PROMIS Counselling Clinic

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

Bill found himself distracted. How much could a place like this cost? Would they take someone if they wanted to prevent a problem? Could Bill swallow his pride enough to get help from a place like this? So many thoughts flooded his head, he hardly responded with more than a smile and a nod when Reese said “I’ve heard a lot about you too. “You’re Damien’s best friend! His roommate! Glad to finally meet you!”

She rummaged through the basket in search for whatever goodies Damien had packed. Bill played with his fingers awkwardly, watching, that uneasy feeling one always got when they stood in a hospital helplessly looking around for too long overtook him and he wondered if it would be rude to sit down or not.

“I can’t believe he keeps bringing me all of this stuff! I swear he’s gotten me entire library worth of books already! Not to mention all of the DVDs and coloring books!” She smiled fondly and laughed softly. “He’s so sweet! I’d be going crazy in here if it weren’t for him. Be sure and tell him thank you from me when you see him!”

“Um... Yeah. Damien’s great.” Bill felt his face warm with pride. He loved Damien as much as he loved his own siblings and was blessed to have him. “And I will. I’ll see him tonight, I’m sure.”

“It was also very sweet of you to come and bring this to me! You really didn’t have to do that.”

Bill really didn’t have to. Maybe it was some subconscious hero complex that brought him here. Or maybe it was just a blind obligation to Damien. Whatever it was, Bill didn’t have to be here, but he was rather glad that he was. Reese stumbled across the container of food Bill had packed, still warm with condensation forming in the empty clear spaces.

“What is this,” she asked, turning it around in her hands, examining it.

“I thought you might get tired of the food they serve here. So I brought you a new option. Bon appetite!” Bill said simply. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese wasn’t quite sure what to make of the food in front of her. Damien knew the strict rules that were enforced here. People were not supposed to bring in outside food, especially to the eating disorder wing of the building. Looking at the tubberware container, the dish inside looked rich and delicious and exactly the sort of thing she would have eaten without hesitation a few years ago. It certainly wasn’t the case now. She hadn’t eaten really anything in about the last week…the counselors were working her to very bites of incredibly bland food.

“I thought you might get tired of the food they serve here. So I brought you a new option. Bon appetite!” Bill declared. So it hadn’t been Damien’s idea…it was Bill’s. Reese was rather touched by the gesture; cooking for a sick girl he’d never met. She certainly didn’t want to be rude and refuse to eat it. Besides, she was here to try and learn to eat again. Surely a few bites of the dish would be good for and would help her make strides.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” Bill asked and Reese shook her head.

“No, this looks great! Thank you so much. It’s really thoughtful of you to bring this,” she said with a bright smile. “Come and have a seat.” She motioned to the couch where she went and sat too, opening it and after a brief moment of hesitation, taking a few small bites. It tasted incredible really but she couldn’t help but think of all of the calories and fat in this food. She decided to try talking to Bill and hopefully it would take her mind off of it.

“So Damien says you worked at the Opera House,” she began. “I thought you looked pretty familiar. I must have seen you around backstage a million times before!” She giggled and smiled warmly at Bill. She took a few more bites, about half done with the food before setting it aside. She felt fatter even as she sat there. “Where do you work now? I don’t think he mentioned that…”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Sorry this is so late!! BiC:


William MaCarthy

“No, this looks great! Thank you so much. It’s really thoughtful of you to bring this,” she said with a bright smile. “Come and have a seat.”

“If you insist…” Bill said and awkwardly made his way to the couch with Reese where he sat a comfortable distance from her. Not too close, not rudely far away. Just right.

“So Damien says you worked at the Opera House,” she began. “I thought you looked pretty familiar. I must have seen you around backstage a million times before!”

Bill slowly began putting faces to names, scrolling through the list of dancers he could remember. One obvious one leapt to the forefront of his mind and he turned the page quickly to get to the next name. Reese. Okay, yes. He remembered her. She was the small one. Bill looked at her again. Yes. Very small. He felt his heart bleed a bit.

He watched her eat the food with pride. She seemed to like it. Bill had done a good deed and he was now reaping the reward.

“Where do you work now? I don’t think he mentioned that…”

“Oh, you know… Around. Wherever I can find work. I needed a break from all the structure. But I’m living the dream going from theatre to theatre, job to job. It’s nice to be marketable, you know?”

In more than one way, Bill thought to himself with a smile. “I see you liked the food. Are you done?”

