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“Oh, okay.” Working my lip and fiddling anxiously with the strap of my bag, I inhale a shaky breath and then let it go slowly. “Owen moved out of the house.”
Her eyebrows raise in surprise, and I wonder if he hadn’t shared that with her or if she was pretending for my sake. “Was this a mutual decision?”
“Not really. It was sudden, though not unexpected given the circumstances, I suppose.”
“What circumstances?” she asks. “Have things changed since the last time I saw you?”
“I had an affair,” I blurt out. “He said he’d talked to you about it?”
She sits back in her office chair. “What I have discussed with Owen in confidential. Are we talking about the same affair you had in New Orleans?”
“No. Yes.” I sigh. “Same man, but recently I’ve been with him again.”
Though she may have been surprised by Owen moving out, I can tell this is not the first time she’s heard that I slept with Bo again. “Mrs. Roberts, tell me something, do you love your husband?”
“Yes. With all my heart.”
“And what of this man. Do you love him?”
“Yes. With all my heart.” Hysterical laughter bubbles up. “I know it sounds crazy, that I could love two men at the same time. But I do.” I shake my head. “They are both expecting a decision from me, but it’s impossible. It feels like I’m standing at a fork in the road, and both ways look right, and they also both lead me to certain death. How can I choose? I feel so utterly lost.
“That’s why I’m here. I’ve told my friends, my dad about this. They each have a side, each giving me a biased opinion on who the right man is. Or they tell me exactly what I want to hear, being careful with my feelings. You on the other hand, I know you don’t like me. You can tell me exactly what I need to do with honesty.”
Doctor Riker cocks her head to the right, a deep frown between her brows. “What makes you think I don’t like you?”
“Your notes,” I say pointing to the pad.
“My notes?”
“Yeah. When I was here you looked at me and wrote with what I can only assume was judgement.”
She laughs, a real amused sort of laugh that makes me feel a little stupid for my assumption. Or maybe more so because I voiced it. Standing, she comes around the desk with her notepad and recorder in hand. “You want to see what I wrote about you?” she asks handing me the thing.
I nod my head and accept it, then begin to read.
Patient; Maria C. Roberts (Cris)
-Comes to me with husband, Owen, to openly discuss the extramarital affairs had by both.
-Posture is uncomfortable, body at slight angle away from husband. Arms crossed in front of chest.
-Short glances only at husband.
-Hostile.
-Distrust.
-Right arm twitches.
-Eyes close at mention of initial affair. Refusal to speak of it.
-Refer to tape CC546
Looking up in puzzlement, I ask, “Is this it?” I could have sworn she was writing every time I looked towards her.
“You’ll see I don’t write very much of the conversations. This trusty little recorder is what I rely on. If I take too much time writing, I can’t really listen. There are little nuances, inflictions of the voice that tell me so much more than the words can. Body posture is a big indicator I use as well.”
She takes the recorder and replaces the little cassette with one I hadn’t seen she had in her hands and presses the rewind button until it stops on its own. For a moment, I have to wonder why she doesn’t use slightly more modern technology, but I guess if she’s been doing this for twenty years, she might be accustomed to doing things a certain way.
