When One Door Opens (21 page)

“I can’t sit, Logan.”

Logan snorted. “I’m surprised you can
walk
after what we did yesterday with the butter.”

“That’s… not… I… didn’t mean....”

Taking advantage of Caleb’s flustered state, Logan dropped onto the couch, pulling Caleb onto his lap.

Caleb sat stiffly sideways over Logan’s thighs, his body tight and tense. “I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Why can’t we just go back to you helping me go out? It was working.”

Yeah, until you decided duct tape really could fix anything, broken bones included.
Logan put a hand on Caleb’s knee. “For the same reason I need to go to AA. You need a person outside of your life to talk to you, and to listen. Somebody who’s unbiased and objective. It’s important, baby. Trust me.”

 “I do trust you, but this therapist isn’t like the members of your AA group. They know what you’re experiencing. This therapist has no idea what a panic attack feels like. She’ll just think I’m nuts.”

A knock on the door caused Caleb to leap to his feet like his ass was on fire. When he took a step toward his bedroom, Logan scrambled off the couch and put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Let’s answer the door together.”

Logan maneuvered Caleb over to the door, reaching around him to unchain and unlock it. He left Caleb to do the rest.

When Caleb opened the door, he gasped like a man who’d been plunged into icy water.

A flash of long red hair and dark lipstick had Logan’s body reacting on instinct. He yanked Caleb behind him.

“I’m Dr. Samantha Ryan. I was told you were expecting me?”

As the adrenaline leaked away, Logan noticed the therapist’s resemblance to Karen Foster was superficial at best, just the same build and coloring. But Foster would never be caught dead in a blue-flowered blouse and tan slacks. “I’m sorry about that.” Logan opened the door farther and stepped back. “You look a little like someone we know.”

Ryan entered the apartment. “Someone you don’t like too much, I take it.”

Now that she was out of the dim lighting in the hall, Logan saw Ryan was likely in her forties. She had a leather briefcase in hand.

“I’m Logan. Caleb’s… uh… he wanted me to be here for this first meeting.” Logan closed and secured the door. As he turned around, he half expected Caleb to have disappeared. Instead, he spotted Caleb huddled against the end of the couch with his feet curled under him and his cast pressed against his chest.

“I’m s-sorry my uncle made y-you come here, b-but I c-can’t do this t-today.”

Ryan approached him with glacial slowness. “This is your home, Caleb. Whether you see me or not is your choice, not your uncle’s or anyone else’s. If you want me to leave, I will. I just ask that you try to take a few deep breaths for me. I would prefer not to leave you in such an agitated state.”

“My choice?” Caleb said, sounding like he didn’t believe her.

Ryan nodded. “Therapy is about what
you
want to accomplish, not what your uncle, or Logan, or anyone else wants. You have to want to make a change in your life or it will never happen.”

Closing his eyes, Caleb took three ragged breaths before reopening them. “I can end the session at any time?”

“Yes. I’ll just ask you to give me three deep breaths and then tell me you’re sure you want to stop the session.”

Watching the tension ease a little in Caleb’s shoulders, Logan understood Ryan’s approach. She was giving control back to Caleb. For a man whose will crumbled under the weight of fear, control was very important.

“Okay, I’ll g-give it a try.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” When she looked around the room, Logan snagged the chair from behind the desk and brought it over to her. “Thank you, Logan. Why don’t you have a seat on the couch as well?”

Logan looked over at Caleb. “Do you want me to stay? I could go hang out in the bedroom while you guys talk.”

Caleb held out his hand. “Stay with me, p-please.”

Lacing their fingers together, Logan joined him on the couch.

After taking a seat, Ryan opened her briefcase and took out a yellow notepad and a pen. “Would it be all right if I asked Logan a few questions, Caleb?”

 Logan had no interest in talking to the therapist, but Caleb assented readily.

“How long have you and Caleb known each other?”

Logan thought about it for a moment. “About a month and a half?”

“You sound surprised.”

“It feels like it should be longer, but my one-month parole review was just a couple weeks back.” The moment the words left his mouth Logan regretted them.
Ten seconds into the conversation and I’m admitting to being an ex-con. What the fuck?