Bill looked around the room. It was a nice facility. Maybe he’d come by and check out their rehabilitation for…

No. He didn’t need it. He was fine, really. They were prescription drugs for when he hurt his back and nothing more… even if they did relieve more than the pain in his back.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

He was driving fast along a long, empty stretch of highway, the wind whipping wildly in his brown curls, the taste of road dust in his mouth and the sun warm on his face. He looked at the empty blacktop behind stretching far out in his rearview mirror and a pair of familiar blue eyes flashed in his rearview mirror. Certain they were Victorine’s he felt his heart dully ached. That was, until he hit the owner of his eyes. Bill stopped his car and stepped out to find Damien crumpled on this flat middle of nowhere. “Damien! My God! I killed you! Damien, I’m so sorry!” Bill scooped up his lifeless, limp body and held it to his chest, rocking his friend like a baby. He had killed him. Bill was a murderer. A drug-addicted murderer.

And then another car, exceeding the speed limit came and hit them both. Bill watched his blood spill over the asphalt, gripping Damien’s hand, prepared for any kind of hell that awaited him. He deserved it.

Just before the life drained from him completely, Bill woke up, wet and screaming. He hadn’t even known he had been sleeping. From the withdrawal, insomnia plagued him, but since this half-life drug treatment started, sleep was becoming a more frequent thing. Unfortunately, it was bringing with it these ghastly nightmares that Bill carried around with him all day like a heavy coat or a ball and chain—always there, weighing him down.

There, beside him was the man who was working with him from his first day here, Jean Grandarette “Monsieur MaCarthy, are you okay? You were screaming and it’s time for your treatment.” Bill glanced at the clock. So it was. He held out his pin-cushioned arm as Jean pricked yet another hole in the black and blue patches of the underside of his elbow. Bill didn’t feel it through his worry at his dream. It had been so real and so true. In a way, he had killed Damien. He accidentally took all the fun out his life and turned him into this blubbering worry wart of a human being. He killed his fun-loving side, his free time, and Bill couldn’t shake the feeling he had killed something in their friendship, that a part of Damien hated him for it. He really didn’t blame him.

“Was it a nightmare? Because you know I have to document it and write it down.”

Bill nodded. “I… killed Damien with my car and then I got hit, too and died…”

“Not the same Damien that’s here to see you, is it?”

Something in Bill lit up. Damien wasn’t dead. They would talk this out and everything would be fine, just like always. Like that time they sat in that well-crafted tree house they had made in Bill’s backyard growing up.

“He’s here? Damien’s here?” Bill asked. “Why didn’t you say so? I’m fine, send him in.”

Jean left, the information h needed garnered and Bill pulled out a mirror from the little drawer beside him. He looked terrible. Bill touched his grey, ashen face, rubbing at his scruffy chin, pressing on his puffy, dark baggy eyes. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. He was gaunt and colorless and knew Damien would notice he looked like sh*t. But Bill would pretend he looked perfect. It was something he did well. He hated the situation, but was relieved at the progress he was making. The leaps and bounds he had made in this little bucket of quarantine and disappointment was astounding. He slept more, found himself taking less swims in his own sick, had fewer and fewer seizures by the day. But every day, he woke up to the taste of bile in his mouth with disgust at himself, disappointment at his life situation, fear of telling someone and of getting a roommate that wasn’t Damien. They could get rid of his addiction, but they couldn’t get rid of the terrible feelings the memories would leave, forever scarred on his brain.

He put the mirror down and flipped channels while he waited for Damien to come in and see him.

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Nobody knew where Damien was today except Ben MaCarthy. Damien had shut off his phone, logged off of Facebook and his email, and refused to make plans with anybody. He had a date today. A date with the rehab center and his best friend, Bill MaCarthy.

Damien still wondered how the hell Bill had gotten hooked on valium. It was Bill. Guys like Bill, that was, funny, upbeat, sarcastic, ambitious, social guys didn’t need drugs. Didn’t do them. No way. Not the genuinely funny, upbeat, sarcastic, ambitious and social guys. Posers, yeah, but not Bill. His head swam the first time he’d seen the brown bottle in the medicine cabinet, but Bill had assured him then that it was for his back, which made sense.

But now they were here. Rehab center. Damien was getting to know the staff pretty well; they liked him, pitied him probably, because he was always here to support a friend in need. First Reese, now Bill. How did his friends—his normal, wonderful, awesome friends—end up here?

Simple. Some doctor messed up Bill’s prescription. Overdosed him. And now he was hooked. Like a fish, writhing and trying desperately to cling to life.

