Overheard in a Dream. Torey Hayden

“I wish I could say yes. I intend to. It’s just been very busy since moving out here.”

      “At least you’re honest.”

      Desperate to move the conversation away from his embarrassing lack of intellectual reading, James said, “Would you like a cup of coffee? Then we can try to pull the girls apart.”

      Laura followed him into the kitchen. Hands still deep in her pockets she strolled around the room, studying the kitchen with the same care as she had his bookshelf. The way she circled the room, inspecting everything, reminded James of Conor.

      That brought to mind the fact that Laura had not yet mentioned her son. Normally parents he met outside the office pounced on him, anxious to ask how things were going, to tell of their child’s progress or get some free advice. James was grateful, of course, that she hadn’t done any of these things, since it would have been inappropriate to discuss a case outside the privacy of the office, but it was still curious that she never mentioned Conor at all, even casually.

      Taking the coffee to the table, James sat down. “I’ve been hoping to see you in the office,” he said.

      Laura ignored his comment. She lifted the coffee and sipped it. “Mmmm. Good coffee. Tastes like New York coffee.”

      “Can I get Dulcie to give you a call this week and make an appointment?” James asked.

      Laura’s brow drew down as she looked into the mug of steaming liquid. A silence developed and several moments slipped by with no response. “I’ve got to admit, I’m not really into that concept,” she said at last.

      “Which concept is this?”

      “Therapy.”

      “Why?” James asked.

      Setting the mug down on the table, Laura leaned forward on her forearms and stared into it as if some answer were in there. Finally she smiled at him. “Because everyone’s reality is different.”

      That was an unexpected answer. James cocked an eyebrow.

      “Therapy, the way I see it, trades on the assumption that ‘normal’ exists and that my perceptions, whatever they might be, should be brought into line with it,” she said. “Whereas I think there is no ‘real world’ out there. No absolute reality. Everything is subjective. So why should I accept what you tell me is reality?”

      “That’s an interesting take,” James said. “I get the impression you’re worried your perspective will be overridden or judged as not as good or acceptable as other perspectives. Perhaps you think that a therapist might get in there and try to change perceptions you don’t feel are wrong.” He smiled at her. “But that’s not quite what therapy is. It’s simply about fixing things that don’t work. Just as if your car stopped working. You’d take it to a garage and let a mechanic repair it. You wouldn’t expect him to do stuff you hadn’t wanted done or to customize the car to his liking and not give it back to you. You’d expect him simply to find out what’s wrong and repair it so that you can enjoy your car again. Same here, except that I work with people, not cars. Your relationship with Conor has stopped working. So you’ve brought Conor to see if I can fix that. And because relationships always involve more than one person, I need to see everyone involved to do my job properly. I’m not going to make anyone think or do anything they don’t want to. I’m just going to try and fix what’s broken.”

      Her cheeks flushed. She ducked her head and James saw tears come to the corners of her eyes. He sat back in a casual manner to lessen the intensity of the moment, because this wasn’t the time or the place. Indeed, he was deeply relieved that the girls had remained occupied playing in Becky’s room.

      “Sorry,” Laura murmured. “I hadn’t meant it to get this far.”

      “Not to worry.”

      “I think it was the ‘relationships stopped working’ comment.” She was tearful again. “Sorry.”

      “Not to worry.”

      “It’s just … well … ‘relationships not working’ is a bit of an understatement,” she said wearily. “Because it’s not just Conor …”

      James knew he ought to stop her right there. The appropriate place for this conversation was the office. Here at his own kitchen table, with the girls chattering in the next room and apt to burst in at any moment, was most definitely not the place to encourage the conversation in the direction it was going. But James sensed a rare chink in Laura’s armour, and if he had learned anything from that whole tragedy in New York, it was to recognize that sometimes you had to break the rules. So he said, “What’s happened?”

      “Alan left me.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that.”

      “It’s given me such a shock,” she said and tears thickened her voice.

      “So how did this come about?” James asked.

      “We had the stupidest argument. Over a lawnmower, would you believe?”

      James smiled sympathetically. “That must have been upsetting.”

      “It was so stupid. Al had been in town and found this lawn-mower on sale. It was a good price, but it was this huge, heavy thing and wasn’t self-propelled. I’m the one who cares for the yard, so any lawn-mower we get, I’m the one who’ll be using it. I wouldn’t even be able to push that beast. So I said he needed to take it back.

      “Al flatly refused. We’ve got this weird relationship regarding money. We always have. And that’s what this was about. He’d paid for it, so he wasn’t going to take it back, because then it was as if I’d said he made a bad choice with his money. It escalated from there, because I didn’t want to get stuck with this crap machine and he didn’t want to take it back. So in the end I just said, okay, I’m going to take it back. I went out and got in the pickup, because the lawn-mower was still in the back of it and I took off for town.

      “This isn’t like me,” she said and looked over. “I’m normally not at all confrontational. Before I even got into town, I was regretting I’d made a big deal out of it. I almost turned around then …” Her voice caught. “But I didn’t. I’d gone all that way, so I thought I might as well make use of it. So I went to the grocery store. When I got back to the ranch, he was gone. And, of course, he’d taken the kids.”

      Laura’s shoulders dropped. She let out a long, slow breath. “That was the very worst moment I’ve ever had.” The tears glistened yet again. “Coming into the house, finding it empty, realizing they were gone.”

      “When did this happen?” James asked.

      “Last Friday. Alan’s come back since. He was only gone over the weekend. Took the kids to his mum’s. But it made me realize I’ve got to do something. We’re in serious trouble.” She paused and looked over at James. “I’m thinking, okay, maybe I’ll do this with you. Maybe I’ll come in.”

      “Lawnmower?” Alan said in disbelief. “Laura thinks this was all about a lawnmower? She thinks I moved out of my house because I was upset over a fucking lawnmower?” Leaning back into the sofa, he shook his head. “Well, there’s a beautiful example of just why we’re going to hell: Laura lives in another world. She completely misses what’s happening in this one.”

      “You’re saying Laura commonly misinterprets things?” James asked, curious. Surely a good writer would be skilled at insight and interpretation.

      “Not ‘misinterprets’. Laura’s not misinterpreting. It’s more that she’s got her own version of the world. Things aren’t true and untrue to Laura. Not the way they are for most of us.” Alan paused and lowered his head, thinking. “How exactly do I explain it? I don’t want it to come off sounding like I think she’s a pathological liar or something, because it’s not that clear cut. Lying means there must be a truth somewhere and you know you’re not saying it. With Laura, it’s all much more fluid than that.