Ryan’s gaze drifted to the cast on Caleb’s arm, and Logan felt his face heat. “I would never hurt him. That was an accident.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Logan,” she said, but Logan wasn’t sure he believed her. “We call the first session an assessment because I’m trying to understand Caleb’s current symptoms and overall functioning. Since it can sometimes be difficult for people to remember details from a panic attack, it’s not uncommon to bring a friend or family member to the initial meeting.”

Logan wished Caleb would speak up and explain what happened to his wrist, but Caleb remained annoyingly mute. “Just tell him you’re not here to commit him to the loony bin or anything, and he should be able to talk to you.”

“Is that a concern you have, Caleb?”

“My uncle h-has t-threatened b-before.”

“Over my dead body,” Logan growled.

Caleb squeezed Logan’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Okay, let’s talk about that. I talked with your uncle about your family medical history and reviewed your medical file. Does your web-design business bring in enough money to pay your bills?”

Caleb cleared his throat. “Yeah, it does. It was hard in the beginning, but I have a s-steady stream of c-customers now, mostly through word of mouth.”

“So what I hear you saying is that you have a successful business. I can also see you have a clean and safe home, and good physical health according to your medical file. Does it make sense for a judge to take away your freedom just because you have difficulty leaving your apartment?”

Caleb hesitated a moment before answering. “I guess not.”

“Don’t let TV programs and the movies fool you. An order of commitment or even a court-ordered psych evaluation isn’t something done lightly. In my twenty years of practice, I know of only one case of an agoraphobic being forcibly removed from her home. The woman was in her eighties and was no longer able to take care of herself. Is there any other reason why you might think you’ll be committed?”

“During a panic attack, it feels like I’m going crazy. Like I’m losing my mind.”

“The feelings you describe are common among agoraphobics. It’s my hope that I can help you deal with those symptoms.”

“What would you do?”

“I know the emergency room doctors gave you a prescription for Xanax for your anxiety. While the medication can help, I prefer a combination of cognitive behavior therapy and relaxation techniques for a long-term solution. CBT has two components. We work on changing distorted thinking brought on by the anxiety
and slowly expose you to fearful situations. I also show you meditation and relaxation techniques to help lower your overall stress levels.”

“That sounds like what Logan did when he tried to help me go out that first time. He had me drink this awf… uh, relaxing tea, and then we went to the roof.”

Logan sincerely hoped Caleb wouldn’t mention what they talked about once they got there. He didn’t think he could stand hearing Caleb describe Logan’s long-ago illicit sexual experience with a lacy guest towel to his therapist
.

“It is my understanding that, until recently, it had been three years since you left your apartment. Is that correct?”

“I went into my neighbor’s apartment and the stairwell a few times, but nothing beyond that.”

“Okay. I would like to give you some material to read, and then we can hopefully meet again on Wednesday. I’d like to talk more about your experiences with panic attacks. Would that be acceptable? You can have Logan here again if it makes you more comfortable.”

Caleb took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “I’m willing to meet again.”

Smiling, Ryan opened the briefcase again and pulled out a stack of pamphlets. She placed them on the coffee table instead of handing them directly to Caleb. “I honestly believe I can help you take back control of your life, Caleb. As a homework assignment, I’d like you to start thinking about some short-term goals.”

“What kind of goals?”

 “You could start with a list of places you would like to visit either on your own or with someone. Just give it some thought.”

Caleb bit his bottom lip. “I’ll… try.”

Logan leaned over and whispered, “Like the two of us going on an actual date instead of just a trip to the grocery store.”

Caleb ducked his head. “Admit it, you loved that hagfish soup.”

Logan grinned. “It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever eaten and I loved every bite.”

Caleb gave Logan a slight nudge in the ribs. “A date would be a good goal.”