Bad metaphor for withdrawal symptoms, but still, it was true. Bill had suffered withdrawal, shaking and screaming and sobbing until he was admitted to the clinic. Then, like now, Damien stayed at his side and did what he could. What limited things he could do.

Like lie to his parents and other would-be well-wishers.

“Oh, Bill’s on holiday,” he said. “I have to stay, though. Deadlines for the Rouge, you know.”

Forget that he was doing mostly street art these days. If his parents were suspicious, they didn’t show it. Another one of Damien’s tasks had been to keep Ben in check.

“Yes, you can come for a visit, if you really think it’ll help. No, we are NOT changing Bill’s ringtone to Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab”, Benjamin. God, you’re such a d*ck sometimes.”

He also took care of Cat, who was acting weird and getting way too fat for Damien’s liking. He’d started feeding it health cat food, but apparently, even cats hated diets. He cleaned the apartment, he restocked the fridge, he took calls, he paid bills… Really, Damien was going to make a d*mn good secretary one day. He now had wild respect for Mrs. Mildred and his mum for being stay at home mums and doing all that, plus raising kids. If Bill had kids, Damien wouldn’t know what to do with them. How to tell them what Bill was up to.

He certainly didn’t know how to tell Mrs. Mildred when she called.

“He’s out,” Damien said. “Can I take a message?”

He was tired of lying and tired of multitasking, but most of all, Damien was tired of worrying. He came to the rehab clinic today because they were finally letting him visit for real as opposed to awkwardly hang around in the waiting room, hoping to glean a bit of insight on Bill’s condition.

And Damien was nervous. His stomach hurt; he thought he might vomit. Which was weird because he’d known Bill all his life. Never once had seeing Bill made Damien want to vomit. Nerves, he guessed. Damien was never good with handling stress appropriately.

He paced outside Bill’s bedroom door for a good two minutes before pushing it open and sticking his head in the crack. A big, childish smile overtook Damien’s features, except his eyes. Seeing Bill in a rehab clinic wasn’t exactly an occasion meant for smiles.

“Mind if I interrupt a minute?” Damien asked, slipping into the room through the door sideways. He was going to ignore Bill’s papery skin and raccoon eyes if it killed him. “Or longer, if that’s all right?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

William MaCarthy

The door creaked open and Bill let the smile wiggle onto his face. Damien was coming to see him and if he was lucky, Damien wouldn’t be hating him, but loving him through this just like he had been for the past weeks, like he had when Victorine was up to her usual whoring and heartbreaking schemes. When he actually saw Damien’s face, with the smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, Bill gave his best smile, too. The best one he could give in this terrible place, knowing full well it probably looked sickly.

“Mind if I interrupt a minute?” Damien said and Bill turned the television off. “Or longer, if that’s all right?”

“I’d hardly say you’re interrupting. I have all the time in the world.” Thankfully, he did. If he had kept overdosing, he might not even have been there in the rehab clinic, but buried six feet below ground. The thought terrified him. I’m so happy to see you. Come here.” Bill reached out his bruised, punctured arms for a hug.

If it was the last thing he did, Bill would pretend this was normal, like there wasn’t a sanitary rehabilitation clinic surrounding them. If it was the last thing he did, he would beat this; get cleaner than a Sunday bath in holy water. If it was the last thing he did, he would maintain his relationships, particularly this one with Damien: the man who had stayed by his side from day one of this entire terrible situation. It was a large task, but one Bill was willing to take on.

[The Exodus]

OOC: Natalie and Jude BIC:


Natalie Blackwood

Natalie didn’t believe in karma, cosmic justice, or divine intervention. She believed in opportunities and those too stupid to seize hold of them. So when a therapist overheard Natalie and Ashton’s conversation in Paris bistro and offered Natalie her card, Natalie didn’t see it as a stroke of God, but rather as a chance to do something she’d considered doing for years now. She and Lucian had tried couple’s counseling once. That was her last experience with therapy before becoming one of Dr. Boniface’s patients. She had to admit it left he skeptical. Their marriage counselor once forbade them from having sex for a week.

“You know it’s just a reverse-psychology ploy,” Lucian had said on the drive home. He checked the rearview mirror as he spoke and did not look at Natalie. “What she’s hoping is that you and I will form a rebellious unit against her and go at it like teenagers.”

“That’s absurd,” said Natalie. “Why would you say that? Why would you even think that?”

“I read it in a magazine.”

