Page 39 of Atlas
She followed me down the hallway to my living room. “You were saying?”
I sank to the armrest of my black designer couch. “Do you remember what I told you yesterday?”
“Which part?”
“About me growing up in a cult?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“There are a lot of grim details that I omitted, and what you’re picking up from me is perhaps that I wonder if you’d feel safe staying here if you knew what kind of man raised me.”
She stared at me, and then her face fell into the expression I’d seen so often in therapy sessions. “Atlas, do you feel judged by me?”
“No, but that’s because you don’t know all the details.”
“Then maybe you should enlighten me.”
“I’d rather not.”
She lowered her body to sit on a soft chair close to me. “Then let me ask you this; do you think I’m safe with you?”
My head moved back a little, and I crossed my arms. “Of course.”
“Your words and your body are not in alignment. Why is that?”
“Because I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Are you afraid my being here will bring out emotions in you that are unpleasant? Maybe evoke anger in you because I remind you of someone who died that night?”
“No. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then why should I not feel safe around you?”
“Because my father was a psychopath who abused and mistreated people.” My words were harsh and left an uncomfortable silence between us before she spoke in a soft voice,
“Yes, I read that much.”
I kept my eyes on the water view from the panoramic windows.
“Atlas, listen.”
Slowly, I focused in on her.
“From the first time I met you, I’ve sensed that you’re suppressing a lot of things. You’re very controlled and deliberate in everything you do, and it feels to me as if you’re afraid of losing control.”
She was right, but I didn’t tell her that.
“Atlas, what are you afraid might happen if you let loose a little?”
A small movie played in my mind with Jolene getting down on her hands and knees, naked. I rose from my seat to stop my thoughts and spoke in a harsher tone than intended. “Thank you, Doctor, but I didn’t sign up for a therapy session. I’ll ask my siblings if they’ll let you interview them, but I’m not offering myself up as a test subject, and I’m not your client either.”
Jolene tilted her head. “I never said that you were. You’re helping me, and I wanted to return the favor. It’s the least I…” She was interrupted by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter, and she ran to pick it up
“Hello? Yes, this is she. Are you calling from the police?”
“Put it on speaker,” I said, and without hesitation, she did.
“This is Sergeant Lopez, I’m calling you in regards to the voicemail you left about a threat that you received via text.”