C
ALEB
clung to Logan’s arm with an iron grip, trying not to think about how much he wanted to be back home in the peace and safety of his apartment. Why had he even agreed to this? What was so great about seeing a movie on the big screen as opposed to seeing it on a flat-screen TV in the comfort of one’s living room? It must have been the way Logan had practically salivated when he talked about the big tub of buttery popcorn he planned to devour. The lights of the multiplex seemed too artificially bright for the middle of the day, and the smell of stale popcorn made Caleb feel vaguely nauseous. As Logan paid for the tickets, Caleb shifted restlessly from foot to foot, wishing there was some way he could wiggle out of the coming ordeal.

“So, you wanna go find some good seats first, or get our snacks?” Logan smiled down at him with warmth in his eyes. He was doing a good job of hiding whatever concern he had to be feeling. Caleb appreciated that.

“I-I guess food.” Caleb would rather have slunk straight into the theater to hide in the darkness, but it was a sure bet Logan would drag him out again. There was no way they could skip the food step. He looked over at the lines in front of the food counters. It seemed as though a lot of people were milling around over there. “M-maybe we should w-wait until the lines are shorter.”

Logan’s only answer was to tug on his arm and drag him over to the shortest line. “Uh-uh. The longer we wait, the longer the lines might be. We came early for good seats and short lines, right?” They now stood behind a plump young woman who held a small boy by each hand.

“Margie, can we have soda?” asked one of them hopefully.

“No, honey, your mom only gave us money for popcorn.”

“But what if we get thirsty?” the other one asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Margie whispered. She adjusted the straps of her large shoulder bag, and a clanking sound issued from within. At that moment, she seemed to realize she might have been overheard and glanced nervously over her shoulder at Caleb and Logan.

Caleb tried to give her a reassuring smile, but his lips seemed to have forgotten how. He remembered his own days of sneaking snacks and drinks into movie theaters, back when he was a pre-teen trying to make his allowance stretch.

Logan nudged him with his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, you wanna get the biggest size and share? Or do you want your own?”

“Sh-sharing is good.” Caleb looked down at the floor, fighting a brief wave of dizziness.

“That guy looks like Shrek, only he’s not green!” one of the children whispered loudly.

The other one stole a quick look up at Logan before turning back to his brother with a look of contempt. “He does not. And only babies watch
Shrek
.”

“He does so. And
you
watched all the Shrek movies, and you liked ’em too.”

“That was a long time ago, Timmy.” The boy stuck his tongue out.

“That was last Saturday!” Timmy exclaimed.

Further argument was prevented by the necessity of ordering popcorn and fighting about the size. Timmy made a bid to get Margie to spring for some red licorice, but she shook her head. Caleb figured she had candy in that huge bag of hers as well as drinks.

Logan glanced at Caleb, his expression troubled. “Don’t tell me I look like an ogre,” he murmured.

This time Caleb’s lips remembered how to smile. “Only first thing in the morning. Once you have your coffee, you snap back to your usual gorgeous self.”

Logan grinned down at him. “Thanks, I think.”

Somehow they negotiated the hallway to their theater, even though Caleb could barely see over the pile of food he had been loaded down with. Logan had gone all out. It was a good thing they’d eaten only a small lunch. He didn’t think either of them would be up for eating dinner later if they even got through half this stuff.

Their movie was in cinema number four, unfortunately located at the farthest end of the hallway. Caleb’s eyes darted about, noting exits and washrooms. He thought Logan might have been surreptitiously doing the same thing, but it was hard to tell because of the way his eyes were glazing over at the taste of the popcorn he couldn’t stop stuffing into his mouth. They passed through the doors and surveyed the rows of banked seats. To Caleb’s great relief, their theater was practically empty.

“Where do you wanna sit?” Logan looked around. They had come in on a mezzanine and could go either down or up. “Up at the back?”

“No, here is fine.” Caleb indicated the seats closest to where they stood. “Near the door.”

“Okay. Pick the one you want.”

Caleb handed his bundle of snacks to Logan and started forward on shaky legs. He chose the second seat in from the aisle. If he needed to leave in a hurry, he didn’t want to have to climb over a lot of strangers. Nor did he want to be directly on the aisle, so it was better if Logan sat there. Tipping his seat down with one hand, he set his drink in the holder attached to his chair.