“Oh, that’s great, Luc. You’re getting marriage tips from, what, Cosmopolitan?”

“Reader’s Digest, actually.”

Natalie sometimes wondered how they’d become that couple who used self-help articles in Reader’s Digest in a last-ditch attempt to save their marriage. They hadn’t, by the way, had sex that night. Instead, they had lasagna and a row about Damien’s college tuition. And the next session had been spent not speaking for twenty minutes before Lucian declared that he didn’t want to pay to sit in silence, since they were doing that for free at home.

Therapy alone had been much better. Dr. Boniface listened to Natalie, let her talk, let her cry, and occasionally gave her homework assignments. And Natalie had excelled at the last one.

“Try dating again,” Dr. Boniface said. “An internet date, a coffee date, go dancing. Something. It doesn’t have to be a serious commitment, just go out and tell yourself that you are worthy of a good time.”

Natalie had had a very, very good time with Myron Bolitar over the weekend. The thought of him still got her thrumming. Unfortunately, no amount of thinking of Myron erased her irritation today. Dr. Boniface was on maternity leave and Natalie had been assigned a new therapist. She didn’t know a thing about Dr. Jude Oxley, and frankly, Natalie didn’t care to. She agreed to the switch because she knew how stressful new motherhood could be, but her jaw ached from all the teeth-grinding she’d done. She and Dr. Boniface had a rapport. Never mind they’d both been women. Natalie couldn’t imagine opening up to a man about having sex with a total stranger. It sounded like fodder for ill-advised patient-doctor relations. She played with her string of pearls as she sat in the waiting room and tried to design a plan of action.

She would spend today getting to know the new doctor and getting him up to speed on her case file. She was divorced and had been for just shy of a full year. She’d been separated for two years, with a trial separation the year previous. She had a twenty-four year old son whose poor choice in partner made Natalie want to tear her hair out. Her ex-husband had left her for a girl half their age, who he was now marrying and raising a family with; the man she’d cheated on Lucian with in the first place had reconciled with his wife. Everyone else’s lives were perfect little puzzles. Natalie was missing a few pieces from hers.

Dr. Boniface had told her once that her behavior could stem from unacknowledged grief over her miscarriages, a feeling of worthlessness because she hadn’t finished her degree, jealousy over Lucian’s success at picking his life back up, insecurities related to menopause, or any combination of those things or other issues. They were getting to the heart of why; now Natalie was back at square one. Her half-done puzzle had been torn apart.

Chances were, if she talked about Myron, Dr. Oxley would see it as a giant step back. He might have a totally different method of treatment than Dr. Boniface had. Natalie was not making progress, after all. She twined the string of pearls around her index finger. Did she rehash everything for him?

Eugh. I remember why I hated therapy the first time.

“Madame Blackwood?” the receptionist called out in heavily accented English. “The doctor will see you now.”

[Deleted]

Jude Oxley


The clock across the room ticked and tocked. It was a repeating rhythm that was echoing in his ears, and causing him to stare bullets at the object as if his eyes were going to make it move faster. Jude Oxley did not have control of time and because of that, time was his worst enemy. He felt the bead of sweat from his upper lip drip down into his mouth and he licked it slowly, furrowing his brow and lowering his head. Time was the only thing in his way of action. Jude thrived on action. He sat at his desk with his hands grasping at the arms of his chair until the skin on his hands turned into a frightening white, never taking his eyes off of that clock. Jude Oxley wished it would move faster. He often had dreams about time becoming a human being and imagined the sick and twisted things he would do to that human being for all the times Jude had to wait under it’s command, or plot out his day according to it. What made time so high and mighty?

That was the only reason why Jude Oxley was under any stress. Other than that, he was deathly calm.

Vulnerability and gullibility made for such easy targets. That was why Jude Oxley was not in the least bit apprehensive of how today’s appointment with the lovely Natalie Blackwood would play out. Vulnerability would come with the doctor-patient relationship. That is what his occupation was; to breakdown patients to their emotional worst and begin them anew by placing his own views, thoughts, opinions, and ways into their now vulnerable psyche. The control of just how much he could do with one’s intellect was a sensual feeling that made his toes curl in his business shoes, and his tongue to click against his front gritted teeth. Gullible was something that not only she was but they all were here at the clinic; every last one of them. They had no idea just what puppets they were to Jude, and how he was just pulling their strings without even the slightest strain of a muscle. There was no coincidence that Natalie Blackwood was Jude Oxley’s patient after her other therapist had to leave due to issues of her own. He had pulled one over on this institution and the people in it, slithering his way into the doctor chair that would be right in front of her. They handed him her file. They handed him her. They had no idea.

