that? More to the point, my behavior was completely foreign to who I am. When I looked back, I couldn't believe I'd plunged into a personal relationship with another woman that quickly.

"How did that happen?" I asked myself aloud.

"Based on what you've told me about Ms. Bledsoe, I'd say she simply overpowered you. You probably weren't given much of an opportunity to resist. I'd like to meet her sometime. She sounds like a very strong personality."

"She is. Maybe that's what's bothering me too. I feel like she's deciding my future. Not in a domineering way, but making me feel like it's the only realistic option."

"Now you're getting it," Mary smiled. "She's steering you in the direction she wants you to go. You're not comfortable about that ... at least some of the time. You want to keep some control over your life, so that's what is bothering you."

"But, she's so ... different ... from Reese," I said, rationalizing my thoughts. "So alive and energetic. I'm not sure how to say no to her."

"Try it and see what happens. When you get the feeling she's pushing you in a direction you're not happy with, push back. See how she responds. She's clearly had an emotional impact on you. I can tell by the way you talk about her. And ... for what it's worth ... I think it's a good thing she's completely different than your ex-wife."

"She's not hard to like," I explained. "My parents, my children, even Reese, all like her and get along with her. I've met her mother and she's a very nice woman. I've already told you about Jack and how much I like him. I think I need to slow things down, though. This is all happening too fast for me."

"I think that's wise. Be sure of yourself with whomever you choose to be with. It may be Allison Bledsoe after all, but you want it to feel right all the time."

That ended the session, but I had a lot to think about. My main thoughts were about how to gain back some control of the relationship between Ali and me. I would have to bide my time until a situation presented itself that called for me to take the lead.

Chapter 12 Stiffening My Resolve

I was looking at my face in the mirror. It was a week after the supposed final treatment. I was satisfied that it was as good as it was likely every going to be. I could live with it. There was very little evidence of scarring and that was the objective. The color of the skin was now what I thought of as normal and I didn't feel people would even notice any difference. All that was left was the minor surgery on my ear. I felt myself breathe I sigh of relief.