Page 37 of In the Line of Ire

"It'snot just opening the door. It's the..." I waved my hand at thefloor.

"Myblood," interjected Solomon. "She sees me in her mind slumped overevery time she goes there. She sees me bleeding out anddying."

"But youdidn't die," said Polly.

"But hecould have! What if you died?" I asked, turning to him.

"Ididn't die," said Solomon simply.

"Is'what if' on your mind a lot?" asked Polly.

I openedmy mouth to speak, then paused. Was it on my mind a lot? Only everytime the doorbell sounded or we discussed ordering restaurant food.It happened when I thought about Solomon’s house and every time Imade an excuse not to go there. "I guess," I said.

"How doyou feel about those 'what ifs'?"

"Horrible. It could happen any time, when I least expect it.Or even when I do."

"I thinkwe need to separate the 'what if' feeling from the actual door,"said Polly. "You're conflating the two when they are separateissues. Your anxiety over your husband’s life has nothing to dowith the doorway. Your fear stems from not wanting to answer thedoor and we can work on that. And as for the doorway where itactually happened? You can walk though that door any time you wantto. In fact, I recommend you do just that. Walk through it. Standon the stoop. Open and shut the door a hundred times and remindyourself that it's just a door regardless of the violence thathappened there. What happened is forever relegated to the past. Youcan't change it but you can keep that fear from influencing yourfuture."

"It'sthat easy?"

"No,it's not easy at all! But being afraid of something so innocuousonly encourages you to build it into something bigger. You need tochange your whole perspective."

"How canI if I don't feel safe living there?"

"You canmake yourself feel safe in multiple ways. Install basic securitymeasures such as peepholes; and a deposit box strictly for packageson the stoop; and a doorbell with a motion-sensor camera in it. Youcan take someone with you when you go through the door again," saidPolly. "You can approach this in any way you choose to but lettingyour fear control you is something you cannot do. That's nothealthy."

"Iknow," I said as Solomon squeezed my hand. "So I need to go back tothe house?"

Pollynodded. "That's your homework until next time."

"When doI have to go there?"

"Anytimeyou like. Don't overthink it. I'll see you again nextweek?"

Solomonand I thanked her, leaving her office in silence. "How do youfeel?" asked Solomon when we reached my car.

"Okay, Ithink. You?"

"Now italmost seems manageable. I think we can do this."

"I neverthought I'd be in therapy. I always felt left out when it became sopopular and everyone else started doing it," I said.

"Now youknow what all the fuss is about. Are you ready to eat?"

"I willbe soon. Shall we go out, pick something up, or I couldcook?"

"Ifyou're cooking, I'll pour the wine," said Solomon. "I'll follow youhome." He walked me to my car, then jogged over to his own. While Iwaited, I checked my cellphone for more frantic messages and foundone from a worried Lily about a phone call she received from mymom. I replied, telling her to ignore my mom and to say I hadanother case which was keeping me busy. We pulled out and drovehome. By the time I got there, I felt a little more relaxed. Thetherapist's words still echoed in my head but I had to admit shemade some sense. I was allowing my fear of the doorway to overwhelmme. It was only a door. A slab of wood that filled a gap. But evenas I thought that, I had to ignore the sudden image of a dull andrapidly spreading red stain that I saw the last time I went there.Maybe Polly was right and I should go back there to face my fears.Maybe I could do that another day. Right now, however, I was goinghome.

Chapter Nine

Serenacalled my cellphone as I walked into the mall. I paused, wonderingif I should answer it, then decided I'd better.

"Did youget my purse?" she asked without preamble.

"No?"

"Whynot?" she demanded.

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