“Madame Blackwood?”

Jude’s sharp brown eyes flinched over to the door, his body remaining like a statue on his chair.

“The doctor will see you now.”

Jude Oxley shut his eyes and a low rumble vented from his throat. He tried everything in his power not to get stimulated by this moment, not to allow this moment to carry him away to a place of such bliss that his vision would not be straight. He bit the insides of cheeks, pressing harder and harder. His fingers dug into the wood of his chair, and he lolled his head backwards. Jude wanted to enjoy every moment that he created for himself and this was a moment to relish in.

Because when Natalie Blackwood entered that room, Jude Oxley was a step closer to Lucian Michaud. For him, that meant everything.

Hearing the taps of heels in fast approach, Jude Oxley shot up from his seat, straightening his suit tie. As he headed toward his office door, Jude managed to take a quick glimpse at the diplomas and certificates he received hanging up on his wall. It was humorous how much this world trusted him. Not wanting to waste another moment, Jude opened the door before the two could knock on it. Knocking aggravated him. The noise was a pounding on his temples.

“Ah, Madame Blackwood.”

Doctor Jude Oxley stood at his door, his eyes meeting the lovely blonde angel sent to him, and he smiled kindly. Natalie Blackwood was a beautiful woman. She was a woman that had been in contact with Lucian Michaud and that made her all the more alluring and precious to Jude like a glass object he would keep dear to his heart in his collection. Jude looked into her eyes but inwardly was seeing all that she was inside her file. Divorced, a mother, alone, and just so mouth wateringly full of issues he could not wait to pry out without even laying a finger on her. Jude Oxley would always be jealous of her though and her contact with Lucian Michaud. How close she had gotten to him, how much she had spoken to him in her lifetime or shared the same meals with. Jude would make sure she suffered for that. But not right now.

“Doctor Jude Oxley.” He said, holding out his hand to her, and once they shook- the physical contact making a part of his brain whirl, he stepped into his office with a hand gesturing for her to come in as well.

“I appreciate your willingness to try this out with me.” Jude told her smoothly, a tense part of his jaw releasing as the receptionist let them alone. “I understand how aggravating it can be to switch doctors like this.”

Jude Oxley closed the door.

Natalie Blackwood was his.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie wasn’t even sure what to talk to Dr. Oxley about. Her mind flooded with sounds and echoes when her name was called. Everything she could start talking about, every voice different and distinct. She heard Damien and Lucian and Beatrice and her father, but also Ashton and Myron. Their voices played in loops in her head like a broken record player as she tried to figure out what was important and what was just white noise.

“Mummy, can’t you try to be supportive? For once? Please?”

“I chose her because she’s the best woman I’ve ever known. I chose her because I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, except maybe Damien and Gregory.”

“You selfish, stupid slag. Did you really think Anthony would leave Joanna? Or that Lucian wouldn’t move on? I told you to pick between them ages ago…”

“I hope you feel better, Natalie. And I hope one day, you let someone love you as much as you need them to. Enjoy the party.”

“You’re secret’s safe with me, Natalie, but, out of curiosity, why? Why did you tell me that?”


“Everyone goes through their handful that just… sucks. But it all gets better. At least, that is what everyone says to make it feel better…”

What to start with? What to say?


“Ah, Madame Blackwood.” said a new voice. “Doctor Jude Oxley.”

That was real. That was now. Natalie had scarcely noticed her own, mechanical steps into Dr. Oxley’s office. She blinked and studied the man before her. Not particularly tall, Doctor Oxley was dressed sharply and had keen, dark eyes that surprised Natalie. Freud had been a keen, dark-eyed man. A perfunctory smile played on Natalie’s lips and she took his handshake.

“I appreciate your willingness to try this out with me,” said Dr. Oxley. He had a crisp voice, polished. Natalie knew the type. “I understand how aggravating it can be to switch doctors like this.”

“A small sacrifice for my sanity,” Natalie said light, joking a little and playing it off as if she wasn’t completely aggravated.

He was right, of course. Switching doctors frustrated her no small amount. Fortunately though, Oxley was British. Natalie felt more at ease hearing his words—however insincere they may have been—simply because he pronounced them with ease. No language barrier, even if they were at cross-purposes. Her, to seek aid; him, to earn a living. She wondered if it was a headache for him to go through her file, or just another paycheck. It wasn’t as though he’d taken pity on her in a café, as Dr. Boniface had.

They stepped inside the office and Natalie sat in the chair she assumed to be for patients. She crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap.

“Hopefully, you read my file so we can just… skip the prologue, so to speak?”

[Deleted]

Jude Oxley

The door shutting vibrated against Jude Oxley’s hands and his eyes shut too almost feeling as if he could feel them making his corneas vibrate. It felt good. When he opened his eyes, he spun around with a charming smirk, looking over at Natalie and heading toward the desk to collect the file that he was just plucking up for show- because he had memorized it front to backwards, and his notebook. Which, also wasn’t needed because everything Natalie Blackwood said Jude would not forget.

“A small sacrifice for my sanity.”

Jude analyzed that as Natalie attempting to make a light jest. For that, he let out a throaty chuckle and a smile. This is what he would play for her. Jude Oxley would exercise the action of laughter for her because he knew that it did happen to make people at ease. He understood the psychology of it, but would never understand laughter in that sense. Of course, what put him at said ‘ease’ put other people in misery. Now to make this laughter he was certain he would have to do again with her, he would have to think of something laughable to him in his mind so it did not sound phony. Jude Oxley, grabbing the files at his desk thought of the upcoming trauma he was about to inflict and how it would probably end up having her come back to therapy because of him.

It was like this cycle. Now that was funny.

“Hopefully, you read my file so we can just… skip the prologue, so to speak?”

Walking around his desk to take a seat in the leather chair across from where she was sitting, Jude sat down and nodded. “Absolutely.” He told her with a smirk, sliding out his spectacles from the inside of his suit jacket and putting them on. “Getting to where you are right now was my responsibility.” Jude assured her, crossing his legs. “You just keep moving forward.”

Starting backward would only be cringe worthy. Jude Oxley had done more than enough homework to know exactly where Natalie Blackwood was at in this point in time. There was no way Jude was going to allow an enigma under his radar when it came to Lucian Michaud and his connections.

With a friendly smile, he clasped his hands setting them on his lap. "Also, if you have any questions for me throughout today feel free." He offered of himself. "I understand it can be nerving to speak with a complete stranger."

Jude Oxley was not going to settle for 'complete stranger'.

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Natalie did not—did not—want to retell the sob story of her marriage and divorce. The dramatics of her affair with Anthony, the histrionics when she learned that Lucian was leaving her for Ashton, or the unease she felt around Toddy St James. All that was the past. She no longer spoke to Anthony. She tried not to care what Lucian and Ashton were doing. And, as everyone kept telling her, discriminating against Toddy because he was too poor and too uneducated for her baby boy was not kosher. She wanted to talk about how she felt empowered and attribute it to some mysterious force of karma instead of Myron Bolitar so Dr. Oxley didn’t think she was a loose woman.

If he hadn’t read her file, Natalie would leave. She wasn’t paying for a rerun therapy session.

Doctor Oxley sat in his desk and picked up what Natalie assumed was her file. At least she’d made him laugh a little. If she could play winsome and charming, maybe he wouldn’t want to make her dig up old skeletons.

“Absolutely,” he promised her. He pulled out some reading glasses from his suit jacket. “Getting to where you are right now was my responsibility. You just keep moving forward.”

Excellent. They were on the same wavelength. As long as Natalie was allowed to keep moving forward, she wouldn’t have to revisit everything.

Especially not Lucian and Ashton and Toddy.

She was so sick of them, really, cropping up in Damien’s speech. She’d gone for dinner with him the night after she’d met and made love to Myron. Damien said she looked nice, asked her how she was, and spent the night talking alternating between anecdotes about baby Gregory and asking what kind of baby he’d been and what kind of parents Natalie and Lucian had been or talking about Toddy this and Toddy that and Mummy-why-don’t-you-like-Toddy.

But the real kicker had been when he mentioned going tuxedo shopping with Lucian for the wedding.

It was happening, it was real, and it just had to crop up when Natalie was feeling good about herself. She may have been able to pick up an attractive man in a bar, but Lucian was marrying a twenty-four year old woman. Myron was a one-night stand. Ashton was giving Lucian every night for the rest of his life. He was always one-upping her. She didn’t want to talk about that.

She’d talk about how she’d gone to a bar with a new boyfriend (she was playing loose with the term because she refused to seem easy), that the boyfriend stayed the night, that he made her breakfast in the morning. That he made her feel validated again. Like she was worthy of love.

Even if Myron had, in actuality been a one night stand who merely made her remember that she was worthy of hot sex.

If you played with the details, it was all almost the same thing. She’d conveniently “break up” with the boyfriend by next session or next month. No one would be any the wiser. Especially not Doctor Oxley.

“Also,” said the doctor. “If you have any questions for me throughout today feel free. I understand it can be nerving to speak with a complete stranger."

He smiled at her. It was a nice smile. Natalie wondered how many clients he had. He probably had loads of clients. People who trusted him. Rich and bored fashion models who talked about their eating disorders and the pressures of fame, war veterans who talked about the horrors they’d seen in the Middle East, neurotic teenagers who were riddled with disorders they found on WebMD… Natalie supposed if those people could trust Jude Oxley, she could, too.

After all, Dr. Boniface would eventually return from maternity leave and life would go on as if nothing had changed.

“I appreciate your consideration.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Dr. Boniface and I left off two weeks ago. She told me that she thought I was ready to start dating again—casually, at least. She said it would be a good way to get past my divorce since, as of next week, it will have been finalized for exactly a year.”

[Deleted]

Jude Oxley

This was all such a picturesque cycle, wasn’t it? She comes in, searching her soul, her heart’s most deepest insecurities, pouring out about a man she once was promised to, and pouring it out to a man who had the intentions of using her as a pawn to this little game he would have with Lucian Michaud. Natalie was in therapy for him, and now she would have to return to a world of psychology because of therapy. Such a maleficent cycle, that Jude Oxley was to be certain he would have all the credit for.

“I appreciate your consideration.”

Jude nodded silently with a faint smile at her. She appreciated him too for his false consideration, and that made him exceptionally delighted. The more trust he could get from her, the more juices of information he could pump out of her to get what he needed, and once she was drained entirely- well, then, she was his, wasn’t she?

“Dr. Boniface and I left off two weeks ago. She told me that she thought I was ready to start dating again—casually, at least. She said it would be a good way to get past my divorce since, as of next week, it will have been finalized for exactly a year.”

Jude Oxley would claw at the ligaments of Doctor Boniface if he could. In most cases, he would. It would be an interesting occasion, but he would not waste his precious energy on that. Doctor Boniface was doing the correct thing for her, but that wasn’t correct for Jude. He wondered just how much healing they had endured together, and how hard Natalie was clinging to the remedies. Still, she was sitting in his chair and in his office. As far as Jude Oxley could see it, he was in control. He loved control.
Looking at his notepad, Jude dropped his pen on top it, being careful of what his body language was and what his face was reading. He steadily moved his features to twist into a bit of concern, but not to the point of exaggerated annoyance toward Doctor Boniface.

“I do not wish to interfere with the work you and Doctor Boniface have accomplished so far,” Jude Oxley explained calmly, looking over at her with a supportive glint in his eye. He imagined that the action of support was what she needed, so he would exercise that outwardly to her, because internally was not where she would find it. Jude would have to tip toe around the work they had done to fill in work of his own. It was like seizing Natalie’s brain and pricking and prying at the new found machinery someone had placed. Jude Oxley was quite the brain mechanic.

“But if I may offer some of my own input on the matter?”

He leaned to where his elbows hit against his thighs, looking at her calmly and with a refined, yet once again, supportive, stare. Jude Oxley could not have her bottle up and be gallivanting off with other men. He needed the pain fresh, the memories vivid, and as much vulnerability he could muster up inside of her. It was freshly finalized, meaning a lot of things were freshly stirring in her head.

“By diverting your attention into activities such as dating,” He explained casually, “it would be setting all of the past aside, shoving it inside a metaphoric closet where we all keep our darkest emotions, thoughts, and memories.” Jude said, rolling his fingers into a fist as to portray what she was pushing aside. Visuals would aid in this for her, and would make her feel like he wasn’t so much of a robot and remind him not to be. He also was putting forth a conscious effort to refer to 'all of us', so Natalie did not feel as if Jude were attacking her- though, she had no idea of the mental attacking he was inflicting. “Surely, you can find someone out there, there isn’t a doubt about that, and I am sure you will.”

Jude Oxley took a beat, really wanting this last bit to reside with her in her mind, in her thoughts, to go home with her and be the voice that makes her question her actions as she plucks up her purse to go out into the world to be happy with someone else. Something that she would awaken with in the morning, and cause herself to stand before her mirror for a moment too long. It would be a bold statement and assumption, but Natalie Blackwood was here because she was insecure, hurt, deprived of something that was offsetting. If Jude Oxley could poke at it, he was sure that he would have her where he needed her.

“How though, can you expect yourself to be happy with someone when you are not happy with yourself?”

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Now that Doctor Oxley was up to speed, they could proceed with the therapy session. Afterwards, Natalie would leave, take herself and a nice book to lunch and enjoy her own company for a while. She always used to think women sitting alone, pretending to read were rather sad, but now that she wasn’t chasing Damien all over God’s green Earth or minding Lucian’s finances, Natalie was actually somewhat glad for the alone time. She hadn’t read a book in ages; it sounded like as brilliant a plan as she could think of. Never mind she’d recently bought herself one of those newfangled E-Readers. She’d always meant to try to enjoy Tolstoy and now that she didn’t have to lug some thousand and a half pages around, maybe she would.

Besides, it had to be healthier than rehashing anything. Focus on the future, focus on herself, but Natalie refused to focus on the past any more.

“I do not wish to interfere with the work you and Doctor Boniface have accomplished so far,” said Oxley. Natalie smiled. Good. “But if I may offer some of my own input on the matter?”

She hated that word. “But”. Lucian used to always squeeze it in just when Natalie thought she’d won an argument. ‘Yes, we’ll invite your sisters, but don’t expect me to play nicely with Robert. You know who he voted for last term?’ ‘Of course Damien should apply to Oxford, but don’t you think it would be a good idea to suggest he read for the London Institute as well?’ She was not about to have a war of ‘but’s with her therapist. Natalie set her jaw and smiled as best as she could. Her eyes, however, dulled. She wasn’t listening to him. She had her own mind, thank you very much.


“By diverting your attention into activities such as dating, it would be setting all of the past aside, shoving it inside a metaphoric closet where we all keep our darkest emotions, thoughts, and memories. Surely, you can find someone out there, there isn’t a doubt about that, and I am sure you will.”

Natalie nodded warily. She didn’t like the closet metaphor. It made her think too much of things Damien said about ‘coming out of the closet’, as if someone was stifling the real him behind the Christmas decorations and old fur coats.


“How though, can you expect yourself to be happy with someone when you are not happy with yourself?”

“There are ninety-nine things I might be unhappy with, Doctor,” Natalie said evenly. “But I’m not one of them.”

[Deleted]

Jude Oxley

“There are ninety-nine things I might be unhappy with, Doctor, but I’m not one of them.”

Jude Oxley kept control, kept his features in tact and his heart beat at a steady pace. In his mind he had a vision of wringing her neck on top of the desk, hearing that tone just shrill out into screams upon helpless gurgles. Jude had gone about the wrong route, assuming that she were insecure of herself. He would feel a bit of a failure, but the thing of it was, she did not matter. Sure, a light relationship would help in his ventures, but what really mattered was Lucian Michaud. Jude Oxley would play to get the ending that he longed for with or without Natalie. To not try and attempt to use her as a pawn would be a missed chance.

With a warm smile, Jude returned to the cushion of his chair, and fixed the glasses on his nose. "Good then."

Jude Oxley blinked, "So, have you, perchance, started seeing other people?"

[The Exodus]

Natalie Blackwood

Doctor Oxley smiled warmly. Natalie’s shoulders loosened just a bit. She wasn’t that easily won over by a smile. If that was true, she was certain she and Lucian would never have ended. The man had a charming smile—even when forced—and it used to melt Natalie into a puddle. Smiles were tricky things, though. And so were politician ex-husbands.

Don’t think about Lucian, she reminded herself sternly. You are making progress.

Even still, if she had to list all ninety-nine things she was unhappy with Natalie would have to put Lucian somewhere near the top of that list. She was unhappy with him for thoroughly winning Damien over, for moving on, and for interrupting her thoughts when she was doing fine. He could marry whoever he wanted, have as many children as he liked, but that he was still somehow present in Natalie’s external and internal life was maddening. So instead of focusing on Lucian, she called to mind Myron standing in her kitchen, designing Mickey Mouse pancakes for her with sweat-drenched hair and a sleepy smile.

"Good then," Doctor Oxley said. "So, have you, perchance, started seeing other people?"

“Of course,” Natalie said. “Just the other morning, my boyfriend stayed the night and we made breakfast together.”

It was a stretch, but not nearly as bad as it could have been. A man had stayed the night and in the morning, they had made breakfast together. It was as true as Natalie could make it.